In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

We looked at each other.

"Kids..."

"Awards...?"

We pictured ourselves saying, Thank you! American children! while kids at the venue did seal claps.

Jiho burst out laughing.

"Then the children will clap and all that, right?"

"Yeah."

"...For real?"

Seokhwan opened MeTube, tapped away, and showed us a video that said "Kids' Choice Awards."

The award show MC was spraying green slime like a machine gun at happily laughing child audiences.

[bang bang bang bang bang bang bang!]

The children screamed, and then a sheet of green slime splashed down over the MC’s head, turning him into a green person.

Our pupils wobbled.

"What even is this..."

"Is this like the American version of NewBlack TV or something. Over there."

The MC was a famous movie actor whose face we knew, which made his slime-covered look even wilder.

Ri Hyuk recoiled.

"This seriously looks sticky. Even if you tried to wipe it off, it’d take hours..."

"Are you even allowed to just dump slime like that?"

"I really wouldn’t want to get hit."

At our reactions, Seokhwan shook his head.

"This isn’t something just anyone gets. They only dump it on you if you’re famous or have name recognition."

"I want to get hit..."

"So it was the good kind of slime..."

Eyes sparkling, we stared at the screen, and Seokhwan continued.

"Anyway, that’s the show. It’s a popularity vote by American kids... Put simply, think of it as electing America’s kid-president."

"If it’s kid-president, that’s us."

"Right."

We were number one in “elementary schoolers’ most popular idol,” after all.

According to Biju’s little brother Minjun, if it ever got out at school that he was a member’s little brother, life would get hard.

Wherever we go, with elementary schoolers we’re just...

"Wait."

Ri Hyuk said to us:

"But this is America, right?"

"Oh."

"Right."

We turned our eyes back to Seokhwan.

"Why would American elementary schoolers... be into us?"

"How should I know."

"No, really, why...?"

If some cable music awards somewhere in the States said they’d invited us, that might at least make sense.

But some random kids’ awards...?

And then the talk that our chances of winning were high.

"What is this, seriously?"

We followed the company’s link and opened the awards site.

With the tagline “2017 Kids’ Choice Awards,” hosted by the biggest kids’ channel in the U.S., the nominees came up.

Best Global Music Star.

"Mandy Spice, Ocean Five. Hailey Blue..."

Famous teen stars and teen bands, even Hailey.

People I always had on my playlist when I skimmed the Billboard charts.

And there, the words [The New Black] were written.

"..."

"..."

We stared at the screen and then looked at one another.

"Eh~ no way."

"It won’t be us."

I just couldn’t picture children squealing, It’s NewBlack! and chasing us around.

The U.S. agency said our odds were high.

But would a foreign awards show hand a trophy to a group from another country that easily? They’d obviously try not to, if anything.

"If it happens, we’ll think then. If it happens."

"Let’s think about it when we get there."

After that exchange, each of us either stared out the plane window or started searching for movies on our screens.

Well.

If it happens, that’s a good thing.

That night. New York.

At the kids’ network headquarters in Times Square, an incredulous exclamation burst out.

Martin from Marketing walked up to his coworker.

"What’s up?"

"This is insane..."

The coworker staring at the laptop had his eyes wide.

Martin looked at the screen.

"A graph?"

There were modest little bar graphs—except one that stuck straight up.

"What is that?"

"You know the Kids’ Choice Awards voting started today, right?"

"Yeah. You’re the one in charge."

"I’m saying I can’t believe what I’m seeing. It doesn’t seem real, and yet there it is, plain as day..."

"What’s the problem? Are we seeing ballot stuffing?"

At Martin’s question, coffee in hand, the coworker answered.

"No."

"Then was there a hacking attempt?"

"No."

"Then what’s the problem?"

At that, the coworker turned the laptop around. The glare cleared and the screen came into sharp focus.

Best Global Music Star.

At the very top of the rankings...

