In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

While Junghyeon was doing the headcount, we also took the singers and left the waiting room.

“Then let’s go too.”

The writer pointed at the name tags the Street Boys members had clipped over their casual clothes.

“What are those?”

“Oh. These.”

I explained on behalf of the singers who were loosening their throats.

“We’re going to do the dry rehearsal now, and these name tags are needed there.”

“Dry rehearsal?”

“Yes. Before the pre-recording, the rehearsal where they first check the camera framing is called a dry rehearsal. It’s easier to check when you’re wearing a name tag like this.”

“That’s fascinating.”

For the writer—who was asking on behalf of the viewers—I gave a brief intro to music shows.

The camera directors watch the choreography video the agency sent in advance and go, “Hey, let’s shoot it like this,” and settle on a plan.

On site, they check again with name tags on.

While recording, the PD in the sub-control room looks at the lyric sheet and does the camera cutting— that’s the system I explained.

“As expected of our Chief.”

“Learned!”

“A well-raised Ju Sunu isn’t jealous of ten spaceships!”

When I glared coolly at the Street Boys members who were clapping like they were teasing me, they all looked elsewhere.

“Okay. Then last headcount.”

At Ri Hyuk’s words, the Street Boys did headcount. When they lined up three by three and confirmed all nine were present—

“By the way, Manager Seo.”

“Yes, Namu?”

“Where is Manager Biju?”

“...Well, obviously—”

Just as Ri Hyuk and the rest were about to say, “Right here,” we all blinked.

He wasn’t there.

The kid was gone.

He’d definitely been with us when we came out, but now he’d vanished without a trace.

“...How does a person disappear in three seconds.”

While the Street Boys burst out laughing and I was kneading the back of my neck—

From behind the staff, a clear voice was heard.

“Thank you so much!”

Biju, who had bowed to someone, came running, breathing hard.

Seeing the familiar sight of someone who’d gotten lost at the broadcast station as usual, my brothers and I quickly looked into the camera and winked.

“PD-nim. Please~ edit this~”

We sang in harmony and the camera director’s cheek twitched.

The Street Boys went ooo.

“A manager who’s supposed to inspire confidence— huh? Is this okay?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Look at that shamelessness. So that’s how you become a Chief.”

“Sad. Where did that once-reliable mint-choco captain go, and who’s this wildcat that showed up...”

Maybe because there were nine of them—once one spoke, the rest buzzed like a swarm of bees.

I felt like I could understand the hardships of kindergarten teachers.

There’s a simple method for moments like this.

As we walked toward the open hall, I sidled up to Namu and slipped a snack into his hand.

“Huh?”

“You look low on sugar. Have one.”

“...How did you know? Thank you.”

When the noisiest kid in the group started quietly munching his snack, the noise dropped to about one-tenth.

Biju’s eyes sparkled as he opened a notes app.

“Feed a snack to the loudest person...”

“The stickier the better. Stuff that glues to the mouth. Especially candy that you have to melt.”

“Sticky snacks... Then what about saying someone looks low on sugar?”

“There isn’t a modern person whose sugar doesn’t drop.”

“Wise saying... note...”

Then Jiho, next to Biju, asked:

“But how do you come up with things like that right away?”

“There was one loud guy in the army.”

“Ah...”

My younger brothers laughed, realizing who I meant.

Ignoring the wavering shadow of someone beyond the Sagan production crew, we entered the open hall.

“Hello! We’re Street Boys!”

While the Street Boys hopped up the wooden steps onto the stage, we approached the camera directors.

“Hello, Director.”

“Oh!”

The directors burst into hearty laughter and shook hands with us when we offered ours politely.

“What brings you here?”

“We’re here today to film TBC variety. We’re shooting a manager special for ‘People Go.’”

“Ohhh, so this is that. You see all sorts of things. Anyway, nice to see you~”

“Please take good care of our Street Boys.”

Maybe the way we talked like managers was funny; the directors nodded.

When we stepped over toward the backstage TV, the Street Boys’ repack title track stage began.

Wearing street clothes, the members shook their legs to an urban funk-style song.

“Hyung, do I film this?”

“Yeah.”

I filmed the rehearsal video flowing on the TV with my phone camera.

It was to show the singers.

LB, mask pulled down to his chin, thrust out his mic and rapped while we checked if there were any issues on stage.

