In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

At the same time.

The production team watching from the next room was in a panic.

“Uh—uh—uh—uh!”

“You’re not supposed to go in there... I mean... that—”

“No, over there....”

In the room {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} set up for the hidden-camera prank, a cozy snack party had broken out.

The dancers were munching on sandwiches and chatting.

And beneath the table...

‘...!’

On the hidden camera’s monitor, NewBlack was tangled together like one big heap.

Whip!

One of the dancers stretched a leg out, and Junhyun bent his body backward to dodge it.

“Ow!”

“He actually dodged that.”

The NewBlack members twisted into bizarre angles to avoid the kicking legs, huddled tight, then lifted their phones toward the camera:

[Help us ㅠㅠㅠㅠ]

Faced with the SOS, the crew exchanged glances.

“What do we do?”

“How about sending someone in to ask them to come out? Tell Biju we need to speak with him for a moment.”

“Wouldn’t that give it away?”

One writer suggested.

“What if we summon each team by text? We tell them what’s happening.”

“That might work, but all groups planned the same prank. If only NewBlack does it, they’ll notice.”

“That’s true....”

They had intended to film each team’s surprise reaction when their friends came to cheer them on. Now they couldn’t admit to the performers that NewBlack was hiding under that table.

“Honestly,” someone said, “they’re going to get found out anyway. The prank’s ruined.”

“Right... it’s already blown.”

The moment NewBlack emerged, the content they’d planned was effectively dead.

The assistant PD asked, “So should we just ask them to stay hidden a little longer? Permanently?”

“That’s not—”

Before the crew member could finish, they all imagined the viewers’ comments flooding in:

A wave of “Souffle” fans descended like an army.

One writer sighed, “I want to live to a ripe old age.”

“Me too....”

“Forcing them to stay under there for our content was always too much.”

NewBlack were VIP guests. Just their appearance would generate hundreds of news articles. They couldn’t leave them trapped.

‘What do we do...?’

As they fretted, the senior writer furrowed his brow.

“We should’ve blocked the door. How could we let anyone walk in?”

“Sorry—we didn’t expect someone to come in so soon....”

No one argued; it was fair. Who’d have thought a tea party would erupt in less than five minutes?

One staff member observed, “Biju’s super popular. Every meal or break, people swarm him.”

At first they assumed everyone stuck with him because of his idol status. But it was his warm nature—kind and attentive—that drew people in.

“But that’s not the point. How do we fix this?”

They pointed at the screen. Beneath the table, in the dark, NewBlack shook their phones at the camera with devilish grins:

[Help us!!!!]

They bit their lips—this was too hilarious.

‘Are the gods of variety shows blessing us?’

NewBlack had unwittingly created comedy gold. Though the prank failed, the broadcast would be a smash.

So they decided to roll with it.

A text arrived from the crew.

“What’s this?”

I showed it to them.

“It says we can just come out now.”

‘....’

It was a simple fix: lift the tablecloth, say “Hello—4Black!” and burst out laughing.

But...

‘How could we crawl out without dying of embarrassment?’

Ri Hyuk’s face was already burning red in sympathy.

‘Is there another way? For us?’

“Hyung.”

Junhyun spoke up. “Should we lift the table?”

“Lift the... table?”

We imagined Junhyun hoisting it like Poseidon and us springing out with a triumphant “ha!”

“Junhyun.”

“Yes, hyung?”

“Stay still.”

“Okay.”

Watching Junhyun deflate like a bear who’d lost his honey jar, we exchanged glances.

“We have to just go.”

“Opposed to waiting?”

‘Our backs or our dignity—choose your poison.’

But when Ri Hyuk gagged at the dancers’ foot odor, we gave up on patience.

‘Foot! Dodge!’

We twisted and turned as shoes shuffled above us. Each dodge drew admiration from my brothers.

“Don’t clap!”

“Oh”—they caught themselves mid-applause.

“Did you hear a knock?”

“Someone at the door?”

They opened it—nobody was there—and resumed their chat.

