In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe

The contemporary art museum in New York.

Cars were pulling up one after another in front of it.

“Step out!”

Expensive shoes and high heels touched down softly on the red carpet, and cheers erupted whenever celebrities stepped out of their limousines.

“That’s Leslie Thompson. Leslie!”

“Erickson? Mr. Erickson! What brings you here!”

“Frank Chow? Why is he here?”

Reality stars from famous television shows, casino tycoons, a Broadway composer who had achieved EGOT, and more.

Photographers swallowed hard at the kind of lineup that would normally appear only at the biggest parties.

‘Th this is a gold mine!’

Celebrities who had asked Wooju at the AMA venue to add their names to the party list.

Business leaders who rushed over to call themselves “patrons of the arts” after hearing that world class artists such as Paul Laurent would attend.

Even legendary figures from the jazz world who had known Sun Myungju in the past.

“This way! Please look over here!”

Cameras flashed on both sides of the staircase leading up to the museum. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Flash! Flash!

Spouses holding the arms of their husbands in tuxedos carefully lifted their dresses as they climbed the steps.

Meanwhile the line of cars stopping in front of the museum never seemed to end.

“Please say a few words! What brings you here today!”

“Well, of course I came because I received an invitation. I do not have any special connection, but I once ran into NewBlack at the airport.”

“What do you mean why I came? I’m best friends with NewBlack.”

Starting with the handsome actor Alec West smiling brightly, and the strangely proud looking Hailey Blue.

Celebrities responded to interviews while looking at the cameras.

“I have a personal connection with Sun Myungju. If a party is being held to prepare his concert, how could I refuse?”

“A legendary figure returning after twenty years... I simply could not miss this event. My name will be written in a chapter of music history.”

“My spouse and I established a foundation that supports the arts long ago. Today’s event holds great meaning for me as well...”

After delivering their elegant remarks, the celebrities soon entered the party hall.

Watching security staff holding metal detectors check invitations, the reporters swallowed.

‘I’m jealous.’

Beyond those doors was a private area accessible only to invited journalists.

While the reporters standing outside with cameras wondered what was happening inside the museum.

“May I take your coat.”

“Thank you.”

Some of the guests entering the party handed their coats to staff and mouthed, “Wow.”

‘They prepared this incredibly well.’

A vast exhibition hall capable of accommodating hundreds of people.

Warm lighting.

Moonlight pouring through the glass windows.

Fresh oysters and canapes prepared by top chefs were arranged on tables, while servers carrying trays of various drinks walked around the room.

“There are really a lot of people.”

“I heard more people are still coming. They said this is only about half full... I do not see the Wilson couple yet.”

“This is a real party. I’m so excited.”

The hearts of the Americans attending the party beat faster.

Soft music.

Opportunities for small talk everywhere.

For those who had spent yesterday quietly at home with their families having a modest holiday gathering, a social party like this felt like a Christmas present.

‘Now this is a party!’

Soon exaggerated hugs and cheerful laughter filled the hall.

“Chairman, what brings you here?”

“The organizers asked me very sincerely to attend. Apparently they even sent my invitation first.”

“Ha ha, that’s impressive.”

The CEO of a famous big tech company known for his attention seeking personality smiled proudly while surrounded by flatterers.

Actors, business leaders, models, and musicians mixed together and expanded their networks in real time.

That was why celebrities who were not acquaintances of Sun Myungju had attended the party.

It began with polite small talk.

“Sun Myungju was a truly great musician...”

But the whispers soon shifted to other topics.

“I’ve been making investments in Silicon Valley lately.”

“I’m filming a new movie right now...”

“I’ve been running a business in the Middle East. There’s been some friction with the local government, but the potential is excellent.”

The exhibition hall filled with a buzzing sound like thousands of bees.

While guests gathered around artworks with refined expressions and sipped cocktails.

The topic among curious gossipers quickly shifted again.

“By the way...”

An elderly woman in a red dress sipped her cocktail while looking around.

