In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

Dancing cane.

Magicians use a string to make the cane float and drift through the air.

"Whoaaa."

The TNT members sprang to their feet and came closer to ask,

"What is this—how did you do it? Are you just moving it with a string?"

"Something like that."

When my classmates came close, I moved my hand and made the cane dance back and forth, and a wave of wows went around.

Main vocal Shin Juyeong ran a hand through his hair and said,

"Are you prepping end-of-year magic, not an end-of-year stage?"

"The production team said they’d love something fresh."

"It is fresh."

While Taehyeon and I were meeting about stage direction, this was one of the ideas that came up with a "How about this?"

When I snapped the cane into my hand, the TNT members sat back down.

"Yeah. That’s the level it takes to be Artist of ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) the Year."

"Not easy."

"But where did you learn it?"

I answered with a laugh.

"Self-taught. MeTube."

"You really do everything."

"Want to see something else?"

Feigning a grown-up air, the TNT members waved their hands and then cleared their throats to ask,

"Like... what else?"

"Coin magic."

"I mean, if you want to show it off you can—oooh! Hey! Did you see that? A coin came out of my ear!"

I burst out laughing at the seventh-year super seniors with eyes round like kids.

I wrapped it up around there and looked after Taehyeon.

"I actually came to practice. Mind if I steal him?"

"You don’t even have to return him. Take him~"

The TNT members snickered.

I gathered up the visibly displeased Taehyeon, eyes narrowed, and waved to the TNT members.

"See you in a bit."

"See you."

While the hyung line waved, the dongsaeng line tagged along behind me and Taehyeon.

Chwap.

Hanbyeol, Jihoon, and Hanbin clumped together and stuck to our backs.

"Why are you coming?"

"We want to watch practice. And, you know, direct."

At Seok Jihoon’s words, Jang Hanbyeol nodded.

"Right. As great seniors, we’ll even look at the choreo."

"Neither of you can dance."

At that absurd line, Taehyeon burst into laughter.

While I looked around the hall for an open space, with Hanbyeol’s arm slung over my shoulders I asked with a smile,

"Been well?"

"What’s there not to be—been good. Took a trip to America not long ago, did some photo shoots."

"Where’d you go in the States?"

"Chicago. My maternal grandmother’s there, so I rested up."

He said he was doing well, but the smile was oddly drained.

For some reason, the feeling of heading with them toward a corner of the hall felt like moving toward an ending.

I changed direction and moved to a different open spot.

"Shall we practice here?"

Taehyeon nodded.

The others went off to a corner, perched on the carpet, and started pulling snacks from their pockets.

Pretty soon our practice became some rare spectacle.

"You are now witnessing a historic scene of two people dancing at the same level."

"The TJ Entertainment trainers should be seeing this."

"Tsk tsk. I raised both of them."

Thanks to the nonsense flying from all sides, we could practice like it was the real thing.

"Very Very" by Aibeon, a popular soloist back in ’06, flowed from a phone on the floor.

I broke the moves into fine beats to the lyrics about how everyone’s bewitched even when I’m just walking down the street.

Next to me, Taehyeon matched the counts.

"Wow. Sun Wooju is dancing."

Honestly, it was something no one would have imagined.

In monthly evaluations he and I were always last and first in dance; when he was getting praised, I was in the corner practicing the rest.

And now we were doing a joint stage. The world is funny like that.

"Woooooooah!"

My original lackeys applauded and gave their critiques as they watched the performance.

"My score is zero points. You zeroed my heart."

"It was so good it made me sick."

"Your face looks a bit spaceship-like, but you did great."

Smiling at the overwhelming praise, I snapped my head at Hanbin’s last comment.

"What do you mean, spaceship-like?"

"It’s like, I’m the best one here—that expression. You don’t usually make that face."

"True."

"So it kind of feels like a spaceship doing swag?"

I kind of got what he meant.

