In This Life, The Greatest Star In The Universe-Chapter 397

The camera captured PD Na Sang-yoon’s face in a close-up.

“Wow. You look so pitiful right now.”

“Yes…”

The sight of the composer heaving a deep sigh made the cast and me giggle.

“PD, I’m really sorry. Oh my…”

“No, it’s okay…”

Even the bitter PD Na Sang-yoon couldn’t help but smile eventually.

He seemed relieved, as if he had just avoided the hassle of editing, something he was already too concerned about.

Of course, the entertainers wouldn’t miss such a moment.

“It’s time for you to go. Your work is done.”

“What? Am I leaving?”

“You’re busy, after all. Thank you for your hard work!”

“…Am I really going just like this? It feels like I only clicked a mouse.”

While we clapped and laughed, PD Na Sang-yoon looked at the camera in confusion.

“No, I told my mom I’d be on MiPro!”

The cast, who had been urging him to leave quickly, burst into satisfied laughter.

The model citizen pointed at the camera.

“Then, why don’t you shoot a video letter before you go?”

“That way? Oh, yes… Mom, as you can see, your son is doing well in Seoul.”

After a 30-second video letter, the composer exited forlornly.

The staff, too, laughed for a long while at his reluctant waving goodbye.

“He left with just a click of the mouse.”

“Wow, even the employees here are fun.”

“Right?”

We said, beaming with pride.

“We’re just average.”

“That’s definitely not true.”

The cast replied firmly.

As the laughter left behind by the composer began to dissipate, we all applauded and celebrated.

“Our Universe Teacher has spontaneously created our fan song!”

“Let’s listen to it once more in celebration, shall we?”

As the song played again, the cast exclaimed in awe.

Jiho chuckled.

“How is it? The chorus I made for this song.”

“It’s good. I like it.”

The praise was immediate.

“I may not know much about composing, but I can definitely feel Mr. Producer’s touch.”

“Wow. Our melody has been incorporated like this.”

“He writes songs so well. If I had met a composer like him, my album wouldn’t have flopped.”

Singer Ahn Jae-hee’s self-deprecating joke elicited a small laugh.

The members were genuinely surprised to see the short melody they had created transformed in such a way.

I clapped my hands to draw their attention.

“We still have a long way to go before the song is complete. Let’s stop here and start with the homework for our seniors.”

“Lyrics?”

“That’s right!”

Turning my head, I saw Rihyuk diligently writing something on an A4 paper.

He then handed the paper to the MiPro cast.

“Wow, your handwriting is really beautiful.”

“It looks even prettier on paper. I thought it was printed.”

Our child’s ears and shoulders puffed up with pride at the compliment that his handwriting could be sold as a font.

We all agreed.

It was a recurring debate among us: whether it was ‘Thin Pirarucu’ or ‘Clear Neua’ font.

“What are these cute little circles for, Teacher Rihyuk?”

“They’re the syllable count you need to fill.”

Rihyuk explained, pointing at the paper divided into a 3/3/4 pattern of circles.

“For example, if you fill in these circles, it would go like, ‘I am.’”

“A potato.”

“I love it. Just write like this.”

I said with a smile, nodding at them.

“Mr. Producer’s show is one that many people enjoy watching. We have a lot of fans.”

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

“Everyone knows that~”

“Just think of it as a letter from the heart to those devoted viewers.”

The cast smirked, seemingly struck by an idea.

“Like the daily messages you send us, Teacher Rihyuk?”

“Exactly that!”

The letter I received comes to mind. Sometimes… tears… they come…

“Like the winter-enduring pampas grass~”

It was us and the cast, turning poetic and lyrical content into something charmingly rustic.

Thump.

As Ri-hyeok kicked off the ground and spun his chair to hide, the watching writers chuckled, finding it adorable.

“That was a good rapport.”

“You did so well! High five~”

Together we clinked and wrapped up the discussion about the fan song.

