In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

A friend popped up behind me out of nowhere.

“Hey!”

Fuming, Hanjo tried to jab the friend cackling beside him in the ribs.

No.

He tried to jab him.

“Missed me.”

[whoosh!]

Petty annoyance flared and he went to poke-poke-poke all over with his fingers, but the friend slipped away, leaving afterimages.

About three minutes into his fierce assault on Sun Wooju, Hanjo spoke carefully.

“Let me land one.”

“Nope.”

“Just one poke. It’s my wish. I’ll cash in that wish coupon from last time.”

“Okay. Sure. Then.”

Wooju spread his arms wide like he was offering up his side to stab. Hanjo nodded and pressed in with his fingertip, slooowly...

[swish!] [whoosh!]

“Missed me!”

“Hey!”

“Kyahaha!”

“Ugh!”

“I let you try, so the wish coupon is now void~ There was no condition that I couldn’t dodge.”

Watching him suffer, Sun Wooju clutched his stomach and cackled.

“Demon.”

Was it even possible for a human to be this infuriating?

He wanted so badly to flick him, just once, even a single knuckle rap. Just one clean snap on that head with the goofy Shin-chan grin...

“Ya!”

A surprise jab.

Wooju tilted his head with a smooth, Matrix-hero move and slipped it at once.

Even Kim Junhyun would’ve applauded those reflexes.

“What is this guy even made of.”

What was the point of building muscle with all that training. He couldn’t even land a single flick on this slim friend.

He was staring at the guy in defeat when Wooju, lightly scratching his cheek, spoke.

“Oh. Right. You been well?”

“...You sure took your time asking.”

“You startled me so I couldn’t. I was too shocked.”

“No...”

He wanted to argue, but the logic circuitry in his head tangled.

Seeing his friend twist things with sophistry to make him the bad guy, Hanjo stared into space with a deeply regretful face.

“Shouldn’t have become friends.”

Back at debut, Hanjo really had wanted to be friends with NewBlack’s leader.

Handsome, well-mannered.

His main job went without saying.

So whenever he had a chance to chat, he’d run simulations in his head like, “What should I say to Mr. Wooju.”

He’d wanted to be that close.

“Kyarrreuk!”

“...”

Those were the days.

Once they got close, all the pranks he used to pull on younger groupmates were now flying right back at him from this guy.

“He did this during the Manager Special too...”

Thinking that, Hanjo saw Wooju bowing politely with a slight nod to a staffer he passed in the hallway.

“Well.”

He revised his thinking a bit.

“Maybe this isn’t so bad in its own way.”

He knew how thoroughly Wooju drew lines with anyone outside his boundary, so it might be better that they were friends.

It had taken nearly three years just to get this close.

“Oh. Right.”

Wooju rummaged in the envelope in his hand.

He pulled out one small gift box and held it out.

“What’s this?”

“Bought it in the States. They were selling magic wands. Push the button and it even lights up.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s pink.”

“!”

A truly precious friend.

Hanjo stopped his mouth from splitting into a grin and tucked the gift box away.

“I’m putting it by my bed.”

Watching Hanjo hum without meaning to, his friend’s eyes softened into a smile.

At that look, Hanjo tilted his head. “Hm?”

“By the way—why are you wearing a mask?”

With his hood pulled low and a mask on, he looked exactly like a celebrity trying to move incognito.

“Come to think of it.”

Earlier the DNS Media trainees had pointed at Wooju and introduced him as a Lemon Entertainment trainee.

What was that about?

When Hanjo asked for the whole story, Wooju explained from “Silhouette Masking” to how he’d been mistaken for a trainee.

“Pffthahaha!”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m dying. Seriously.”

Wooju griped, like, try going through that yourself, while Hanjo burst out laughing.

“The trainees all gathered like, ‘Wow, you’re from Lemon?’ and then from the side someone went, ‘You look like Senior Wooju.’”

“You didn’t tell them?”

“How was I supposed to say I’m Wooju in that situation? And...”

“Hm?”

“Never mind.”

Wooju had more to say but stopped.

It felt like there was another reason he was hiding his identity.

“Hmmm...”

“Don’t stare holes in me. Don’t try to see through it.”

“Hmmmmm...”

Hanjo slit his eyes at his friend.

“Something’s off.”

