In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

Hanjo swallowed hard.

'I think I’m screwed....'

On the surface, there was no major change.

A bright smile rested on that annoyingly handsome face. It looked like the usual Sun Wooju.

But from the perspective of a close friend who knew him well, that was the expression of someone trembling with suppressed fury.

Starting with the eyes—there were practically flames in them....

"Hey."

Hanjo smiled gently and spoke.

What came back was the coldest response possible.

"What. Why. What."

"...."

You’re completely sulking.

"I’m getting mocked nationwide for being bad at games, and my so-called friend goes on broadcast and rubs salt in the wound by saying he’s going to the finals."

"Th-that was just for broadcast...."

"That wasn’t a broadcast smile. I can tell just by looking at your expression."

Sun Wooju perfectly mimicked his face.

"Here. This is your genuine expression."

"...."

After copying Hanjo’s neat smile, Wooju put on a slightly fake-looking grin.

"And this is your broadcast expression. Should we compare them? Shall we compare them—?"

"...."

Hanjo couldn’t say a word while watching Wooju tremble.

Because it was true.

"Well...."

After pondering how to explain himself, Hanjo nodded obediently.

With a pitiful smile.

"I’m sorry."

"You’re sorry?"

"I sincerely apologize. Truly."

Wooju, glaring with narrowed eyes, clicked his tongue.

"Forget it. It’s in the past anyway."

'Now he’s pretending to be cool. He was shaking with rage earlier....'

"Wait. What was that? It looked like you just had a very disrespectful thought."

"Oh no, not at all."

'What a demon-like guy.'

Fortunately, Sun Wooju quickly returned to his usual self.

Hanjo stepped back and approached Jiho.

"What’s wrong with him?"

"Wooju hyung got teased a lot about being bad at games."

"Hm?"

Hanjo frowned.

"He gets teased all the time."

"This time his grandmother even called and told him he’s bad at games. That’s why he exploded."

"Ah...."

If Grandma was involved, that made sense.

As he nodded in understanding, the maknae whispered like a schemer,

"But more than that, I think it’s because you’re better at games than him."

"If you’re worse than him, that’s not even human, right?"

"True. Wooju hyung is hopeless."

At that, Sun Wooju snapped his head around.

"You were talking trash about me, weren’t you?"

"No."

"Nooo? A guilty conscience makes ghosts feel tingly."

The two denied it flatly.

Wooju pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at them, signaling he was watching.

Hanjo smiled.

'Looks like he forgot about earlier.'

It seemed he had forgotten saying, "Let’s do great in recording today~ really great!" while trembling with rage.

Hanjo nodded confidently.

'Recording should be smooth today.'

But the moment they opened Street Boys’ practice room door—

Hanjo realized he had overlooked something.

"Oh! It’s the captain!"

"The Mint Choco Captain who made an impact at the Game Olympics!"

'Damn it.'

He had forgotten how tactless his younger members were.

The moment they spotted Sun Wooju, they sprang up like hyenas.

Hanjo and Giwon desperately shook their heads.

'Stop! You idiots!'

'Not today. Not today.'

Maybe his telepathy worked.

Persimmon Tree, who had jumped up like a mischievous child, winked at them.

'Got it!'

Then he pointed at Sun Wooju.

"Hahaha! Game noob! Game noob!"

"Hahahahaha!"

"Wow! The god of games has arrived!"

Watching them bounce around like fools, Hanjo pressed his hand to his temple.

Then he turned toward Sun Wooju, who stood smiling gently in place.

Above the smiling lips—

In those clear eyes—

'The flames again....'

It felt like invisible fire was blazing fiercely.

He was smiling brighter than ever.

The NewBlack members quietly began stepping back from his side.

Persimmon Tree shouted,

"The captain who’s worse at games than Hanjo hyung!"

"Hahahaha!"

"Wow! I’m in awe!"

Hanjo and Giwon covered their faces with both hands.

'We’re dead.'

'That’s not even a hyung. He’s firewood.'

Recording did not look easy today.

I reached out from my seat in the recording booth.

"Water...."

As I looked around for a bottle, chaos erupted from the sofa area.

"Water! He needs water!"

"Water! Sun Wooju is asking for water—!"

Nine Street Boys members leaped up and offered me nine bottles at once.

I smiled.

"You really don’t have to...."

"No."

Rex pounded his chest.

"Today we are your loyal servants, Captain. We are your ser-vents."

"That’s our role...."

Biju looked tense, worried their job was being stolen.

I laughed and turned back to Street Boys.

Shining eyes.

The moment our gazes met, they beamed as if advertising, We’re good boys.

I glanced at Hanjo, who was wearing an equally artificial smile.

"What exactly did you tell them...?"

"Just the truth."

Suddenly Sbo members were acting extremely polite.

Maybe it was because they were so burly for idols.

Combined with hip-hop fashion, it felt like a crime syndicate greeting a boss.

"Please don’t act like that. Be comfortable."

"Yes!"

I spun my chair and examined the lyric sheet.

[My Friend]

Composer: Wooseon

Lyricist: Hanjo, LB...

My name under composition, Hanjo and the rap line under lyrics.

My Friend.

A song I composed, rearranged by our producing team to fit Street Boys’ color.

The theme was members who had bickered since trainee days sending a message to one another.

Track five on Sbo’s new album.

I skimmed the lyrics and planned the recording approach, then nodded to the DNS Media engineer.