Ri Hyuk looked everything over meticulously and # Nоvеlight # said,

“Once the task changes, what you see really does change.”

“Right.”

“Let’s make sure to secure Rex’s mic pack in a bit. It looks a little wobbly.”

When I worked as a singer, I didn’t know, but looking at the stage as a manager, there were a hundred little things to mind.

Whether there were any issues with the sound, whether the members were looking properly at the cameras.

It hadn’t even been a few hours since we started, but I already felt that what Mingi hyung and Wonseok hyung had done for us wasn’t easy at all.

How long has it been that I’m already starting to miss...

-We’re heading out~

-Have a good shoot. Hahaha!

...Grinding my teeth, I thought of the traitors.

I’m only buying them pork belly for a while.

“Phew~”

When the dry rehearsal ended and the Street Boys members came down, the maknae in charge of odd jobs handed out water bottles.

Hanjo took a sip and asked,

“You filmed the video, right? I want to check it right away.”

“Here.”

When we handed over the phone, they began watching in little clusters of three or four.

“It’s fine, yeah? Not bad.”

“Mung, you look like you’re slipping out of frame; you should step a little more inside.”

“Got it.”

“Hey. And once your part is over, get out quick, okay?”

While they traded those notes among themselves, the singers gave each other feedback, and we were compiling items to pass on to the stylists when—

“Huh...?”

The group around Hanjo, who’d been watching the video, blinked. The camera director behind them did the same.

Their eyes went wide as if a UFO had been caught on video, and I asked,

“What’s up?”

“Fwahahaha!”

This time they suddenly burst into laughter.

Did the auto-play spill some random clip from my phone? I got tense in an instant.

If something like the three-piece aegyo video I prepared for my grandma’s birthday came up, that would be bad.

“Um, Chief Ju Sunu.”

Hanjo handed back my phone, his cheek twitching.

“Composer Wooju sent a message.”

“Sorry?”

“We weren’t trying to look, but the chat notifications kept popping up on the screen.”

“...?”

I pulled down the notification shade, and there were a ton of messages from Na Sangyun PD of the Producing Team.

Na Sangyun [Chief Producer-nim]

Na Sangyun [Is this a workload made for a human to do? Hm?]

Na Sangyun [Wooju]

Na Sangyun [I, too, have human rights]

Na Sangyun [Spare me..]

Na Sangyun [TTTTTTTTTT]

Smiling at our Team Leader Na’s desperate chats, I looked at the camera.

“Can’t edit that out, right?”

Nod, nod.

I tucked the phone into my arms and smiled bright.

“What you just saw is a misunderstanding.”

“Fwahahaha!”

“No, really, it’s a misunderstanding.”

I tried saying, “Our Lemon Entertainment guarantees human rights...” but no one believed me.

“PD-nim.”

-Mmhm...

“Okay, please say this to the camera. The chat I just sent was just banter between close colleagues.”

-But it’s true.

“PD-nim~~?”

-We are... close colleagues...

“You can’t pretend you’re being forced to say it like that!”

On the other end of the video call, PD Na Sangyun cackled.

Back when he appeared on Mister Producer, he had a hard time doing variety, but now it seemed he’d overcome his camera shyness.

Laughing at ease, PD Na drawled that it was a misunderstanding.

“You must be really tired.”

At the writer’s question, the PD shook his head.

-It’s just a joke among us. We were supposed to work together, but suddenly he says a variety shoot came up? Hahahaha!

“...”

-When the chief PD suddenly disappears without warning...

The Sagan production crew—who had been delighted to have found good prey—hurriedly sent their thanks and ended the call.

“We were actually supposed to work together today.”

“Ah...”

Seeing the writer hesitate, I smiled and sent PD Na a chat saying I’d help remotely late at night if needed.

He immediately replied that it was fine.

“Will he be okay?”

“Yeah. He must have a lot to do.”

We were preparing a full album now.

The world tour was roughly slated for late April, so the album needed to come out between late March and mid-April.

With about two and a half months left, it was time to start preparing, so PD Na and we were putting together the skeleton of the plan.

“I’m back.”

The warm voice cut off my thoughts about future plans.

Taking off his sunglasses and cap and making his hair fluffy, Junghyeon grinned at us.