“As far as I know, this party was organized by that musician’s son for Sun Myungju’s concert. But I do not see the son anywhere.”

“Hmm? You’re right.”

“Has anyone seen him?”

“I entered almost first, but I did not see him either. He was not there from the beginning.”

People around her began to wonder.

‘Why is the host not here?’

Naturally they had expected the host to greet guests and thank them for coming.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

The only guess was that perhaps there would be some sort of performance.

“Now that I think about it, there is a piano over there.”

A grand piano stood on the stage.

They assumed he would appear there, perform, and then greet everyone.

Then another question arose.

“Strange. Isn’t NewBlack a band that young people like these days?”

“Does he have talent in piano performance as well?”

But the musicians gathered here were among the very best.

‘A boy band member performing in front of them?’

A balding middle aged man sipped his cocktail with an unimpressed expression.

“I was expecting a performance from an outstanding pianist like Paul Laurent. To be honest, I’m not sure Wooju’s performance will satisfy me. Of course I acknowledge that he is the son of a great genius and today’s host, but...”

“To be honest, you’re right. It raises questions.”

“If they’re going to perform unpublished sheet music, they should have invited a great performer.”

“Well. As long as it’s enjoyable, isn’t that enough? Even if the technical perfection or artistic quality is lacking.”

Those who pursued elegant and refined parties smacked their lips.

‘I’m not expecting much.’

They roughly knew who NewBlack was.

If they did not know the name, they could not have conversations with their grandchildren or children who were still in school.

But there had always been a hot boy band in every era.

Before NewBlack there had been Ocean Five.

Before Ocean Five there had been OneShot.

Before OneShot there had been Melody Boys.

For the older generation, NewBlack was just another passing boy band.

What came to mind was the image of flashy good looks and screaming teenage girls.

They imagined a handsome young man with hair full of gel sitting at a piano and clumsily tapping out notes with an affected smile.

‘If they were going to do this, they should have arranged a performance from a pianist like Paul Laurent.’

Just as they were saying such things.

“I do not believe whether he plays well or poorly is something for you to concern yourselves with.”

The sudden voice made people turn.

A slightly hoarse and rough voice.

An elderly man frowned.

“Who...”

The people who were about to speak froze with their mouths open.

‘Winston Ross!’

The African American standing before them was a legendary figure in the jazz world.

Winston Ross snorted.

“I have been listening to your conversation for a while. It is quite a spectacle. Of course how someone performs and their technical skill is important. But do you even know what art is?”

He spoke in his rough voice and pointed to a sculpture nearby that looked like a trash can.

“What matters in art is meaning. In that sense, the fact that this party is being held in a place dedicated to contemporary art carries the same spirit. Art values the meaning contained within it.”

“......”

“So if he has decided to perform, that alone has meaning. Even if the greatest performer in the world played those notes, could it carry as much meaning as the son playing them clumsily himself?”

When the old man finished speaking, those gathered around him cleared their throats awkwardly and dispersed as if nothing had happened.

‘Pathetic people.’

Winston Ross clicked his tongue.

Music existed simply to be enjoyed.

Every time he saw wealthy people using it as a tool to display their refinement, it made his stomach churn.

“Tsk.”

Just as Winston Ross clicked his tongue.

Applause sounded, and a handsome brown haired man wearing a bow tie and tuxedo appeared.

“That was quite a speech, Winston.”

“What speech.”

Paul Laurent approached him with a gentle smile.

“Why are you alone again? There are so many people here.”

“Whenever I say anything, people scatter.”

“That is because you speak too harshly. Of course people leave when you say things like that.”

“Hmph.”

The old man, once the greatest saxophonist with a famously stubborn personality, merely twisted his lips.

Paul Laurent said soothingly,

“But you spoke well. It was uncomfortable to hear.”

“I only said what needed to be said.”

Looking at the grumbling old man, the younger musician smiled quietly.

