In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

5:30 p.m.

About an hour and a half before the official I MOVE recording, the TBC Ilsan broadcasting station grew hectic.

“OK, we’re beginning audience entry now!”

“Please line up over here!”

After ID checks, spectators took the guidebook handed to them and began filing in.

“Wow, so many people. Are all of these here just to watch today?”

A couple in line looked back behind them.

Not only did the line they’d just left stretch endlessly, but beyond the glass walls a sea of faces pressed together like a flock of birds.

The man said, “This is kind of embarrassing. Feels like everyone here is an idol fan.”

“Right....”

Indeed, most of the audience were idol fans. It was a show featuring popular idol members, and since it hadn’t yet aired, it was unfamiliar to general viewers.

“Shall we go in?”

The couple stepped into the public hall with wide eyes.

A vast stage. [N O V E L I G H T] Steel lighting trusses crisscrossed overhead. On the giant screen at the back, the I MOVE logo floated into view.

“It’s even bigger than I thought.”

“Seriously big....”

With seating for well over a thousand, they could only marvel. As soon as the house filled, the I MOVE logo on the LED screen shifted.

Shwoooosh—

Only the MOVE remained, and beneath it floated a dictionary-style definition:

MOVE

It seemed to signify that dancers move the body to move the audience’s emotions. The full I MOVE flowed again, and the I began to shift:

Between the V and the E—

[MOVIE]

“Now, before you unfolds a motion picture!”

Suddenly, the screen switched to black and white with crackling noise, and the rough font of ERATRIA appeared.

As the audience leaned in, a playful narration began:

“Here are a king and prime minister, grieving the loss of their beloved!”

“And here are two assassins plotting to kill that king!”

“Eratria—your introduction starts now!”

The voice, familiar from weekend movie programs, drew laughter from all corners of the hall. But the laughter didn’t last. Midway through the film-style preview, it abruptly cut off.

“Huh...?”

“What—did it end?”

In answer, the cheeky narration returned:

“For the rest, watch the competition!”

“Whaaat—?”

Amid cries of “No way!” the couple tapped their phones.

But they quickly hit a snag.

“It’s all in English....”

“My eyes are tearing up, seriously.”

No subtitles on YouTube, no blog reviews to be found. After scanning the English Wikipedia and giving up, just as they sighed—

“Waaaah!”

“Eeeeeek!”

The unexpected shrieks startled them. On the screen, contestants were performing their signature choreographies.

Under each clip, names and groups appeared in sleek English lettering.

“Wow....”

The scream had come for LB of Street Boys. Against “Stronger,” LB, in heavy smoky eye makeup, twisted wildly, each movement leaving a CGI afterimage of light.

The man whispered, “Guess they’re popular.”

“Seems so.”

They’d never heard of Street Boys but recognized the name—definitely a top idol group. As one teaser after another drew cheers—

“Woooaaaaah!”

This cheer was so loud it felt like the studio roof might lift off.

“Oh...!”

“It’s Biju! Biju!”

The couple grinned warmly. Among the unfamiliar faces, seeing Biju felt like seeing an old friend—yet that delight quickly gave way to awe.

“Wow....”

Droplets of sweat ran down his hair as the camera panned his boyish features. In a hooded black jumper, Biju danced Nine’s signature move in a neon-lit back alley. The intense choreography ended with his hands crossing behind his head in an X, and the camera zoomed tight on his eyes.

“Incredible....”

“He’s got presence.”

Even among fleeting dance moves, Biju’s final gaze stuck in their minds. After each contestant’s teaser—

“Hello!”

A man with a mic strode onstage.

“I’m Kim Cheol, your pre-show MC! Nice to meet you all!”

Dubbed the NewBlack of pre-show emcees, the comedian ran the show smoothly—quizzing the audience on Eratria trivia for prizes, running through show rules. As the pre-show wrapped up, a panel entrance opened near the stage and elicited shrieks.

Ordinary audience members sat up in surprise.

“Huh...!?”

Through that entrance came 4Black—NewBlack minus Biju—waving cheerfully at the crowd.

“Unbelievable...!”

“Jackpot! NewBlack!”

The handsome men’s smiles and waves on the panel had the audience swooning. Yet they themselves were stunned.

“Panel is NewBlack?!”

