In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

Backstage.

A favorable mood spread over the crown idea.

As the staff murmured that it sounded good, Seok-hwan hyung chuckled.

“They said Biju wore a crown in the competition. You were really jealous, weren’t you?”

“What are you talking about, team lead?”

We denied it.

“I just saw Biju wearing a crown and thought, hey, that’d look great in our album art—and got the idea.”

“We’re not the type to get jealous like that.”

“We’re not grade-schoolers who just copy whatever someone does. We don’t need crowns.”

At our protestations, the staff narrowed their eyes.

Manager Hong Seo-young asked, “Really? You don’t need them?”

“...”

“If it’s not something you really want, then—”

We hurriedly changed our tune.

“We want them.”

“I want to wear a crown too...! I even played the princess in kindergarten, not the king!”

“Sometimes you just want to try it, right?”

Our answers made everyone laugh.

Meanwhile, in the corner of the meeting room, Director Jo Gyu-hwan stroked his chin.

“A crown....”

After a moment’s thought, he looked at us.

“You’re not just envious. Do you have a special story or concept in mind?”

“Yes.”

We nodded with smiles.

“You said you wanted to tackle the strongest form of conflict—power struggles. I’d like the story to focus on succession conflicts. Like heirs to an empire vying for the throne.”

The idea of five successors entangled in a fight for power piqued everyone’s interest.

“How does that sound?”

“Sounds great.”

The A&R lead expressed approval. “I like it. How about the rest of you?”

“I’m in favor too.”

Most staff agreed. With Director Jo’s endorsement, we concluded to move forward positively.

What remained was the detailed practical planning.

“Our comeback date for the full album is set around October 17. You don’t even need to check the calendar—it’s a Monday.”

When our TF team lead said that, Ji-ho commented, “That’s almost exactly two months away.”

“But once preparations start, it’ll be tight. We need to secure choreographers and prep, shoot the MV at the end of September.”

“Sounds busy.”

Though two months felt long, considering recording and rehearsals, the schedule was cramped—plus everyone’s individual engagements.

While we considered available practice times, TF laid out non-album schedules.

“And we’ve finalized the agreement with TBC.”

“Really?”

“You’re off this time—no Idol Olympics.”

“Waaaah!”

We high-fived the sidekicks in celebration.

“Exempted!”

“Olympics exemption!”

We were free from the idol sports event TBC holds every holiday—a huge relief.

Manager Hong laughed. “Honestly, if we say we don’t want to go, what can they do?”

“You really just told them you won’t participate?”

“I hedged a bit, but they got the message. Felt pretty satisfying.”

Fans and idols alike struggle, and injuries happen every year—but the network insists to avoid penalties for music or variety show appearances.

For us, either way was fine.

“That’s a given,” one TF staffer said. “Wooju, your alien-family ratings are sky-high. If I were on the other side, I’d call to make sure you stay healthy.”

Everyone laughed at the joke, but it hit the mark. We had multiple TBC projects.

Our weekend sitcom Our Family Is Alien hit 16% viewership after two episodes—a 3% increase—and the network was already hyping a season two.

“And we’ve also finalized with Joo Se-han.”

“Yes.”

We’d be returning to the popular #1 variety show Joo Se-han, nearly two years since our last appearance. We didn’t know what we’d be doing, but it wouldn’t be too demanding—and if it was, we’d handle it.

“Failure is our future problem.”

“True.”

We shared proud smiles.

With the meeting over, the TF team lead called, “Ji-ho, come see me for a moment.”

The maknae was whisked away to discuss a web drama—one our newly acquired production company was making—so Director Jo was very invested.

The company buzzed with energy from recent expansions.

“When album prep starts, things will pick up speed,” Ri-hyuk said. We looked off into the distance as I replied, “Right. Two months until comeback....”

“Comeback, huh....”

As I imagined performing Empire on music shows and meeting Soufflés cheering, Jun-hyeon sighed, “It means diet season.”

“Sigh....”

“Should we change our diet plan? Since the song is called Empire, we could do an Emperor Diet.”

“That’d shorten our lifespans.”

At the thought of no more meat once album prep began, my chest ached.

“Ughhhh....”

“Nyeaahhh....”

We slumped in our chairs like paper dolls, moaning.

Autumn approached—the season of high skies and fattened horses—but before us lay only chicken breasts and salad.

From that day, serious dieting began.

“Sidekicks.”

“Yes!”

“As always, we’ll find a way. What if we drizzled sweet peanut dressing on this tofu...?”

“It’s 138 calories. Higher than tofu.”

Peanut dressing: fail.

“This is not chicken breast. It’s meat. Not chicken breast but meat....”

“Delicious meat....”

Hypnosis: fail.

“Should we try one slice of that Hanwoo set Biju brought?”

“Yeah. Beef has the same protein as chicken breast. A little sirloin should be fine.”