"Let’s begin."

"Yes."

While the engineer adjusted settings, I stretched and took a deep breath.

This project was a valuable opportunity.

I had written OSTs, solo tracks, girl group songs, ballads for collaborations.

But this was my first time writing for another boy group.

Especially music with strong hip-hop and rock colors.

It was also a chance to grow musically. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Just as you can’t stay healthy eating only meat, music needs diverse study.

And—

We needed to show a gesture to other agencies.

Seokhwan hyung’s words echoed.

Recording with Street Boys was also a diplomatic gesture.

Like when we distributed songs from the previous song camp.

A signal that we wanted to get along with other agencies.

Some might ask why that was necessary.

But because of our excessive success, there were problems.

Too much chart domination. Agencies say certain artists and fandoms are too powerful.

The gist was simple.

NewBlack takes everything? We report you.

Anonymous agencies claimed our songs succeeded only because of Souffle.

That whenever a song dropped, Souffle pushed it, creating buzz that filled the charts with NewBlack-related songs.

Honestly, it sounded ridiculous.

Fame helps, sure.

But even famous people can’t keep bad songs on charts long.

The problem was that this argument was gaining traction.

Small agencies demanding chart reform.

Journalists crying for diversity.

Stories of rookie singers buried by overlapping release dates.

They rarely mentioned us directly.

But the attacks were coming from all directions.

When I asked where it was coming from—

"They’re all in it together."

Agencies annoyed we held gold, silver, bronze.

Idol fans watching with narrowed eyes.

A handful of passionate antis.

Plus journalists who held grudges.

It was still simmering under the surface.

But there were signs it could ignite.

So the best solution was to prevent it from becoming an issue at all.

Even if we’d likely win public support, nothing was guaranteed.

NewBlack chart monopoly... huh, maybe that’s true?

If that reaction spread, it could turn against us.

So—

Let’s increase allies first.

It sounded funny.

But if people glare because you brought delicious lunch alone—

You share sausage with a fork.

Those who eat with you become your side.

That was probably why our company was winking at DNS Media.

The CEO likely visited for that reason too.

Mutual benefit.

I manage my friends’ songs.

Companies build goodwill.

"Composer?"

I looked up.

Hanjo stood holding the lyric sheet.

"May I go in?"

"Yes, go ahead."

He looked serious, so I waved lightly.

A laugh slipped out.

What composer has to distribute songs to avoid chart domination accusations?

Ridiculous.

Yet—

It made sense.

Fourteen songs long-charting in Mango 100.

Fourteen percent.

One in seven songs related to us.

That number invited criticism.

I pressed the talkback button.

"Hanjo."

"Yes."

"Ready?"

"Yes. Ready."

I smiled.

If we’re doing this—

We’re doing the best recording possible.

"Ugh...."

IP staggered out of the booth.

Voice just on the verge of cracking.

Perfect timing to stop.

He collapsed on the sofa.

"This is insane."

They had expected a light recording.

It °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° was brutal.

Ceiling spinning.

Nausea.

Sweat.

Yet—

Four hours had passed.

I had barely drunk water.

Still upright. Still focused.

The engineers had used the restroom multiple times.

I was still directing.

"Giwon."

"Yes."

"Watch the pronunciation. Tone is good. Don’t swallow the ‘n.’ Clearly."

"Yes."

"Good. That’s why you’re main vocal."

"Thank you."

"But adjust entry timing. Faster. From My friend again."

"Yes."

I repeated until perfect.

When asked what the standard was—

"Until the color comes out pretty."

They understood later.

Every final take made them nod.

And—

"Giwon."

"Yes."

"That was perfect."

"Really?"

"It’s good. Too good. It won’t match the title. You understand?"

"Yes...."

"Watch the bending."

They were impressed.

I hadn’t heard the title.

But I understood the vibe.

Clothes bad. Games bad. Slightly petty personality.

But musically—

Genius wasn’t wasted praise.

"Amazing."

"A bit tough... but amazing."

They even thought—

We want Wooseon without Sun Wooju.

Then they noticed—

Hanjo had passed out sitting up.

Dead.

Glorious death.

LB leaned toward Ri Hyuk.

"Is recording always this hard?"

"Go away."

Ri Hyuk fell off the sofa pushing him.

"What’s hard about that?"

"We feel like throwing up."

The maknae whispered.

"We’ve thrown up before."

"Oh."

"Junhyun hyung sometimes dry-heaves too."

They realized—

Even the underlings weren’t normal.

We’d revolt under that leader.

They didn’t.

Monster.

We can’t fall behind.

We’ll overtake when NewBlack rests.

Then—

Someone asked.

"Aren’t you busy? Why did you all come?"

The maknae answered.

"Our company suspended our access cards and told us to rest."

"...."

"No place to go."

The turtles’ hearts sank.

The rabbit wasn’t resting.

It was being forced.

Nation’s idol.

You guys do it.

Not us.

Just then—

Biju smiled brightly.

"Done."

He held up a small spinning wheel.

LB asked,

"What are you doing?"

"We made a punishment wheel. Wooju hyung joked that anyone who goes over recording time gets punished."

"Right...?"

"Turning jokes into reality is our job."

"No. It’s not."

Biju revealed the wheel.

"Tada."

Various punishments.

One read: Post a two-shot selfie with Sun Wooju on SNS.

The Sbo members swallowed.

'We must not land on that.'