"Ocean Five? Those guys are huge."

"You’re reading the graph wrong."

"Oh. Am I? Right. Ocean Five is the one on the left, and right next to them is Hail— NewBlack?"

"Yeah."

"NewBlack?"

"Yeah."

Blinking, Martin looked up the skyscraper-like bar, straight as the Empire State Building.

A single tower rising from low rolling hills.

But the vote numbers looked weird.

"Strange... Wait, can you pull up day-one votes from last year?"

"I already did."

Mandy Spice’s day-one vote total last year was almost the same as this year’s day-one total.

But last year’s bar looked huge, and this year’s looked tiny.

The coworker said:

"That’s just how it looks relatively. Switch to absolute numbers and it’s this."

He changed the graph settings, and the absolute counts comparing last year and this year popped up.

Among a pack of similar bars, NewBlack’s was still poking up way higher.

Martin set his coffee cup down.

"What’s the spread with second place?"

"Ten to one."

"..."

"We even changed it this year so only kids can vote. And it’s still like this."

"..."

Silence fell over the office.

The two of them stared holes through the laptop screen and then looked at each other.

"No way..."

"Why...?"

Exactly the same reaction as the nominees themselves.

They’d put them on the shortlist because the early polling looked good, but once the real voting opened, a crazy wave of firepower had hit.

And it was kids’ firepower...

"How is this..."

As he was saying is this even happening, a familiar name came from the TV playing in the office.

"—NewBlack are..."

It was the “Hot Issue of the Day” on local news.

With barricades set up, cops with hands on their belts walked around while lightsaber-wielding superfans ran around like Jedi.

As a boy band in colorful jackets stepped out of a car, the cheers were so loud the cameraman’s camera shook.

"...It tracks."

"Convinced."

Wearing warm smiles, the two employees looked back at the laptop.

"Anyway, we’ve got a problem."

"A big one. We don’t have anything prepped for those guys. What do we do?"

"We start prepping now..."

Martin rubbed his temples.

Watching NewBlack’s votes climb by the hundreds per second in real time made his shoulders lock up with tension.

In this industry, the most important thing is numbers.

"If we handle this wrong, we’re dead."

Just like talk show producers before them, the awards organizers snapped to and started getting ready with clear eyes.

After we wrapped a short schedule in New York—

"Dear beloved producing team."

"Lies!"

"Starting with lies!"

"...Dear not-beloved producing team."

I smiled at the producers with long, gray faces.

"At last, the joyful season of album-making has arrived!"

"Ta-da!"

"..."

Absolutely no reaction.

I looked at the handycam in Wonseok’s hands, then smiled at the producing team.

"You should be smiling."

"Wooooo..."

After returning the enthusiastic response with a bow, I assigned tasks to the staff whose eyes were bright and shining.

"Okay. Our next title track is Coin. Coin."

"Makes me think of Bitcoin. In a show I watched recently... I mean—listening closely, executive producer."

One producer who’d gone off on a tangent snapped to under our gaze.

I went on with a brief concept intro.

"Back when we were kids, a single coin at the arcade made us happy. Playing games together with friends."

"The corner store had an old game cabinet too."

"In high school we’d do DDR and Pump, and I even did Turkish March, I’m serious."

I nodded along with the nostalgia washing over the uncles and said:

"Anyway, it’ll be a song with a touch of retro. Keep that unique arcade sound a little alive... but overall I want it to feel sleek. In video terms, like capturing people hanging out in an old arcade, but filmed with modern visual polish?"

As they listened to the track and I laid out the general vibe, the producers all got a sense of how to tackle it.

Then I told the A&R team the submission requirements for the song call.

"Please make sure detailed concept info doesn’t leak. Maybe it’s just me, but whenever we do a song call, some other company’s track comes out with a similar concept."

"We’ll be careful with what we pass on."

We’d already finished concept talks with the TF Team, so as producer I’d done all the groundwork I could.