“Right, right.”

“I read online that eating it with veggies prevents weight gain!”

“Fine pseudoscience.”

Portion control: fail.

We polished off the entire Hanwoo set and gained weight.

“How about fruit?”

“Fruit is the answer!”

Nope—it proved that overeating fruit also causes weight gain.

We tried everything, but only the royal road worked: chicken breast and salad.

“Ha ha ha....”

“Ha ha....”

“Ha....”

We laughed over meals, tears welling.

After feasting for three months post-album, sudden starvation made our stomachs cry for mercy.

On the drama set, stomach growls caused retakes.

“Joosun-i, the sound is great! Ha ha!”

Director Song Hoon gave a thumbs-up as everyone laughed.

Seeing my withered complexion, Ara offered me half a Vienna sausage from her lunchbox.

That made my heart pound before each shoot—but it didn’t last long.

“Sorry, the director knows what’s happening.”

“Is it over now....”

Even beloved Vienna sausages left me.

True to resolve, after three days my body adapted to the diet.

Meanwhile, August’s last week flew by.

Biju was busy using new LB as sparring partners on I MOVE, siblings tackled their schedules, and on dorm days we worked on the title track.

Then came a rare day off, Sunday.

“When does It start again?”

“Probably evening variety.”

We turned on HBS to watch NewBlack’s competition episode on On the Stage, where we’d appeared as mentors.

“Who do you think won?”

They must have held it shortly after we left; I was curious how it aired.

A match for the eldest brother title. The maknae, lounging on the sofa, said seriously, “I won’t claim eldest brother. I’ll be second brother—between Wooju and Biju.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know about others, but when hyung calls me hyung, I feel... ugh. Weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“Anyway, it’s a thing.”

When we looked at each other, all siblings nodded in agreement.

Biju peeled an apple and said, “When hyung calls me hyung, it feels like... that. Like when a stranger at a relative’s house calls you uncle.”

“Thanks, Biju. You’ve wounded my heart.”

“Oops....”

“But I look young, right? Even if I call myself hyung....”

“Gyaaaah!”

The sidekicks flailed in refusal as I snorted.

They really hated it.

“Do you mean how it feels when the CEO calls me hyung?”

“No, right?”

“Right?”

“Nah. It’s twice as weird.”

We dropped the subject, all of us awkwardly laughing at our second-brother ambitions.

Then—

“Oh...! Oh...!”

Surprised, Biju put down his peeling knife and pointed at the TV.

I tilted my head. “Why, what... oh! Oh!”

A K-drama star, Kwak Si-hyun, appeared in an HBS ad—the Hanwoo Association commercial.

Marbled sirloins and sizzling steaks passed before our eyes, and we all swallowed hard.

“Waaaah....”

After thirty sweet seconds, we stared sadly at the huge salad mound prepared for dinner.

“Phew....”

Jun-hyeon, lying dazed on the carpet, murmured, “Meat... I want meat....”

At the low rumble of his voice, we all sighed in sympathy.

Perhaps hearing our longing, a phone notification popped up: a NewSpirit group chat.

Hwi-yeon: [Hyung-nims~~~]

Hwi-yeon: [Want to come eat meat?]

Hwi-yeon: [(`•ω•´)/*҉]

“...!”

A rope of invitation was being lowered from the downstairs apartment.

It took only ten minutes to prepare.

We changed into good tracksuits, grabbed a small gift, and headed down.

Destination: the sixth floor.

With pounding hearts, we rang the bell, and Yeon-hu opened the door as if waiting.

“Hellooo!”

Yeon-hu greeted our boisterous laughter with an “Oh!”

“You’re here, hyung-nims?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that plant pot in your hand?”

“Just a small gift—I brought green onions that Jun-hyeon grew. Want to smell them?”

“Sure, whatever.”

Yeon-hu sniffed, burst into tears, and ran to the bathroom.

We followed behind, entering TeensSpirit’s lair.

“Wow....”

It was our first time in another group’s dorm. The layout matched ours upstairs, but the vibe was completely different—like a case study of teens living independently for the first time.

“You’re here, hyung-nims?”

“Wow, but this place....”

“There are paths everywhere.”

Amid scattered clothes and snack bags, clear walkways wound through. Even Biju and Ri-hyuk, household experts, were shocked.

Ji-ho whispered to Ri-hyuk, “How do you like it, hyung? Do I look like a fairy?”

“Huh? Uh....”

“Treat me well from now on.”

Ri-hyuk, who would have teased normally, only nodded awkwardly.

Following the path into the living room, six cheerful faces welcomed us.

They waved from the sofa where they’d been gaming, and Hwi-yeon called from the kitchen.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, green onions as a gift.”

Yeon-hu sniffed them again, wiping tears.

Clearly, they were potent—because Jun-hyeon grew them.