Even though he came in plain clothes, he was wearing just a normal hoodie and jeans without florals or sparkles.

Add the mask to hide his identity and the hood pulled low.

By any look, this wasn’t how a celebrity drops by to visit a senior singer. It felt like a covert visit.

“And he’s even hiding his silhouette?”

Hanjo’s brain, whose number two dream after “magical princess” was “detective,” spun up fast.

Sun Wooju visited Scarlet and doesn’t really want it known.

But he definitely has a reason to be here.

“Oh.”

A flash went off in Hanjo’s head.

“You wrote a song.”

“...”

[flinch]

“Knew it.”

“No I didn’t...”

“You did, though?”

“Absolutely not. On what basis are you making such statements?”

His words sped up—bull’s-eye.

“He gave Scarlet a song.”

Now he was scared to think how monstrous a track this one would be.

His friend’s personality might be bad, but when it came to composing, he had a genius no one could touch.

Even back as rookies, watching him arrange for a joint stage had scared him stiff.

“This baseless claim that Spaceship Wooju gave them a song...”

“It’s not Spaceship Wooju. It’s one of your other personas.”

“...”

“You think I fall for it like before? Heh heh heh. The days I got duped into buying you ice cream are over.”

Get conned by a swindler enough times and the tricks turn transparent.

Wooju stared at him and said,

“...Keep it secret for now.”

Hanjo smiled.

“Then buy me ice cream.”

“Yes.”

“Bungeo Ssamanko.”

“Yes.”

“That alone won’t cut it. Let’s hit the in-house cafe and get a latte with whipped cream twice over...”

“...Yes.”

Teasing his friend like that, Hanjo suddenly remembered something.

“But this is your first girl-group song, right?”

“Yeah. First time.”

His friend claimed he was super nervous. Hanjo didn’t buy it.

“How good is it this time.”

“I just think it sounds good to me.”

“...We’re doomed.”

Every time he dropped a new track, that monster reshaped boy-group trends.

And now the monster had stepped onto the girl-group field. Hanjo swallowed.

Then he glanced off toward the waiting room where senior group La Rose was.

“This won’t be easy.”

Scarlet were already the strongest favorites, and now they had the monster’s song. This game was going to be brutal.

“Still, we prepared well too.”

DNS Media, like every other company, had poured its heart into this.

His friend brought it up.

“But competition’s going to be fierce. Your company commissioned a song months ago and picked it up, right?”

“Huh?”

“What’s wrong?”

“How do you know that?”

“The person who made it just joined our company.”

He added that of course the person didn’t say a word about the song because of confidentiality, but Hanjo blinked.

“How did they bring him in.”

He’d heard that producer was insanely hard to book; how did Lemon Entertainment get him.

“Curious? Want to know how?”

“Yeah.”

“Because it’s you, I’ll tell you specially.”

Hanjo gulped and nodded.

“So here’s the thing.”

“Mm...”

“Mid-August. If you watch NewBlack’s comeback reality on K-net, Sun Wooju’s Rest Diary, you’ll find out!”

“...”

Shouldn’t have become friends.

“See you later~”

“Yeah, see you later.”

After waving to Hanjo, he headed for Scarlet’s waiting room.

Knock, knock.

“Yeees~!”

Nayoon’s signature lively voice came through.

He eased the door open, and a burst of cheers exploded inside.

“Deokchun!”

“It’s Deokchun oppa!”

Scarlet’s members cheered his stage name.

Makeup artists and hair designers were in the middle of final touch-ups. Dodging the wall of outlets and cords for flat irons and dryers, he took a seat on the sofa.

He traded greetings with Minsu, who’d arrived ahead.

“Brother, you’re here!”

He smiled at Daisy, who had her hands together as she bowed.

“Don’t do what you don’t do. Just sit.”

“Still, you’re our producer now, so I’m being respectful. ...What’s that in your hand?”

“I brought snacks.”

“Waaaah!”

He handed the bagged treats to Chapssaltteok, who bared her teeth like a shark.

“Wow! Girls! Look! Cookies with our faces on them!”

“Biju baked them himself.”

“Why do I look so ugly, though. Oppa? My twin tails look like horns on a demon.”

“Jiho drew yours.”

He told Nayoon, who vowed to erase Wang Jiho from the earth, to hang in there.

Next, to the curious foursome, he passed over a thermos.