My own to-dos were composing the title song and overseeing the whole thing.

While building the album’s skeleton, I also had to gather a designer and everyone else for the visuals.

"Busy, busy."

Mid-month we had the maknae’s graduation ceremony and five days of shooting for Travel Diary, so I needed to burn through my stamina before then.

PD Na Sangyun, working in the studio with me, said:

"People need to see how you guys actually work."

"Why?"

"Everyone thinks we’re the ones getting ground up, but in reality you’re the ones working the hardest."

"Really...?"

I tilted my head and shrugged.

"But I’ve found it’s best not to show the hard parts. There are always people who’ll go, ‘You think you’re the only ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) ones who work hard?’"

"True. There’s all kinds."

"As a rule, it’s better if only we know what’s hard. It’s not great for fans either."

It’s more fun when all you see is what’s fun and good.

If you learn the person you liked was having a rough time during the period you were loving them, it just makes your heart feel bad for no reason.

And when people feel bad, they naturally turn their eyes elsewhere.

"First we grind hard so everyone else has a reason to get fired up too. Right?"

"Right..."

"Okay! Clock-out is tomorrow morning! Hahaha! I’ll order your favorite hangover soup for breakfast."

"Yay..."

"Kids!"

"Wooooo..."

Buoyed by our members and the producing team, the new title track Coin took shape fast.

February flew by.

The TF Team was busy training new managers and making the album, the A&R team ran the song call, and the producing team got ground up.

While everyone handled their roles at a dead sprint, Sunday rolled around again.

["People Are Going" manager special... "So what happens today?"]

It was the day the second half of the two-part manager special of People Are Going would air.

After basically pulling three all-nighters—

We sprawled in the break room, munching snacks.

We sat half-lying on the sofa, set a snack bag on our bellies, and every time we got hungry, we’d lift the bag and eat.

"Stop dropping crumbs..."

"I don’t have the strength to lift the bag."

"How old are you guys. Seriously."

While Ri Hyuk poked our sides with a broom and we squirmed, going hey, hey—

We were flipping channels when Taehyun’s UNICEF ad came on.

"Hm...?"

Junhyun perked an ear.

"Someone’s coming."

"Who?"

"Not sure, but the footfalls sound unfamiliar. Sounds I’ve never heard mixed with, hmm... Mingi, I think."

I could guess, so I sat up quickly, flicked off the crumbs, wiped my mouth, and paired up to check each other’s faces.

Biju and I faced each other.

"Nothing."

"Right side, under your lip."

"Okay."

Just like when junior idols drop by to say hello at a broadcast station, we finished transforming and waited.

[click]

The door opened and four men walked in.

"Oh. Here you were."

Behind Mingi at the front, three men wearing hoodies with the NewBlack logo shuffled in.

Familiar sight.

Back when I served as an admin clerk, the very first transfers would walk in with that exact look. Backs ramrod straight like sticks, eyes rolling around as they took cues.

They even had duty notebooks tucked at their sides—really like new recruits.

"This is..."

Mingi, smiling like a seasoned manager, said:

"These are the new managers we’re about to deploy. Say hello."

"Hello!"

"Ah, hello...!"

The three managers, faces tight with nerves, stared at us with eyes wide.

Mingi laughed.

"They’re like that because it’s the first time they’ve seen celebrities up close."

Then he told the managers:

"Don’t be too shy. Our kids are exactly the same as on TV."

"Please take good care of us~!"

"Everyone in the country knows our members’ names, so we’ll skip that. Please introduce yourselves."

The three rolled their eyes, gauging the mood, and the loudest voice went first.

"I’m Kyung Minsu. I majored in security studies."

"Wooooo!"

We did seal claps, and then the others followed. A calm, bespectacled twenty-something:

"I’m Oh Jongwan."

"I’m Kim Jiwun."

In order: Mr. Minsu, Mr. Jongwan, Mr. Jiwun.