They’d expected guest celebrities, not the contestants’ own teammates. Behind them, guest dancers—like Han A-yun—and other colleagues took seats. As more filled in, the audience craned to spot familiar faces.

“Wow.”

It felt like a music awards lineup—faces they knew even if they didn’t know the names. And there, front and center in jeans, long legs stretched out, was the impeccably dressed NewBlack leader, Uju. No matter where one looked, their gaze settled on his face—so handsome one could forgive spilling spicy stir-fry on a new outfit.

“Huh....”

“Woah....”

The couple’s eyes glazed over.

“Why did I ever think he was funny on TV?”

“Right...”

He looked like the kind of face that drinks black coffee while reading the morning CNN—calm, flawlessly handsome, and now smiling softly at someone offscreen. Beside him sat a equally handsome young man, whispering behind a hand. It felt like watching a fantasy world come to life.

“Earthenware pot stand.”

“University.”

“Teacher.”

“Con artist.”

“...!”

With that killer clue, Han Jo’s eyes shook. My brothers went “Oooh!” and the other side groaned.

“...Con artist...”

“I lost. You win, Hyun Jo.”

“No way—it’s actually a word my grandmother uses.”

“Really?”

I shot a glance at Ri Hyuk; he confirmed it with his eyes.

“It’s real.”

I laughed. “Still—you ran out of time, so you lose.”

“....”

“Now, my Mincyodan family—after today’s performance, Mr Lee Hyun Jo is treating us to dinner.”

“Waaaaah!”

We all giggled. Having reunited since meeting in France, there was a warm, friendly vibe. I thought we’d be bored on the panel but, thankfully, Street Boys sat next to us.

At that moment, a junior from behind leaned in.

“Can I join in?”

“Eun Seong.”

“Yes~?”

Her attempts at a cute expression nearly made me clench my fist. I covered my mouth to hide a smile.

“We don’t take guests in Mincyodan.”

“Why so strict? You don’t like me?”

“Huh... wow, Eun Seong.”

“How’d you know my name?”

“....”

She puckered her lips as our group chuckled. Then she turned her target to Street Boys.

“Hello, seniors~”

They all smiled back brightly.

“Eun Seong, no use. Mincyodan is a dictatorship.”

“The leader does as he pleases. We pay dues.”

Though none of us ever paid dues—we just laughed whenever the leader treated us to meat.

While we caught up, more guests arrived.

“Hello, senpai!”

“Hi~”

We exchanged belly-button bows with Twinkle’s members, then greeted Daisy with a gracious nod and smile.

“But....”

I whispered to our group. “Did we invite too many?”

“Hmm....”

When everyone else had brought one or two friends, we had four—was that OK? We smiled awkwardly at each other just as—

Whoosh—

“Hello, everyone!”

The rookie boy group from TJ Entertainment burst in. We breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Safe.’

‘Thanks, TJ.’

Then—

“We’re beginning recording!”

At those words, we flipped on our broadcast-mode energy. The MC strode onstage with booming voice:

“Welcome to I MOVE!”

And with that, the first competition recording officially began. Since the show hadn’t aired, they spent extra time introducing the format—team assignments, intro videos for each team—likely the same sequence for the broadcast.

“Waaaaah!”

Like a tiny awards show, cheers rose and fell with each artist’s video—so many that the crowd eventually grew hoarse with laughter. Then:

“Now, for the moment you’ve been waiting for: the first I MOVE performance! All contestants onstage for the opening number—please welcome them with a big round of applause!”

“Waaaaah!”

As the panel cheered “Wooaaah,” the stage dimmed. On the screen above, stained-glass–style CG appeared with subtitles:

[Once upon a time...]

A narration began as the story unfolded. Our hearts pounded with anticipation—was this how Mrs Kim Deok Soon felt at the school play, searching for her child onstage, hoping they’d wear the prettiest costume?

“Where are you, hyung?!”

“Biju ya. Where are you?”

“Biju yaaaaa!”

Silently cheering, we scanned the dark stage. Fifteen silhouettes appeared, lit by rolling waves of light.

“Oooh...!”

Amid the swirl of colored spotlights, third from the right we spotted Biju. His head bowed, blue light rippling over his hair as he moved.

‘They’ve adapted it in a Korean style.’

‘Indeed!’