Next to me, a certain Mr. Han checked the practice video Jihoon had shot and burst out laughing. He looked like he was having the time of his life.

"Ah, if I’m like this I won’t be able to focus on stage."

I turned on the phone’s selfie mode and tried out the smile I’d use on stage.

An arrogant, overflowing-confidence smile.

"...Doesn’t look like it. That’s the spaceship?"

When I flashed a sly grin, the four of them all went "Hahaha!" at once and clutched each other, laughing.

Our kids have a laugh barrier of about one centimeter—but these guys aren’t far behind.

I thought for a second.

"Should I change the expression? I can’t let it affect the stage."

"I’m kidding."

Jihoon shook his head.

"It just kind of feels that way. It’s not bad. It fits the stage."

"How’s the blocking? Look okay?"

"The choreo’s not bad. Han Tae, you put this together?"

"Yeah."

"Solid. I haven’t heard the song, but I’m sure you’ve both got that part covered."

Overall, strong reviews.

Since they’re brutally picky when it comes to choreo and vocals, I guess we don’t need to worry about viewers’ reactions.

After we synced lightly a few more times and went back to practicing the dancing cane—

"That weirdly fits the stage. At first I was like, why magic? and just thought it was neat."

"Agreed."

At Hanbin’s comment, Jihoon replied.

"But today is unusual overall. The stage concept too, and the cue sheet structure looks a bit unique."

"Isn’t it because that person’s doing the direction today?"

"Who?"

That was when the TNT members were chattering about it.

I saw someone pass in front of me as I practiced the dancing cane. A writer with a walkie-talkie, moving at a relaxed pace.

"Huh?"

At the sound I made, she stopped and turned her head.

"Oh? Wooju!"

"Hello! Writer-nim, how have you been?"

The members sitting behind us stood and gave an awkward greeting, then flicked their eyes at me. Who is that, the looks said.

"She’s the main writer for Mister Producer."

"Ah."

The TNT members put their hands together politely.

I was about to ask the smiling writer about recent news when—

"...?"

Something felt off.

This was Ilsan Kintex Exhibition Hall.

If I’d run into her at the PBS broadcast station in Yeouido, fine, but we weren’t in Yeouido now. We were at the venue for the year-end show.

"On the cue sheet Aiten doesn’t have a performance. Is Mister Producer filming today?"

"Hm?"

"It’s just—since you’re here..."

As her words trailed off, she laughed.

"Wooju, you didn’t know? We’re in charge of directing the Song Festival today."

"Ah."

"Oh gosh, my head. I’ve got to go deliver this. See you later!"

I bowed with a smile to the writer, then headed straight to the cue sheet posted on the nearby wall.

Next to the words "PBS Song Festival," in small print, was the Mister Producer PD’s name: "Director: Shin Muruk."

Right after, when I searched the internet, articles flowed up in a rush.

"—‘Low ratings’ PBS Song Festival, Director Shin Muruk to helm... ‘Will it be revived?’"

It looked like they’d brought in a variety PD to boost the Song Festival’s ratings, which had been called boring and too serious.

Taking in the seemingly large number of articles, I turned back.

"Did you guys know this?"

"Yeah."

"How did I not?"

My seventh-year seniors laughed and asked,

"How many hours have you slept lately?"

"Hold on."

I counted on my fingers and answered,

"About seven hours."

"In a week?"

"Yeah."

"You aware of what’s going on outside?"

"..."

I didn’t know much.

Senior singers who know how brutal the year-end season is patted my back with warm smiles.

"It’s been fun."

"Hey."

I shot them a look, and the four of them grabbed their bellies and laughed.

Then I looked again at the article on my phone.

"..."

I’ve never seen a variety PD direct a year-end stage.

"Wooju."

"Yes."

"Viewers like what they don’t expect."

With the image of PD Shin Muruk smiling with that downcast face flashing through my mind, I started feeling uneasy for some reason.

"Really?"

