This Life’s Universal Superstar

Prologue

Whenever people see K-pop idols on TV or in magazines, promoting Korean pop culture worldwide, they might find themselves wondering, “How did they make it?” Experts often credit looks, vocal ability, dance skills, or personality on variety shows. Honestly, that only scratches the surface. Talent doesn’t always guarantee fame, though the more gifted one is, the better the chance of success.

So why am I saying all this? Because I just discovered I have a talent—a rare, extraordinary talent that no one else has.

Chapter 1

A Strange Power Awakens

“Excuse me?”

My mind went blank. I was standing in the top-floor office staring at the director, barely able to process his words.

“What did you just say?” I asked.

“It’s exactly as you heard.”

The director adjusted his glasses, giving me a troubled look. I stood there, my mouth hanging open.

“So… You’re telling me to leave the company?”

“No, not exactly. We’re just taking you off the debut lineup.”

“Why?”

I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

“Why am I being dropped?”

“Woojoo…”

“You told me only three weeks ago that I was in. You even said the group’s name was set to be TNT. And now, out of nowhere…”

“Debut lineups can change anytime, Woojoo. That’s just how this industry works. You know that nothing is certain until you officially debut, don’t you? This happens to trainees all the time.”

He wasn’t wrong. TJ Entertainment, one of Korea’s “Big Four” agencies, had produced some of the biggest idol groups since the 2000s. I had watched other trainees experience last-minute lineup changes and seen older groups lose members just before their debut. I knew how unstable it could be. Still, I never thought it would happen to me.

“I know this is hard to accept. But—”

“Is it because of my dancing?”

The director fell silent. It was the only answer I needed.

“We had a meeting recently, and there were… concerns. They felt your dancing might throw off the group’s balance. They’re worried it could hurt the group’s image if you debuted as you are now.”

I went quiet.

“The head of management and I both argued to give you more time, but the decision came from above. My hands are tied.”

There was only one person above him—Park Taejun, the CEO of TJ Entertainment and famous in the industry as “the man with the Midas touch.” If he decided I wasn’t debut material, I didn’t have much room to argue.

“I’m sorry, Woojoo.”

It felt like my world was collapsing. I couldn’t even put into words what I was feeling. After nearly six years of sacrifice and hard work—just as I was so close to debut—the company was ready to let me go, labeling me unmarketable, like a defective product. My face flushed and my insides twisted. The cucumber slices I had eaten as a diet snack suddenly felt like they were climbing back up my throat. The director watched sympathetically as I struggled to steady my breathing.

“Are you all right?”

The worst part was knowing I had nothing to say in my defense. Everything the company said was true. Woojoo, the trainee who could sing but always lagged in dance. Woojoo, the one other trainees whispered about behind his back, saying he only made it through evaluations because of his looks.

Yes, getting dropped because of my dancing wasn’t a shock, but knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less. If this was going to happen, they shouldn’t have put me in the debut group to begin with. I had already taken profile photos and moved into the dorm with the other members. And now they were telling me to pack up and leave? It was maddening.

“Woojoo…”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

Tears had started streaming down my face before I even realized it. I grabbed a tissue and dabbed at my cheeks, but it was hard to make them stop. It was the first time I had cried like this in front of anyone since my grandmother had been sick. After a few minutes, I managed to calm down a bit. I took a deep breath and sat down.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?”

“Yes.”

The director’s face was calm, as though this was routine. This probably wasn’t anything new to him. For someone who had to cut trainees every month, my tears were probably just part of his job.

“So…” I started, barely able to get the words out. “What happens to me now?”

“You have three options,” he said. “First, you could step down as an idol trainee and transition to acting.”

“Acting?” I repeated, surprised.

“It was the management team’s suggestion. Your dancing needs work, but your visual appeal is strong, and you do well on camera. Many here think it would be a waste for you to stay in the idol training program when acting could suit you better.”

The director smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Why not give it a try? We’ve brought in several actors over the past few years, so we have the experience. The company is even planning to produce a TV series soon. If you’re interested, we would fully support you.”

“What’s the second option?”

“If you’re still determined to become an idol, we could help transfer you to another agency.”

“Another agency?”

“Yes, like Lemon or DNS. Smaller companies that we have close ties with.”

In other words—mid-sized agencies.

He continued, “And if neither of those options appeals to you… Well, your last choice is to terminate your contract.”

Essentially, I had to choose between transitioning into acting at my current agency, transferring to another agency to continue training as an idol, or ending my contract altogether.

“If I go to another agency, would I actually have a chance to debut?”

“That would depend on your performance,” the director said with a vague smile.

That meant I would be starting over from scratch. I let out a bitter laugh.

“Whatever you decide, we will support you. Although we do think acting…”

His words began to fade, barely reaching me. My mind fell blank. Even if the world ended tomorrow, I doubted I would feel more lost than I did now. A hundred thoughts began clouding my mind.

Is this happening? Am I really being cut from the debut group? What am I supposed to tell Grandma? How am I supposed to face the other trainees when I pack up my stuff from the dorm? What have I been doing here for the past six years?

The thoughts spiraled until I forced myself to pull them together. Finally, I looked up.

“Director.”

“Yes? Have you made up your mind?”

“I have.”