“Ri Hyuk prepared this tea. Says it calms the nerves.”

“Oooh.”

[gulp gulp]

“But I personally wouldn’t drink it. If you do, all worldly desires vanish. You’ll wonder why you’re performing.”

“...Cough!”

“What’s in it is still a secret.”

Watching them cough, he smiled and then handed over what Junhyun had prepared.

“Junhyun wrote talismans.”

“Wooooow!”

He gave them leaves inscribed, like a charm, with keywords such as “misfortune, worry, anxiety.”

A reverse-effect DIY charm.

He nodded when the Scarlet members thanked him and asked him to pass along their thanks.

Then they all gathered around the sofa.

“How do we look today?”

“Awesome.”

“Not compliments—objectively, with a producer’s eye.”

Leader Ara spoke with intensity in her eyes.

“Hmm...”

It looked like exactly the costumes Scarlet had wanted.

Like goddesses out of Greek myth had descended to the human world as pop stars.

The eyeliner emphasized a beauty apart from the everyday human world.

Gem-sparkling red dresses and glossy black jackets with a pop-star vibe gleamed gorgeously.

He especially admired Lina, who had a lightly tinted pair of stage glasses perched on her nose.

“Massive.”

Honestly, fashion wasn’t really his thing.

But—

“It matches the song perfectly.”

“Right?”

The Scarlet members beamed.

They giggled, saying the stage prep felt on point, and he smiled too.

They were about to head to rehearsal when he gave a word of encouragement.

“Scarlet, please stand by!”

“Yes!”

At the floor director’s call, Scarlet shivered, shoulders up.

The Spirit’s final showdown.

Before the final rehearsal, the four bounced in place or stretched their legs long.

“Whew.”

He asked Lina, who was stretching against the wall with a tense face,

“Really nervous?”

“Yeah.”

Lina extended her neck and said evenly,

“If we don’t take first with this, it’s going to be humiliating...”

“How is that humiliating.”

The Scarlet members shook their heads.

“It is humiliating.”

“This is a song where only the perfect stage breaks even. If we still don’t win with it, we have to remove ‘skilled’ from ‘skilled girl group.’”

“If we don’t make this land, people will say we blew up just because we’re pretty. Unnie.”

“That wouldn’t be the worst...”

They tempted themselves with that and then cracked up, chattering again, and he chuckled quietly.

As composer-producer, he was mulling how to cheer them on—what pointers to give for the stage.

But watching these six-year veterans manage their own heads just fine, he relaxed.

Also—

Maybe because they were well-liked, other girl groups kept opening the door to toss in a word.

“Hey, Reds! Let’s go!”

“Yeah~!”

“We’re gonna beat you anyway~”

“Booo! Close the door right! The AC’s leaking out!”

DNS Media’s girl group La Rose, famously close with Scarlet from way back, poked in with a “yeah~” as they went by.

“Sunbaenim, fighting~!”

“Fighting~”

NYX and other groups came by to say hi.

He’d wondered how girl groups hang out together; looked exactly like boy groups.

And among them was a surprise face.

“Hello, unnies.”

It was Girl’s On Top’s maknae, Gil Chaegyeong—debuted in 2011, seventh-year seniors.

The member known to be Jiho’s nemesis.

Maybe she’d just come down from her final stage rehearsal; she wore a hip high-fashion look.

“Huh...?”

While he was offering an easygoing greeting, he made eye contact with Gil Chaegyeong.

He’d expected the “What are you looking at” glare, but she dipped her head with a slightly startled face.

“Hello, oppa.”

“Yes, hello.”

He remembered her as having a very prickly personality, but contrary to expectation, he felt a gentle vibe and was a bit taken aback.

Ara patted her and smiled as Gil Chaegyeong offered snacks to the Scarlet members as a pep gesture.

He was watching the Girl’s On Top maknae look moved, like she’d dropped by a warm bakery, when—

“See you later.”

“Okay, unnies, have a great stage.”

He blinked at the way she calmly closed the door behind her.

Same person, but something felt different.

And he knew Scarlet and Girl’s On Top had been like rivals since debut. The fanbase skirmishes had been pretty intense too.

“You got close?”

“Yeah. We got friendly shooting the survival. When Girl’s On Top’s manager ghosted, we helped them out.”