Perhaps embarrassed that he had lost his temper, Winston Ross cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“So how is he?”

“Wooju?”

“Yes. Does he resemble him a lot?”

Though he tried to appear indifferent, Winston Ross’s eyes were filled with curiosity.

‘Myungju’s son.’

Jazz had once enjoyed its golden age but had slowly declined.

Though it continued in other forms and through fusion with other genres, the jazz he had known had begun fading.

Sun Myungju had been the last spark.

When he appeared like a comet in the late 1980s, he had revived jazz once more.

The last genius of the twentieth century.

Ironically, the successor Winston Ross, once called the King of Jazz, had been searching for was not from Harlem or New Orleans, but a genius born in Korea.

‘If only he had lived a little longer...’

With that lingering regret, the sudden appearance of his son along with unpublished sheet music naturally attracted attention.

Paul Laurent interrupted his thoughts.

“Well. I’m not sure how to answer whether he resembles him... in some ways he does, and in some ways he doesn’t.”

“In what way exactly?”

“If Professor Sun Myungju was a brilliantly shining sun, then this young man might be someone who knows how to create a solar system. I’m not sure if that metaphor is appropriate... but in terms of composition, he might even surpass his father.”

“I see.”

“But there is one thing he definitely inherited from his father. Extraordinary star power. He instinctively knows how to capture the public’s attention.”

Like father, like son.

Winston Ross nodded.

‘That makes sense.’

The impression he had felt when he first saw Sun Myungju long ago was exactly like his surname.

Sun.

A brilliantly shining sun.

Someone who naturally drew everyone’s gaze without doing anything.

As Winston Ross remembered that light.

Bzzzz—

“Hm?”

The lights began dimming and a screen slowly descended over the stage.

Paul Laurent smiled.

“He is about to appear.”

Hundreds of attendees in the hall turned their attention toward one place.

It was time for the star of the evening to appear.

“Whew.”

My legs trembled.

Ri Hyuk slapped my back.

“Do not be scared. Stand straight.”

“Okay...”

“We performed in front of sixty thousand people at Sangam Stadium. You are not going to freeze in front of less than a thousand people, right?”

“Aaah... I’m still nervous.”

Hearing the murmuring voices outside made my heart tighten.

Biju held my shoulder and whispered.

“Do not be nervous, hyung. Just think of it as nothing special.”

“Alright.”

A performance where I personally play my father’s unpublished sheet music.

Well.

How special could it possibly—

“No matter how I think about it, this is incredibly special...!”

As I held my head and muttered, the youngest sighed.

“Seriously, the Souffle need to see this on the behind the scenes camera. Then they would know what you are really like.”

“Be quiet.”

“Hmm? Should I really be quiet?”

“No. Keep talking. It helps me relax.”

I gestured.

“Just say anything. Hurry.”

“Once upon a time there lived Heungbu and Nolbu. One day a magpie appeared carrying a bomb...”

I stretched while listening to the youngest’s nonsense fairy tale performance like ASMR.

Junhyun laughed.

“Just go out there and enjoy it. Didn’t the sheet music your father wrote say to play it joyfully?”

“Yeah.”

“Instead of thinking about the audience out there, imagine you are playing your father’s music just for us.”

After giving his mature advice, Junhyun handed me a piece of gum.

While chewing it slowly behind the curtain, a staff member gestured that it was almost time.

I wrapped the gum in paper and shoved it into my pocket.

“Go out there and start playing first, hyung.”

Biju adjusted my bow tie and smiled.

“We will join you soon.”

“See you in a bit.”

Following Junhyun’s advice, I imagined a different stage.

Not the donors who had come to support my father’s performance.

But the same scene as when we practiced.

Just me and the members around the piano.

Joyfully.

Energetically.

“Whew.”

While I took a deep breath, my father’s face appeared on the large screen installed on stage.

It was time to enter.

Flash.

A man’s face appeared on the giant screen, and gasps spread through the audience.

“Wow.”