Teary-eyed Yeon-hu and the rest of the pretty boys greeted us warmly.

“Long time no see, hyung-nims.”

“Back from your overseas tour?”

“Yes, around mid-tour. It runs until March next year anyway.”

They’d finished summer shows and returned. We hadn’t seen them much during the tour; hearing their hellos was comforting.

I asked with a smile, “What made you think of us?”

“It’s funny—we were wondering what to eat for dinner when we heard Jun-hyeon hyung’s voice somewhere...”

“Really...?”

“Meat... meat... that sad bell—what was it? That really sad bell.”

“The Emile Bell?”

“Yes! And his voice kept echoing in my head.”

At that, TeensSpirit members exclaimed, “Me too!” and we laughed in silence.

It mustn’t have been hallucinations...

“Anyway, we thought we should repay you for that meat last time, so we invited you.”

“Thanks. Good timing—we’re dieting....”

“Is your comeback coming up?”

TeensSpirit members calcuated dates and grinned.

“Phew. No conflict.”

“We have a repackaged album in December.”

They were top idols like us—it pleased them that schedules didn’t clash.

“Anyway, we’ll grill /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ the meat for you!”

“But we’re terrible at grilling!”

Heeding their warning, we sat at the table, TV still on HBS.

“Hey! Is this green onion salad right? We followed the NewBlack TV recipe.”

“The onions are weird.”

“Is this even a salad? Looks insane.”

As TeensSpirit dumped chili powder, Biju rose quietly and approached the sink.

“When it comes to meat, leave it to Yeon-hu. Kyah~”

Yeon-hu, tongs in hand, drenched the griddle in oil to grill sirloin, and Jun-hyeon sprang up in alarm.

Ri-hyuk recoiled at the entangled power strips. Soon, the living room scene mirrored ours upstairs.

Six pretty boys sat around the table while we bustled about.

“You guys really can’t grill meat.”

“Well, you’d get better if you tried. Our manager says practice makes perfect.”

Though true, we decided to do it ourselves.

Watching TeensSpirit sigh over the oil, the maknae, who snapped chopsticks like cafeteria kids, asked, “How was the overseas tour?”

“We tore it up.”

TeensSpirit bragged about the massive tour—they’d mobilized around 500,000 people from the start of the year, four times our 130,000.

“Hoo....”

“Hyung-nims, we may not grill meat well, but we’re popular.”

“No kidding.”

“But half were in Japan—Osaka and Tokyo Dome, about 200,000 total.”

“Tokyo Dome? You performed there?”

We asked about their dream venue, and they asked about our domestic events.

“Do you know Hayley Blue?”

“Oh, the scary-looking one?”

TeensSpirit members trembled, saying she beat people up. Maknae Woo-bin asked, “Isn’t that the one who was on TV when we went to Japan?”

“Oh, right.”

“I saw her on hotel TV. She came in hanbok at Narita, causing a stir.”

“Pffft—!”

We choked on water laughing. We never thought she’d wear hanbok in Japan.

Looking up online, we found Hayley Blue’s interview with a Japanese reporter.

Q. Would you try a kimono?

A. Don’t tell me what to wear, you bastard.

The shocking reply left us speechless; TeensSpirit stared dreamily.

“She’s badass....”

“America lets that slide, huh.”

We almost cautioned them, but laughed instead.

As the conversation drifted to U.S. naturalization, freshly grilled meat arrived on everyone’s plates.

“Wow....”

“This is so good. When we grill ourselves, it’s always undercooked.”

“It’s unbelievable....”

Both TeensSpirit and we wore dazed expressions tasting the meat.

My goodness.

Such deliciousness. After days of dieting, it was like rain on parched tongues tap-dancing.

“Ha ha ha ha!”

Laughter warmed the table. Meanwhile, a familiar BGM and teaser appeared on TV.

“Up next, On the Stage.”

We pricked up our ears as TeensSpirit asked, “You like that show?”

“We’re on it this time.”

“No way...!”

They beamed, delighted.

“Now we have something to watch...!”

“There’s nothing good on Netflix—boredom solved.”

Was that why they were happy?

Explaining roughly what we’d been up to, we noticed TeensSpirit members tapping furiously on their phones.

They looked pleased with some grown-up activity.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh... nothing. Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing!”

We tilted our heads at their evasiveness. What had they done to react so nervously?

At the same time...

On Sunday, Yoon Seok-hwan, resting at home, watched his phone buzz.

“What the...?”

Who texts so much on a Sunday?

“Hmm...?”

He saw a dozen new messages—from six unknown numbers.

[(Photo of NewBlack at the table, tears streaming down their faces)]

Huh?

[Don’t worry.]

[We’re taking good care of them...]

[We’ll send them back when the time is right.]

“...!”

The TF team lead of NewBlack sprang to his feet without realizing it.