“Let’s go eat sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches!”

We all immediately ran to the snack bar.

While the snack-bar lady welcomed us enthusiastically—

“...I-it’s really the sandwiches.”

It was the famous specialty of Deungchon-dong, the first we’d had since Nine activities.

As we happily held our sandwiches, Yugeon scratched at his hair under the red bandana and asked,

“Is it really your first time in a while? The Teen Spirit seniors bought tons to give to NewBlack.”

“Oh. Right, they did. But...”

We said, eyes shining,

“Eating it right here on the spot and eating a sandwich that’s been steamed in a bag for hours are different things.”

“现场 has its own taste.” (Translator’s note: saying “on site tastes better.”)

“I agree.”

Even Ri Hyuk joined in, primly peeling the plastic.

“Okay, okay! Cheers!”

“To the sandwich!”

“Nice to see you!”

As we clinked the ends of the five sandwiches with a chop, the Street Boys smiled fondly and praised us.

“You guys always have fun.”

“Let’s hurry and eat too. Eating with them is like watching a mukbang while eating.”

The nine-member group also unwrapped a sandwich each, and other staff snacked and rested.

While the crew swapped the camera memory cards, we chatted.

Giwon asked Junghyeon,

“How was the community headcount?”

“Mm, it was kind of fascinating. There were things where I went, ohh, so this is how they do it... and some of it was a little sad.”

“Sad?”

“There were people who didn’t get in. I don’t really know, but apparently if you don’t have certain prep items, you can’t enter.”

“...There’s a scenario where you get rejected?”

“Seems so.”

We knew fans suffer a lot waiting for hours, but we didn’t really know the mechanism of how they participate.

“That’s interesting.”

“Right? I was going wow the whole time.”

“...You didn’t get your identity exposed, did you?”

“No.”

We checked the internet, and nothing was on the real-time search or in the news yet.

Lead vocal Younghan casually lifted his phone, tap-tap-tapped, then whispered,

“Fans are talking among themselves, but I don’t think they’ve put a finger on it yet.”

“Ohh. No hard proof?”

“No, they say Junghyeon hyung shed hair there.”

“...”

Junghyeon, who’d been smoothing his hair, went huh? For a second I wondered if he could even feel a single strand missing.

“Wow, my hair really does fall out easily.”

“...Anyone who scratches their head sheds hair, Junghyeon.”

“My hair actually doesn’t fall out much.”

Like curious puppies, the Street Boys lifted a finger and boing set it on Junghyeon’s hair.

Hanjo turned his head to the crew.

“Um, PD-nim.”

“Yes.”

An assistant director from Sagan answered.

“What should we say if fans ask later? Do we have to keep this a secret?”

“No. Not necessarily...?”

Then he asked back instead,

“Junghyeon didn’t get recognized?”

“No.”

“...How did he not get recognized?”

“We think that’s amazing too.”

“To be honest, we were preparing a press release expecting he’d be recognized. Well, you can make it public whenever it’s convenient.” 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

We discussed revealing it to fans during the pre-recording and each contacted our companies’ PR teams.

Naturally, we handled communication for both sides.

“We’re doing this part too, right?”

“Yes.”

“Very real.”

We made an awkward first introduction with DNS Media’s PR team and calmly discussed matters related to the press release.

LB asked, as if it were all incredibly fascinating,

“How do you even know how to do that?”

“Because I always eavesdrop when the manager hyungs are on the phone.”

“Amazing, hyung. I fall asleep the moment I get in the car.”

That was Namu, telling the episode where everyone got out and he alone was napping so blissfully that it caused a fuss.

Hearing it again, the Street Boys got fired up and turned Gam Namu into firewood.

While thinking about what would be good to do on this variety, we decided to ask the Street Boys for their ideas.

“Soliciting opinions?”

“Yeah.”

After finishing their Inkigayo sandwiches, they had moved on to souffle bread, chocolate flavor, when we asked,

“Things you’ve wanted to do in your activities... or parts of your activities you’d like us to pay attention to.”

“Mm...”

Lead dancer Mung scratched his chin and smiled with Snorlax-like eyes.

“To be honest, there’s nothing inconvenient about our activities at all.”

(Interpretation) I won’t say it on broadcast.

“Mung’s right. We’re doing really well. The concepts are good every time. Teamwork is overflowing.”