We decided to stick with mutual honorifics and call everyone Mr. for now.

After the intros, we asked Mingi:

"Should we give you the room? If you need to run training..."

"No, you can stay. Today I brought them for audiovisual training."

"AV training?"

"Yeah. People Are Going manager special."

We burst out laughing.

The idea of using a variety show where idols played managers as training material for new managers made us laugh.

"This?"

"Yeah."

Mingi meant it.

"You guys did an amazing job, so I figured it’d be easier for these guys to understand if they see it firsthand."

"I was really impressed by episode one."

Mr. Minsu’s deep voice chimed in.

"NewBlack... you all did so well, we’re trying to learn by watching you."

"I see."

"I can’t imitate the comedy, but I’ll do my best to learn the work."

"Ah..."

He was very earnest.

It was the kind of tone where you couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not, and by the time you decided when to laugh, the moment had passed.

Junhyun smiled warmly and asked:

"Want some snacks?"

"Yes. Thank you."

While the managers awkwardly rustled through the snack bags, Jusehan ended and People Are Going started.

Just like last week, it picked up right with Street Boys.

It cut to the bit where I “stole” a variety slot, with the caption:

[1 hour earlier]

"—Feels like it’s been a while since last time we met on that show."

"—Yeah."

A quick scene of me chatting warmly with the writer rolled, and we discussed scheduling.

Mingi said:

"When you greet broadcast staff, do it like that. Polite, the way Chief Joo Sunwoo does it there. If you come off too deferential, that’s actually bad."

The new managers picked up pens.

"Polite and courteous..."

"Dragging in a schedule like that almost never happens. That’s chief-level manager territory."

"Chief-level manager territory..."

Um, I’m an idol, though.

"Even I can’t do that."

"Team lead can’t do it either..."

"You don’t need to write that part down."

I didn’t know why this was so funny.

Every time Mingi said a line, watching them go "Note..." and jot it down so seriously was just comical.

Soon the music show pre-record segment rolled.

Mr. Jongwan pushed up his glasses.

"There are so many cameras..."

"You’ll gradually get used to what’s what."

We gave a quick rundown.

"The fixed one at center is the main camera, and the ones on either side are the two close-ups. Those three are the standard cameras. The directors standing there are the most senior. On site, they have the most pull after the PD..."

Jimmy Jibs on both ends—explained the overhead shots.

We covered the Steadicam the directors wear while walking backward, plus the dolly cameras running on rails.

"That one’s a high-speed camera, great for grabbing intense choreo in slow motion. When someone’s in a revealing outfit, they’ll sometimes sweep with that and pretend not to notice."

As the maknae explained, the managers’ pens were on fire.

We told them they’d pick it up naturally once they were out doing music shows, but for now they looked determined to record everything.

Meanwhile on TV, Serenity and Sbo kept alternating.

"[Hello, seniors. I’m Kevin of APb. I’m lacking in many ways, but thank you in advance.]"

Maybe because he was around a girl group, Eunsung suddenly became a functional human, managing like a normal manager.

It cut to us at Street Boys’ fansign, standing there awkwardly.

Even remembering it made us laugh as we watched.

"Watch and learn. He’s doing it by the manager textbook."

"Yes, team lead."

"Just copy him. Frankly, even that much puts you in S-class among managers."

As Mingi said that, we giggled inside.

"[Mr. Hanjo.]"

"[Yes?]"

"[Are you by any chance interested in a one-act drama?]"

"[Pardon...?]"

When I showed up with a drama-department director and a one-act script, the managers blinked.

Mr. Jiwun spoke up, timidly.

"Is that also..."

"No."

Mingi smiled wistfully.

"That’s a chief’s domain. Still far from where I am as a team lead..."

"But Mr. Wooju is an idol...?"

"..."

"I’m sorry."

"It’s fine..."

We burst out laughing at Mingi gazing off sadly into the distance.