Now, it was time to broach the subject of our official debut.

“We’ve decided on the team name, right? A-ten.”

“That’s right. A~ten!”

“Usually, you practice the basics to improve your skills before discussing a debut…”

But this is a one-time project.

“Given the time constraints, we decided it’s best to quickly choose a song.”

The cast’s lack of dance skills was one of the reasons.

It’s more efficient to pick one song and practice it over and over.

The Mif members agreed.

“Definitely, that seems better. Since it’s practicing the same choreography over and over.”

“But shouldn’t we decide on the concept first?”

“Right. I heard idol groups usually set the concept first and then solicit songs.”

Everyone swallowed their worries with anxious faces.

“But the concept we can do…”

“Sharp choreography like the New Black teachers is out of the question from the start.”

“And something fresh and cool like Teen Spirit is tough too. The idol fans are all like nieces and nephews to us, and if we go ‘woo-woong’ and throw hand kisses at them, we’d deserve to be shackled.”

“How about a sexy concept? Isn’t that somewhat doable?”

The members, now lively with color, asked us.

“How about a sexy concept that plays on maturity?”

“Uhmm…”

“It seems the teachers don’t quite agree.”

I waved my hands in dismissal.

“It’s not that, but a sexy concept is really difficult. The audience has to go ‘wow!’ when they see the stage.”

“Right.”

“It requires a harmony of facial expressions, choreography, and visuals to achieve…”

It was hard to explain in words, so we decided to show them directly.

Our choreography cheat key stood up on its own.

“It’s our C-grade visual teacher!”

“C-grade! C-grade!”

As Visu embarrassedly laughed, everyone giggled.

“…?”

Visu slightly lifted his chin, and the air in the studio changed in an instant.

With half-closed eyes and an elegantly outstretched hand.

He drew a curve with a smooth wave, and everyone exclaimed in awe.

It was an easy move, but it exuded an aura that seemed hard to follow for anyone watching.

Visu laughed ‘hehe’ and everyone snapped out of their immersion, but the exclamations of ‘wow’ continued.

I asked them.

“This is the easiest… Can you do it? Sexy?”

“No…”

They all seemed to bow down as they spoke.

“We were wrong. We’ll just do as we’re told.”

“So, what concept do you think suits us, according to the New Black teachers?”

“We’ve thought of one.”

“Oh!”

Wasn’t the average age of the senior members 33.5?

“There’s a genre that can look even cooler because of the age range.”

And.

“While sharp choreography is good, there’s one that suits a bit more free-spirited dance.”

There was a concept that came to mind from the first time we saw it.

When discussing with the younger members and consulting with experts around us, the reaction was quite good.

We exclaimed with a smile.

“The genre we’ve chosen is none other than disco-style funk music!”

“Disco…?”

The Mif members tilted their heads in confusion.

“Isn’t disco old music? Like ‘bam bam bam’ stuff.”

“What exactly is disco-style funk?”

I said, “It feels something like this.”

Last year, I played them a song that was all the rage in America, along with others of a similar genre.

Songs that make you want to dance along with their thumping beats.

The cast of ‘MIF’ got it immediately, ‘Ah!’ they exclaimed, enjoying the relatively free-spirited choreography.

“This looks like something we can nail with practice.”

“Yes, it’s a bottomless pit once you dive deep, but… I think it’s a concept we can definitely pull off.”

That’s when ballad singer An Jae-hee asked, “Doesn’t it feel too pop? Isn’t it a bit far from the idol style?”

“Ah, these are American songs. There are idols who have released similar tracks.”

After hearing a few songs, everyone seemed to grasp the vibe.

Kim Eui-ji, who had been struggling to keep up, asked again, “So… we’re going for a super exciting concept? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, that’s great!”

Finally, their applause and smiles made me laugh.

Next to them, Jiho boasted with a grin, “In front of these people, I’m the music gold medalist…!” and I laughed again.