After deep debate, we resolved to go.

‘Let’s go. Anyone who objects is outvoted.’

At 3-to-1, the motion passed.

Just then, a hushed conversation from above pulled at our ears.

“But Biju...”

“Yes?”

“Why have you been glued to your phone? Getting messages?”

“Oh, that.”

Biju’s soft voice floated down.

“My members planned to come watch today. But they all said they couldn’t....”

“Is that why?”

“Yes.”

They’d arranged it a month ago, then the shoot was scheduled...

“Well, NewBlack’s always busy.”

“Right. But in case things change, I’m waiting for their texts.”

A dancer teased, “They all hated you.”

“No, they’re just busy.”

Even in disappointment, Biju refused to speak ill of us. If it had been Junhyun, he’d have sworn up a storm.

A dancer said, “Pity. I wanted to meet NewBlack too.”

“You’ve never seen them?”

“Never. You’d think we’d run into them at the studio, but no—it’s like they’re ghosts.”

We nodded in agreement.

‘Good idea!’

We hatched a plan for a natural exit.

Biju put down his phone.

‘They really can’t come.’

He accepted it, though his heart felt heavy. He peered hopefully at his messenger—no new texts.

‘None of them can make it...’

He knew their schedules were tight, but it still stung.

‘Not even one...’

He switched on the messenger again—no messages.

“....”

The dancers watched, wanting to capture his expression—like a disappointed rabbit peeking up from a forced smile.

Ran asked with concern, “No new ones?”

“No....”

Then—

[Bell sound!] A sudden notification startled everyone.

Biju’s face lit up.

‘It’s Uju hyung!’

His special ringtone played as he opened the message:

Uju hyung [Biju]

Uju hyung [Actually, we don’t have any schedules today lol]

Uju hyung [Gotcha!]

Flowers bloomed on Biju’s face.

“They’re coming!”

Everyone laughed at his rapid expression change—until Usan from Wild stopped him.

“You need to pout angrily when someone pranks you.”

“That’s right—do it.”

“I really hate jokes like this—say that.”

Biju erased his half-written reply and typed anew:

[I really hate pranks like this!!]

“How’s that?”

“Uh... hm....”

It wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t sound angry. The dancers tried multiple versions—nothing came out harsh enough—so they offered to help.

They sent: [I don’t like jokes like this ㅡㅡ^] and laughed.

They waited, expecting Uju hyung to scramble for a reply—but instead:

Uju hyung [Hello, Senior Usan]

“Ahhh!”

Usan shrieked and dropped his phone onto the table. Everyone stared.

“Whoa, creepy....”

“How did he know? Is he watching us?”

“Open the door. Just open it.”

They did—empty hallway. Biju picked up his phone; the dancers urged him to ask where Uju hyung was.

[Hyung! Where are you? ^^]

Instant reply:

Uju hyung [We’re right here with you]

Uju hyung [Since earlier...]

Chills ran down our spines. It sounded like ghostly teasing.

“Here? With us?”

“Is he watching via camera?”

“But no one else is in this room.”

They glanced for hiding spots—partitions, corners—but sensed nothing.

They all fell silent, staring at the tablecloth.

“Did anyone else feel that? Why would a broadcast meeting room have this kind of tablecloth?”

“Right?”

They swallowed hard, as if expecting a ghost beneath.

“Um....”

One took a breath and knocked on the table:

Knock-knock.

After three seconds:

Knock-knock answered back.

“Aaaah!”

“I hate this.”

They knew Uju hyung was in there—but unseen, it was terrifying. No one wanted to lift the cloth.

Meanwhile, Biju called softly:

“Uju hyung? Is that you?”

—“Yes....”

His sheepish voice made the dancers relax and laugh.

“Uju, have you been there all along?”

—“Yes....”

“Why there?”

—“I wanted to surprise Biju, but you came in....”

They understood: Uju hyung didn’t want Biju to get hurt by a sudden scare.

“Okay now—come out.”

—“Okay, just a moment.”

—“May I move the table? It’s cramped.”