I knew I would regret it later.

“I’ll… end my contract.”

***

“Woojoo…”

“Mmm…”

“Hey, Sun Woojoo.”

“Wha…”

Someone was shaking my shoulder. I must have fallen asleep. I opened my eyes to see a young man in the driver’s seat looking at me with concern. It was Yoon Seokhwan, who was part of the trainee management team. With his glasses, he looked just like the demon from The Number Devil, a book I had read as a kid—minus the skin color and the beard. Seokhwan and I went way back. He was looking at me now with a worried expression.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sorry. I must’ve dozed off.”

“We’re here. Right outside the dorm.”

The car was parked in front of an apartment complex in Gangnam. It was the dorm where TNT—the group I was supposed to debut with—lived. With my contract now terminated, I was here to collect my things. The company had Seokhwan drive me over as a last gesture of kindness.

“It’s funny,” I muttered.

“What is?”

“When they told me I made the debut lineup, it felt like I’d made it to heaven. Now, it feels like I’m standing at the gates of hell.”

Seokhwan stayed quiet.

“The guys aren’t here, right?” I asked.

“No, they’re all at the training center.”

“Right. They’re probably busy with dance practice.”

It already felt like I was talking about a life that wasn’t mine anymore. The other members probably thought I was out on a photo shoot or something. Seokhwan adjusted his glasses.

“Are you really going to leave without saying anything?”

“It’d only make things awkward.”

“But you’ve spent so much time with them. They’ll be hurt, especially Taehyeon. If he finds out you left without saying goodbye—”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have it in me to worry about anyone else’s feelings right now,” I said, my voice catching slightly.

“Got it. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Just give me a few minutes to grab my stuff.”

Feeling that staying any longer would make things awkward, I quickly got out of the car. The elevator carried me up to the seventeenth floor without stopping. The dorm was quiet. Inside, the living room was cluttered, lined with clothing racks and laundry piles. It was just what one would expect from a group of eight.

I went straight to my room and started packing. Since I hadn’t brought much from my hometown in Gunsan, there wasn’t much to take—just a family photo with my parents from when I was little, a few changes of clothes, and my worn, unwashed sweats. As I gathered my things and walked out, a wave of emotion hit me, and I bit my lip to hold back the tears.

Back in the car, I was still struggling to hold it together when Seokhwan looked over, concerned.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”

“I’m not sure yet…”

“You’re welcome to stay at my place.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want to make your family uncomfortable.”

“I live alone now.”

“Then that makes me want to go even less.”

Seokhwan chuckled.

“I think I’ll just head back to Gunsan.”

“Isn’t your high school here in Seoul?”

“I dropped out to focus on debuting, remember?”

The company had tried to talk me out of it, saying it wasn’t necessary, but I hadn’t listened. Back then, debuting was my only focus.

What an idiot.

“Have you told your grandmother?”

“Not yet.”

“She’s going to be very worried, you know…”

“Worried? More like furious. I can already hear her yelling, saying she knew this would happen.”

Just imagining Grandma’s booming voice scolding me sent a shiver down my spine. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about starving. My grandmother might not be the CEO of a big agency, but she ran a little restaurant and was a fantastic cook.

“Are you really just going to quit?” Seokhwan asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah.”

I rolled down the window, letting the spring breeze sweep in and ruffle my hair.

“This decision feels rushed. You should give yourself some time to think it over. Being an idol isn’t the only path in entertainment. There are so many options, like acting, modeling—”

“You sound more upset about this than I am.”

“Of course I am! If I had your looks, I wouldn’t be throwing all of this away.”

“Am I really that good-looking?”

“Take a look in the mirror once in a while, will you?”

“There are tons of good-looking people in the world.”

Seokhwan only scoffed, rolling his eyes. When I first joined as a trainee, he had been the youngest person on the management team, just starting out. After six years together, we had grown very close. Now he held a much higher position, while I was still just a trainee.

“I’m done with this life,” I said, smiling.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just time to face reality. After six years, I think I’m burned out.”

“So, what now?”

“I’m not sure…”

I looked out the window, watching the streets of Gangnam buzzing with people out enjoying the warm spring day.

“Maybe I’ll try living a normal life. Study, go to college, and see the cherry blossoms in spring. Maybe I’ll even date someone. And when the time comes, I’ll join the military.”

“Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Military service… Yeah, good luck with that.”

He gave me a look that said, You’ll see when you get there. Before I knew it, we had reached the bus terminal.

“We’re here.”

As we stopped, Seokhwan handed me a business card.

“Woojoo.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re probably too worn out to think clearly right now. It’s easy to feel defeated, but life is unpredictable. If you ever change your mind—”

“I can call this number, right?”

“Exactly.”

He smiled and held out his hand.

“Take care of yourself. Let’s meet again sometime,” he said.

After we shook hands, I climbed out of the car and slung my backpack over one shoulder. I watched Seokhwan drive off, then glanced around before heading into the terminal. Spring was in the air. People were dressed in lighter clothes, and flowers were blooming everywhere.

“What a beautiful day,” I murmured, looking up at the clear sky.

As I walked into the terminal that day, I thought that would be the end of my journey in the entertainment industry. I was wrong. Three years later, my life would completely change.