(Interpretation) This damned company. Sigh.

We gave these professional idols—who smiled radiantly and managed their expressions—a kindly smile.

Giwon looked into the air, went hmm, then said,

“If there’s something to wish for—variety?”

“Variety?”

“Yeah. We’d like to do variety work, but... it’s not easy, right? There are a lot of us.”

Meeting us was nice, but one of the reasons the Street Boys’ faces were bright right now was exactly because they were appearing on a variety show.

Unlike girl groups with heavy public appeal, boy groups don’t get called to variety as often.

Right then, the TV in the snack bar was showing Serenity performing their comeback song, with crisp, angular choreo.

“Are the Serenity members also appearing on People Go this time?”

“Yeah.”

While they munched their souffle bread and chatted like that—

Below the TV.

Through the snack bar’s outer glass, a person walking by caught my eye.

The moment I saw someone with a binder tucked under their arm scurrying along, a face matched in my head.

“Huh?”

“I think I just saw someone I know. I’ll go say hi real quick.”

“Go and come back~”

Waving to my brothers, I stepped out of the snack bar.

One hour later.

Before the pre-recording, the waiting room labeled [Street Boys] started to get busy.

“I’ll check the mics once more!”

“Please put on one more layer of lip.”

“Is this properly secured?”

Now it would be one more pass on stage for rehearsal and then straight into the pre-recording.

The last music show.

Having made it into the number-one candidates, the Street Boys members were loosening up with tightly nervous faces.

But...

‘Where did Sun Wooju go?’

Hanjo looked around and asked,

“Where’s Wooju?”

“I don’t know either. He said it would take him a moment.”

At Ri Hyuk’s answer—he was checking that the mic pack was properly secured—the Street Boys tilted their heads.

‘What?’

At first he’d said he’d run into someone he knew and would go say hello, but twenty minutes passed with no word.

Then the writer and the camera director, who had gotten a message from Wooju, stood up and went outside.

Then another thirty minutes.

Now that he’d been away nearly an hour— the famed absence of Chief Ju Sunu— the Street Boys marveled.

“Wow. He really is like a Chief.”

He’d be with them until five minutes ago, and when they came to, he’d always vanished somewhere.

They didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but he’d drift away and then drift back just as smoothly— a familiar sight.

[click]

The door opened and everyone’s attention focused— but it wasn’t Wooju.

“Street Boys, let’s get you ready!”

“Yes!”

We heard the music-show staff shut the door and patter away.

Hanjo, who had exhaled and loosened his body, smiled with satisfaction at the face shining clearly in the mirror.

‘With makeup on, I’m at least presentable...’

...he was thinking when the door opened and a surreally handsome man came in.

Hanjo sighed as he looked at the mirror.

Why.

Why is it always—

‘That guy...’

He was scolding his friend in his heart—why do you always show up at moments like this—when—

“Hyung! Where did you go?”

“Ah...”

Wooju, slightly out of breath as if he’d run, grinned.

“I got to talking while saying hello. It was a writer I met on another variety at a different network.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Apparently they moved to the H network recently. So we were chatting and the topic came up.”

Junghyeon handed Wooju a bottle of water as he swallowed.

From the way the camera director and writer were grinning hugely behind him— he’d accomplished something.

“Do you know the variety ‘—’?” (title redacted in the scene; previously ‘Variety Company’)

“It used to be called ‘Variety Company’ before the name change.”

“Of course.”

It’s the hit show that feeds the HBS variety division.

As the Street Boys went huh? and their eyes widened, Chief Sun Wooju straightened his coat and asked,

“Do you want to appear on it?”

“...Sorry?”

“I secured a variety schedule. Want to try appearing?”

“...Sorry?”

The Street Boys members went blank-faced.

Chief fashion.

Truly disappearing somewhere like a real chief.

We’d joked he seemed like a real chief, and now he’d actually brought back a schedule as if he were one.

“W-wait a second...”

The Street Boys blinked, dazed.

“So you’re saying you... fetched what, exactly?”

“I asked about a schedule.”

“...”

The Street Boys all blinked in unison.

‘What the heck. Why is he so competent?’

No.

That wasn’t the point...

‘Who goes on a “manager experience” variety and actually asks for a real schedule...’

It was a scale that made their minds go distant.