The youngest widened his eyes and asked,

"PD Shin Muruk is directing the Song Festival?"

"Yeah."

"No wonder they said they were shooting a ton of VCRs this time. There were a bunch of things that made me go, huh?"

The younger members were amazed at the news I brought.

And then—

"You guys didn’t know?"

Apparently our managers were amazed that we knew nothing. They must have figured we’d obviously know.

"After Japan, we did nothing but practice all day. Not enough time."

"True..."

With the latter half of the special album slated for a January release overlapping, we’d had a mountain of things to do.

When I scratched my cheek for no reason, Biju handed me a fork with a piece of apple stuck on it.

"Apples are good for aging, hyung."

"I wasn’t exactly thinking about aging..."

"..."

I felt only sadness as Biju deliberately looked away.

It hits me that in a few days I’ll be a year older.

"I want to look even younger."

"You already look young. Baby face, what are you worrying about."

"Right?"

At my sparkling grin, Ri Hyuk smiled too.

"But the fact people are already saying baby face means you’re not that young."

"..."

The maknae and Ri Hyuk high-fived and cackled.

As the elder, I let it slide with grace.

"Hyung, your phone’s buzzing."

"No. I’m trembling."

"Want something sweet?"

I took the snack Junghyeon offered and then checked the notes on my phone.

It was a collection of what I’d felt during the rehearsal stage—things to fix because of the differences between the practice room and the stage.

"Gather up."

We reorganized what to fix for Falling Blossoms, Empire, and Fireworks.

"You all realize the stage is bigger than we thought, right? It’s about one and a half times wider than we expected, but the music timing is the same. To hit the thrust-stage on cue, you need to move about one and a half times faster than usual."

"Yes."

"Because of the venue structure there’s some echo. Keep that in mind when you sing. And—"

I turned to Ri Hyuk as well.

"When the fireworks popped earlier, you flinched. If it bothers you, want to shift your path slightly behind Biju so it’s hidden?"

"I’m fine. I’ve got the timing now."

"Okay. We covered the rest earlier. Anyone else?"

Biju raised his hand.

"You all know your energy dips a bit going into Fireworks, right? After Falling Blossoms and Empire, there was a slightly floppy feeling."

"Yes..."

"I get that stamina drops, but when we hit the opening choreo, you’ve got to go in strong. Got it?"

Biju crisply showed the hand moves from the Fireworks intro with the rhythm.

When everyone nodded, our performance lead smiled.

"That’s all you need to keep."

"Got it~!"

We’ll do a check once before the main stage, but prepping like this early is best for image training.

While I pictured the stage layout and ran through the paths and order in my head—

"Singers! Stand by, please!"

Between the waiting rooms, an FD ran around spreading the word to come get ready.

Like an awards show, there were separate singer seats set up on stage.

I told the managers we’d be back and stepped into the corridor, which was teeming with singers coming out from everywhere.

"Hello! We’re Trickster!"

"Hello!"

Scarlet, Serenity, Blink, NYX, Street Boys, ENOTY, Teen Spirit, and so on.

We exchanged greetings with familiar faces here and there and went up to backstage.

"Waaaaaaa—!"

As we listened to the distant swell of cheers—

In the alphabetical entry order, we lined up after the Sweet Potato Trio, and a staffer with an intercom said he would give us hand signals.

I greeted a Sweet Potato Trio member who went "Oh" at the sight of us.

"Hello. We went to greet you earlier but you weren’t there."

"Oh dear, really."

"Senior, I’ve been enjoying ‘You’re Really So Ugly.’"

The Sweet Potato seniors smiled contentedly, and when Junghyeon whispered, "I’m a sweet potato too,"—

On the backstage monitor the staff were watching, we saw the PBS Song Festival begin.

And—

"Hm...?"

At the very first VCR, every singer blinked.

At the same time.

A Teen Spirit student fan, sitting on the sofa watching the HBS Entertainment Awards on TV, snuck a look.

"It’s about to start."