The members of A-ten said with satisfied faces, “We really like it.”

“I’m relieved. I was worried about how it would be received.”

“The song is crucial though… How about our dear teacher, who’s already decided on the concept, gives us a song too…?”

They looked at me expectantly, half-joking.

I replied with a smile, “As I said, I won’t participate unless it’s a fan song.”

“Absolutely not?”

“Not absolutely, but… yes.”

I wanted to, but the project felt a hundred times more daunting.

It was all because of ‘Nakhwa.’

If ‘Nakhwa’ does well and this song doesn’t, it’s a problem. If ‘Nakhwa’ doesn’t do well and this song does, it’s also a problem.

And if neither does well, that’s an even bigger issue.

No matter which way you go, noise is inevitable, so I desperately wanted to decline.

“Once we open up the song contest, all the renowned composers and hidden masters nationwide will show up.”

“Ah… that’s a shame.”

“There are many out there far better than me. Really.”

Considering MIF’s popularity, it was certain that a great song would emerge.

With that, we wrapped up the discussion on the concept.

I gave them a few more assignments and concluded the recording.

“Great work, everyone!”

“You all did really well. Tired, aren’t you?”

After the cameras were off, everyone expressed their gratitude for the hard work.

Next week, the recordings would be more sporadic, so we took our time saying our goodbyes.

That’s when I sought out someone in the corner.

“Excuse me, senior.”

“…Hmm?”

Hong Seok, wiping sweat off his tired face, turned to me.

I asked with a smile, “Can we talk for a moment?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Then, this way…”

We moved to our studio right away.

I handed a paper cup to the model, who sat on the sofa looking bewildered.

“Is maple tree water okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t usually drink during recordings or anything. I’m not picky… Huh? Maple tree water?”

“It’s from Jung-hyun’s father.”

“Ah…”

I watched him gulp down the water before speaking up.

“The dancing is quite tough, isn’t it?”

“A bit…?”

“I saw you practicing the choreography in the basement earlier, and it seemed like you were feeling a lot of pressure.”

He looked at me quietly and then smiled.

“It is a bit tough, yeah.”

Wasn’t this project his dream?

But it was the compulsive extent of his practice that worried me.

Hong Seok said slowly, “I’m naturally slow at learning things physically… I have to do it ten times to match what others can do in one.”

“Goodness…”

“Fascinating, isn’t it? But that’s just how my body works.”

It wasn’t meant to be a sigh of that sort, but the other person scratched the back of their head with an awkward smile.

Then they fiddled with a paper cup.

“This idol project, it’s something I wanted to do, so I started it.”

“Yes.”

“But it won’t do if I’m not good at it. I don’t have to be the best, but I can’t be a hindrance, right?”

I listened quietly to their story.

“Dance isn’t something you can improve overnight. That’s probably why I feel so frustrated.”

“I understand. We all have those moments.”

“Of course, the standards are different for you…”

I waved my hands in denial, but there was a slight gloom in their eyes, a look of being disheartened.

It reminded me of myself in the past.

That’s how I would be after the monthly evaluations at TJ.

Every time I heard the trainers’ assessments, I felt like I was just a speck of dust in the world.

Not that I ever let it get me down.

If I showed any sign of being disheartened or discouraged, it could lead to a decline in performance and eventually being let go.

“I think you’re doing really well,” I said.

“Really?”

“You practice so hard.”

They laughed at the response, “What’s so good about that?”

“Feelings are beyond our control. It’s natural to feel frustrated when you hit a slump or don’t see improvement.”

“…?”

“But you’re still practicing diligently. That’s what really counts!”

Emotions fade with time, but skills remain, I said, and they cracked a slight smile.

Then, with a slightly brighter expression, they put down the paper cup.

“Thanks for the comfort.”

They picked up their coat.

A member of Mif who was about to leave for more practice suddenly turned back and said, “Ah.”

“Can I ask you a few things?”