Because of the man’s breathtaking beauty on the screen.

Clear eyes that seemed to contain stars.

A sharply defined jawline.

Glasses resting on a tall nose that made him look both sensitive and unmistakably artistic.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

A video recorded twenty years ago began playing, and Sun Myungju’s old acquaintances stared at him with dazed eyes.

‘It really is Sun Myungju.’

His distinctive 1990s style of English filled their ears.

“You might think I look somewhat tired and irritable in this video. That may be natural. I was scolded by my wife recently while planning a trip.”

The playful joke made the audience laugh.

“My wife says my excessively meticulous personality sometimes makes her angry. But surely one must plan very carefully what to do and what to eat while traveling.”

Sun Myungju continued speaking before changing the subject.

“But perhaps that meticulous nature of mine shines in situations like this. Otherwise who would record a video to be used at a party twenty years in the future?”

He smiled.

“So how many people are there right now? One?”

The audience laughed.

“I hear laughter. Five?”

Another ripple of laughter followed.

There were at least several hundred people present.

“I wonder how many of my friends came. My friends whose faces must now be full of wrinkles. And my children who will be watching this video someday. To them I would like to say thank you for coming to find me.”

He smiled gently.

“It has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

To his friends it sounded like, “How have you been, my friend?”

To the children he had rescued, it sounded like, “Did you grow up safely?”

Old friends watched the smiling man on the screen with moist eyes.

“And if there happen to be extremely wealthy people among the attendees, I would like to thank them in advance as well. You are the true patrons of the arts and treasures of humanity.”

The wealthy attendees laughed at his charming showmanship.

Looking around as if scanning the camera’s surroundings, Sun Myungju continued.

“Well. I cannot possibly know how large this party will be. It may be a few people. Perhaps a hundred if it is big. But I sincerely thank every distinguished guest who came today.”

The artist looked directly at them.

“Because you are the ones who will make my final performance possible.”

He was a master of public relations, praising the attendees and filling them with pride.

“And... if it is not too much trouble, I would appreciate it if you helped my son.”

His expression looked more like a father than a musician.

“If this video has reached you, it means my son must have worked incredibly hard. To be honest, I am not even sure this video will be played at all... but if he managed to make that happen, that alone would be amazing.”

A father from twenty years ago who did not know how his son would grow up.

“My son is probably just an ordinary college student right now.”

Though he said it seriously, the attendees burst into laughter.

Because the reason this entire event had grown so large was precisely because of that son.

Even if a fundraising party had been held, it would never have grown to this scale.

Twenty years later, a genius returns for his final performance.

A concert prepared by a genius two decades ago.

The father of NewBlack’s leader and a legendary genius.

The impact of the video posted by an account with tens of millions of subscribers had been enormous.

As soon as the video was uploaded, the Souffle fandom pushed hashtags supporting the concert into worldwide trends.

Because of that, mainstream media had widely reported Sun Myungju’s story.

‘Well.’

The attendees smiled softly.

Who could have imagined that twenty years later their son would become a global star?

Sun Myungju smiled awkwardly.

“With that in mind, I would like to properly introduce the person who made today’s party possible. My son.”

Originally, the video had probably been intended for a small gathering where someone would say, “Hello, I’m Sun Wooju.”

But now it felt more like an introduction to tonight’s performance.

“Allow me to introduce him.”

The father smiled proudly.

“My pride and my only son, Sun Wooju.”

The video stopped.

At the same time, the spotlight illuminated a single point.

The grand piano at the center of the stage.

As people stepped aside like waves parting, a handsome young man walked toward the piano.

“Wooooow...”

Even with simple makeup, his skin seemed to glow with a transparent radiance.

The young man smiled brightly at the applauding audience and reached the grand piano.

Those watching with cocktails in their hands saw the pop star quietly sit down at the bench.

In the silence where even the sound of someone swallowing could be heard.

Softly—

The host’s fingers rose onto the keys.

And at last, the unpublished sheet music began to be played.