“Oh...”

He’d heard Girl’s On Top’s agency had gone under.

The Chinese-backed Hua Entertainment had collapsed, and they’d set up their own company.

Ara smiled.

“They’re not who they were back then, and we aren’t either. And you know how it is—when boy groups and girl groups hang out, we end up vibing. Same thoughts, same worries.”

“True.”

“Honestly, we ended up at the same barbecue place and shared a table. That did it.”

At Nayoon’s whisper, he laughed, “Ah.”

While the seniors stretched and got ready to head out, main vocal Bom held out her hand like a mic to him.

“Okay, we’re going live soon, so this’ll be the last time we see you. Producer, say a few words!”

“A few words!”

He pulled up the lines he’d prepared as a producer.

From recording to practice, he’d planned to offer a few tips like “On stage, do it like this” to ease their pressure and burden.

But somehow it felt like that wasn’t necessary.

These people were pros.

“You did your best. Go have fun.”

“...”

The Scarlet members watched him in silence for a beat.

Then Ara kindly squeezed his shoulder.

“Wooju.”

“Yes, noona.”

“Save the sentimental speeches that don’t help and give real advice.”

“Yes...”

While staff and Scarlet burst out laughing, he pulled out his phone and read the notes of last-minute reminders he’d prepared.

TBC Ilsan station.

Studio 6.

Outside the building, idol fans were lining up to enter.

“Starting Scarlet’s final rehearsal.”

As Scarlet’s new song “Not Fine” boomed out, the members took the stage and launched into a dazzling routine.

Their arms and legs moved so fast and dynamically it felt like you could see afterimages.

“They’re good.”

“Seriously good.”

The camera directors nodded.

They were every bit the group famed for performance. Those crisp, sweeping lines always punched the chest wide open.

“Their dancing really is different.”

Like in workouts where you brute-force a move that shouldn’t be possible, their choreography had that feel.

They were so strong they could nail moves other girl groups couldn’t.

Because of that, some criticized them for lacking femininity sometimes, he’d heard, but anyone who saw them live just gaped.

“Man, they’re good.”

“When Scarlet hits the stage, it’s like they get possessed. They’re totally different people.”

“What do kids call that these days. Like a split-personality boss.”

“Contrast charm.”

Staff, engrossed in the stage, marveled.

“But the song is so good.”

“The song is really...”

The directing team’s faces were bright.

They already felt viewers’ reactions would be huge.

From the very intro, it had that “it’s over” punch. The opening and early intro seized you, hard.

“Thank you!”

Even coming down from rehearsal, the song kept ringing in their ears.

And—

“Wow...”

Same for the managers with their ears to the door of Studio 6.

Road managers sent by each company.

They’d come to snoop Scarlet’s song, and each one covered their mouth, murmuring “hit.”

“It’s so good.”

“Lemon really pulled an amazing track.”

“I hear they’ve been massively beefing up the producing team. Poaching famous composers and all.”

Instead of thinking “our group’s in trouble,” the first reaction was pure admiration for the quality.

One manager whispered.

“Rumor says a rookie composer wrote this.”

“A rookie?”

“Apparently it’s practically their first song. I don’t know the details, but that’s what staff are saying.”

“Wow. Someone like that, hidden away...”

While one manager muttered, the road managers started ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) sharing their private takes.

“I haven’t heard a song this explosive in a while. Think it goes top of the charts?”

“One hundred percent. One hundred.”

“It might be the first number one in a bit that’s not a Spaceship Wooju song.”

“Hope so. Honestly he’s taken up a lot of spots, hasn’t he?”

“Songs like this should rise. People say chart diversity’s been thinning lately...”

Then another manager nudged the speaker in the ribs.

“Over there.”

“Oh.”

A person with a Lemon Entertainment badge was standing nearby, quietly listening to them.

The rookie managers realized they should’ve watched their mouths and went, whoops.

Bow.

“...?”

The Lemon Entertainment road manager bowed, looking genuinely pleased, like he was grateful.

They awkwardly bowed back.

Their eyes met.

“What was that?”

“He looked really happy...”

“Does Scarlet’s team not like NewBlack?”

The talk had been that Spaceship Wooju hogged too much and it was time for change.

Watching the Lemon staffer turn away, shoulders bouncing in a little happy dance, everyone tilted their heads.