The film had felt medieval Europe–like, but the stage set leaned toward Korean aesthetics—Biju’s idea. A vaguely Three Kingdoms–era look, tight garments wrapped in flowing cloth to accentuate every movement.

Then, urgent BGM struck, and the performance began.

The center of the opening was two dancers: Scarlet’s Rina in a crimson shawl with red makeup at her eyes, embodying the dragon; and Twinkle’s Ran in blue on the opposite side, confronting her.

But our eyes followed Biju.

‘Wow....’

As the dragon and king’s forces clashed, Biju leapt and spun, cloth sleeves fluttering like wings. His lean, powerful body moved with such fluid grace it felt as if he were flying.

“Wow....”

Next came the prime minister’s fall from grace—Biju’s character stumbled, gaze unfocused, then spun sharply. The tragedy of a man losing his wife, wandering snowy fields in grief, shone in his dance. We wanted to shout, “He’s our main dancer!” but held back.

“Yaaaah!”

The Souffle fans cheered for us. Biju discarded the blue cloth, emerging in white, eyes brimming with sorrow. He gave the fallen minister depth and believability.

When the stage split into three sections, on the far right Biju turned, back still expressing heartbreak. We remained transfixed.

“Waaaaaah!”

As the opening ended, applause thundered. Lights went down and the dancers exited. My brothers and I, faces flushed with excitement, turned to Sbo beside us—also glowing.

“Did you see that dance?”

“Did you see Biju?”

We laughed in unison—each had been staring only at our own member. The stage brightened again and MC Baek Sang Jung stepped up.

“How was that? Did you enjoy the first performance?”

“Yes!”

“Amazing, right? I couldn’t stop gaping even during rehearsal.”

After rallying the audience, he looked to the panel.

“How about you, choreographer Han A-yun?”

“It was brilliantly structured,” she said, holding a mic. “I thought fifteen dancers might be too many and the stage could feel crowded, but I was wrong. The composition was excellent. The idea of using cloth instead of weapons, invading each other’s space—that was brilliant.”

She gave a thumbs-up, clearly impressed. Other famed choreographers and dancers shared their praise. Then—

“Next, let’s hear from the contestants’ colleagues. Daisy, what did you think?”

Scarlet’s youngest, Daisy, teared up as she exclaimed, “My sister was incredible...!” Laughter rippled through audience and panel.

“Truly a passionate reaction,” the MC noted.

“Rina’s dance felt like a dragon bursting forth! I even thought I saw wings behind her!”

Daisy’s excitement nearly turned into alien tongue, and everyone laughed. With the audience in stitches, Sang Jung turned to Twinkle.

“You were also key performers. Ran, how did you find it?”

“I was thrilled. And honestly relieved Ran isn’t dead yet—he can still eat.”

The banter from second-generation idols in their thirties had everyone in stitches. As the conversation continued, the mic came to us.

“Biju was also one of the leads. How did NewBlack feel about it?” 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

“We all agree—Biju was the best.”

We each declared our member the best, drawing laughter. We commented on the rehearsal intensity and lighting—you know, the kinds of sound-bites the editors love. We saw the writers note down our expressions.

Meanwhile, in the panel we were grinning ear to ear.

“And Biju’s portrayal of the prime minister was so striking. Even though he only stood center a few times, he really drew the eye.”

“Biju’s expressions stay in my memory. And how flexible his body is....”

Somewhat expected broadcast praise, but hearing unanimous acclaim for his dance confirmed how well he’d done.

‘Biju, are you listening?’

‘Hyung ya! They’re praising you!’

All of this would air anyway, but I wished we had the uncut footage to show him. If he were watching the monitor in the waiting room, he might miss it while finishing final practice.

He’s always like that.

So we decided to celebrate for him.

“Ahem...”

“Heh heh...”

We pretended to brush off the praise as if it were our own. In truth, his victory was our victory.

With the opening done, the real team performances began: each team’s interview and practice footage, introduction to their scene, the stage performance, then commentary before exiting. As the MC boldly promised, “We’ve gathered the world’s best dancers,” each performance drew roars and screams.

As curiosity about the next acts and the audience’s excitement mounted:

“Now for the fourth performance: the Apple team!”

Amid cheers, the Apple team’s VCR rolled.

At last, it was time for Biju’s team to take the stage.