“Go ahead.”

—“Don’t be startled~”

They all waited for Uju hyung’s dramatic reveal—but instead the tablecloth bubbled and writhed, like a restless spirit.

‘What is that?’

The table lifted about a foot off the ground:

“...!”

Beneath, eight insect-like legs emerged.

“Hello!”

With a merry giggle:

Scritch-scratch-scratch-scratch!

The table skittered like a giant roach.

“Mommyyyyy!”

“Aaaah!”

“What the hell is this?!”

Terrified, the dancers flung sandwiches and fled.

Three minutes later.

Cameramen had entered the room.

“....”

“....”

They sat across from each other in a standoff—like meeting families.

Awkward glances, avoiding eye contact, staring at the calendar and flower painting on the wall until we nodded:

“Hello. We’re 4Black without Biju.”

“Uh....”

The dancers, their voices husky from screaming, replied and bowed slightly.

“We’re friends of Biju.”

“Oh, yes... we’ve heard a lot about you, seniors.”

“Yes, likewise....”

“Haha....”

“Ha....”

An awkward silence descended—everyone had just been through something absurd.

Twinkle’s Ran turned to the crew:

“If you’re doing this, shouldn’t you give us a heads-up?”

“Right!”

“We were so scared!”

The performers surrounded the embarrassed crew, chiding them as they broke the ice and exchanged pleasantries.

With the strange introductions over, only Biju and us remained in the room.

“Goodbye! We’ll come to watch the recording later!”

“Nice meeting you!”

They left with warm smiles. As soon as the door clicked shut, we pounced on Biju.

“Bijuyaaaaaa!”

“Uju hyuuuuuung!”

We all hugged and did a little victory dance.

Biju laughed, “I really thought no one would come.”

“Yeah, we heard everything.”

“Oh... so you heard it all.”

He paused, recalling his interview words.

“Ahhh... you heard that too?”

“We heard everything, hyung: ‘I’ll become a dancer my members can be proud of!’ haha.”

“Embarrassing.”

“They’re all so talented~~”

“I’m not giving Jiho snacks.”

“Sorry, hyung. I won’t do it again.”

We laughed as the youngest snapped to attention.

Biju checked his watch. “I probably won’t see the rest of rehearsal. You’re coming later, right?”

“Yes. We’re here to cheer before the show.”

Since rehearsal gets hectic by afternoon, they’d chosen the quiet morning.

Ri Hyuk cleared his throat: “You said you wanted to support us, but you already help more than anyone. Sometimes we rely on you more than you rely on us....”

We nodded in agreement.

“Right. Who else would make us meals without Biju?”

“And clean the fridge.”

“Exactly. A house fairy keeps everything running~”

Biju gave us a sideways glare, and we all laughed, then hugged him one by one.

“You’ll do great, hyung.”

“You’ll crush it—or bomb spectacularly.”

No more needed; we all understood how much this contest meant to him.

He studied the stage map until his notebook filled, danced in the living room during breaks, and even at night he’d been dragged into the bathroom for feedback.

“Win first place, Biju.”

“Yeah—first place!”

“Bring home the trophy today.”

Tears glistened in Biju’s eyes, and we shared a warm smile.

He had to win—anything less, and...

‘Can’t sleep—why couldn’t I win? I’ve thought about it but can’t accept it.’

‘Is it my skill? I need more practice.’

‘We must all practice together.’

I can already picture him muttering till 4 a.m. His insane work ethic meant he had the strongest grit of all. To avoid heading back into the tumble-dry of hardship, he must place first.

As we cheered with gummy-bear grins, Biju looked at his phone again.

“Oh—gotta go. Practice.”

“See you later!”

“See you later~!”

He dashed down the hallway. We smiled at his retreating figure.

“He’ll do fine, right?”

“Of course.”

Our gentle youngest was the most determined. We believed in him.

As we headed to the parking lot for our own schedules, Biju called.

“Hyung......”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“I... I don’t know where I am....”

“....”

Are we really okay leaving him alone?