Her dad, holding the remote with a bored face, showed no sign of budging.

"Dad. Can we switch to PBS for a bit?"

"PBS?"

"The Song Festival."

"That thing’s not even fun. Just a bunch of kids I don’t know."

The young Teen Spirit fan swallowed tears that were about to spill and said,

"NewBlack—you know, groups like that—are on."

"Really?"

"And Teen Spirit is there too."

"Who?" 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

A flicker of curiosity crossed his bored face, then it went blank again. He didn’t seem interested.

"..."

She stared holes into the remote, and finally his hand crept to channel 7.

With "PBS2" on the corner of the screen, right on cue came the dun-dun-dun-dun~ and the "15 and up, gather here!" screen.

"It’s starting. It’s starting!"

Online, other fans were doing the drumroll too.

The darkened screen brightened, and a fairy-tale-like VCR appeared.

"Hm...?"

Father and daughter made the same sound together.

With a dainty, storybook BGM, a castle drawn in a picture-book style appeared. The banner flying above it read [PBS Kingdom].

A neat, voice-actor narration came in.

[Once upon a time, there was a peaceful music kingdom~]

It looked like the Mister Producer members had made a cameo. Variety entertainers in note-shaped headpieces were dancing in a ballroom.

They showed the peaceful music kingdom—only briefly.

Rrrrrrrumble—!

Thunder and lightning struck.

[Then one day, a crisis came.]

Like the Teletubbies’ sun, a sun with Junghyeon’s face blew hot gusts of breath—whooo.

LB of Street Boys laughed—hahaha!—from inside a cloud and poured down rain.

Teen Spirit’s Yeonhu got pelted by hail and went "Eeeek, so mean!" and she blinked.

"Huh?"

Yeonhu’s adorably bad acting was one thing.

"What am I watching right now?"

As her dad’s eyes opened in genuine interest beside her, baffled reactions were popping up online too.

Kyaa-cute entrances by various faves made people laugh, but they were still confused about what exactly this was.

Kugugugung!

Behind the castle of the cursed kingdom, dark clouds and lightning writhed.

[Your Majesty~! Your Majesty~! Trouble!]

[What is it?]

[Th-the well has run dry!]

When the Mister Producer members approached the castle’s well, a sign stood there: "Well of Ratings."

[The Well of Ratings has dried up!]

[Again!]

Viewers burst into laughter at the blatant low-ratings jab.

It was a crisis: the Well of Ratings, which had been dropping year after year, was now almost dried up.

So the people of the kingdom, like calling down Hwanung in the Dangun myth, held a rain-calling ritual to the sky and begged for salvation.

And—

[Behold!]

When the directing showed singers sprinkling down from the sky to save the ratings, everyone cracked up.

With that, captions rose on the screen.

[2016 PBS Song Festival]

[Fantastic stories are waiting for you!]

Then, with CG treatment, they showed the singers falling from the sky.

[Sweet Potato Trio!]

After a landing scene for the meme-song-famous Sweet Potato Trio, NewBlack appeared right after.

Four members came out doing a little bounce as they carried something.

What they had been carrying like a palanquin was set down, and Wooju descended as if from the heavens, landing with an elegant smile.

[NewBlack!]

Waving, the members gathered at center stage.

Benchmarking that, the singers who followed started gathering one by one, landing, or going "Oh my" and looking around like Peter Pan.

"Do..."

Dad asked,

"Are all year-end idol shows like this?"

"No. It’s my first time too..."

A year-end opening like nothing anyone had ever seen.

Starting from that, the PBS Song Festival’s ratings began to climb steadily, and a warm smile spread through the on-site control room.

"Good start."

"Nice, nice."

PD Shin Muruk looked at NewBlack on the TV with a tender smile.

"Thanks to them, I learned a lot."

This year, working on a project with NewBlack, PD Shin Muruk had gained many insights.

Of course—

If the people themselves heard that, they’d freak out.