“About what?”

“I have some questions about dancing, and when I asked Bijoo, I couldn’t understand the explanation…”

“We sometimes struggle with it too.”

They pulled out their phone, smiling, and I answered each question listed in their notes.

As I explained in detail, their face lit up.

“Thanks. I’ll treat you to a meal later.”

“Will it be beef?”

“There’s no reason it can’t be.”

I smiled broadly and said to the person grabbing the door handle.

“Senior.”

“…?”

“I know the pressure of dancing can be overwhelming, but don’t worry too much.”

They looked at me as if asking what I meant, and I smiled.

There was something I wished a producer had told me during my trainee days at TJ, something that would never have been said in a place where only dance mattered.

“Even if you’re lacking a bit, the choreography can be compensated with other elements.”

“Really?”

“You sing well. And how the stage is set can make a big difference, depending on the producer.”

Dance isn’t everything when it comes to performing.

“I’ll ask the producers to create a fantastic stage for you. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

Hongseok grinned and thanked me.

“Thank you. I’m counting on you.”

We said goodbye, promising to see each other at the next recording, and as they left, their steps seemed lighter. I felt a slight lift in my spirits.

Watching them go, I moved on as well.

It was time to open the door to the underground practice room to rehearse the dance of Nakwha.

“Universe, I’m here!”

And at that moment.

“…?”

I froze in place.

It was disconcerting.

In a place that should have been filled only with my younger siblings, five uncles were also sitting there.

“Universe…”

“Here I am…?”

The immediate burst of laughter from them like a band of bandits gave me a headache.

Mr. Choo Giseok cackled away.

It wasn’t meant to be a sigh, but he scratched the back of his head awkwardly and chuckled.

Then he fiddled with the paper cup.

“This idol project, it was my idea to start it.”

“Yes.”

“But if I can’t do it, that’s not good. I don’t have to be the best, but I shouldn’t cause any harm.”

I listened quietly to his story.

“Dance isn’t something you can improve overnight. That’s probably why I feel so frustrated.”

“I understand. Everyone has those moments.”

“Of course, the standards are different for you…”

I waved my hands in denial, but his slightly gloomy eyes betrayed his deflated spirit.

It reminded me of myself in the past.

That’s how I felt after the monthly evaluations at TJ.

Every time I heard the trainers’ assessments, I felt like I was just a speck of dust in the world.

Not that I ever let it show.

If I got down or lost confidence, it would lead to a decline in performance and eventually getting cut. I knew that all too well.

“I think you’re doing really well,” I said.

“Do you?”

“You practice so hard.”

He laughed at my response, as if to say what does that have to do with being good.

“It’s natural to feel stuck sometimes, whether it’s a slump or not seeing improvement.”

“…?”

“But you’re still practicing diligently. That’s what really counts!”

He smiled slightly at my fundamental point that emotions fade with time, but skills remain.

Then, with a somewhat brighter expression, he put down the paper cup.

“Thanks for the comfort.”

He picked up his coat.

A member of Mipe, about to leave for more practice, paused and turned back.

“Can I ask you a few things?”

“About what?”

“I have some questions about dancing. When I asked Bizu, I couldn’t understand his explanations…”

“We sometimes struggle with that too.”

He took out his phone as I answered with a smile.

He must have had a lot of questions, as he scrolled through his notes app, and I answered each one.

As I explained in detail, his face lit up.

“Thanks. I’ll treat you to a meal later.”

“Will it be beef?”

“There’s no reason it can’t be.”

I laughed heartily and said to him as he reached for the door handle.

“Senior.”

“…?”

“Don’t worry too much about the pressure of dancing.”

He looked at me as if asking what I meant, and I smiled.

There was something I had always wanted to hear from a producer during my trainee days.

Something that would never be said at TJ, where dance was everything.

“Even if you’re lacking a bit, you can make up for it in other ways.”

“Really?”

“You sing well. And how the stage is set can make a big difference, depending on the producer.”

Dance isn’t everything when it comes to performing.

“I’ll ask the producers to make sure your stage is spectacular. Don’t worry too much.”

“Okay.”

Hongseok grinned and thanked me.

“Thanks. I’m counting on you.”

We said goodbye, promising to see each other at the next recording. As he walked away with a lighter step, I felt a slight lift in my spirits.

Watching him go, I moved on as well.

It was time to open the door to the underground practice room and resume practicing the dance for Nakwha.

“Universe, I’m here!”

And at that moment.

“…?”

I froze in place.

It was disconcerting.

In a place where only my younger siblings should have been, five uncles were also sitting there.

“Universe…”

“Here I am…?”

They burst into laughter like a band of bandits, giving me a headache.

Choo Giseok cackled away.

“Has the universe arrived?”

“Wow, isn’t our universe cute? Top-notch cuteness, absolutely.”

“So this is how you play when you’re together?”

I was teased by the jubilant uncles for nearly 10 minutes, almost like enduring all four verses of the national anthem.

When the playful banter finally ended, I asked the group sitting around the campfire in a large circle.

“What are you all doing here?”

“Oh, we were practicing and had some questions about the choreography…”

It seemed like everyone had meticulously noted down what wasn’t working and what needed more work in their notebooks.

Especially for the eldest brother, Kim Eui-ji, his notes were so dense it reminded me once again that he was a national representative.

Choo Ki-seok chuckled and said,

“Seeing Seok working so hard, we old folks thought we shouldn’t become a burden.”

“But then, he gets really stressed if we make it obvious that we’re helping. So we came here secretly.”

“That’s great, Woojoo. Since you’re here, why don’t you teach us some moves?”

I nodded with a smile at their words.

Though I was immediately teased with ‘Can you really do it?’ which left me feeling a bit sour.

For a moment, I felt like I understood why this ordinary variety show was called the nation’s favorite.

“So, can you teach us?”

“…”

“Hahaha!”

“Everyone, please stand up!”

I said with a gentle smile, like a soft rain.

“I’ll start by teaching you the stretching routine I devised from yoga poses.”

“Woojoo, there’s a fire in your eyes…”

Soon after, screams began to erupt from the practice room.

And that night.

As an apology for the afternoon’s Mif recording, I helped Producer Na Sang-yoon with his music composition.

“Are you submitting this for the competition?”

“Yes.”

“I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks. But first, I need your help…”

The song would be chosen by a vote among the Mif members, but it seemed my help was needed first as the one who had come up with the concept.

“What kind of song are you looking for exactly?”

“Something that has a disco feel but is trendy. Without the retro vibe that you usually get from disco.”

“Hmm, give me a moment.”

Producer Na Sang-yoon pondered for a while before moving his hands.

A somewhat jarring combination of notes filled the air.

“Like this?”

“No, something with a faster tempo.”

“How about this?”

“Too fast. Isn’t that just disco? The funky feel is totally lost.”

“Then show me an example.”

“Just a second.”

I placed my hands on the keyboard.

Inspired by the melody Producer Na Sang-yoon had created, I began crafting something new.

“What I mean is… it starts like this.”

“Okay.”

“And then it goes like this.”

As I played with my right hand, I tapped the body of the keyboard with my left to mimic the drum sounds.

I nodded at Producer Na Sang-yoon, who seemed intrigued.

“Then you layer it like this.”

“Okay.”

“And then…”

To add a lively touch, I accented the melody every two beats.

At that moment, Producer Na Sang-yoon raised his hand to stop the playing.

“Woojoo.”

“Yes?”

“This sounds like something you made. A song?”

“…What?”

When we played back the recording, there was a complete song.

“Oh…?”

“…”

“I can’t believe the songwriting went this smoothly. Why is this happening?”

I was genuinely flustered.

It had been a long time since a song had flowed out of me like this.