Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: This Life is Space Star 68
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The fan signing event had finally begun.
The New Black members started greeting fans in a frenzy.
Seats were arranged by age, youngest first, so the maknae was the one meeting fans right off the bat.
Wang Ji-ho forced an awkward smile and swallowed hard.
*Hyungs, trust me!*
...That’s what he’d boasted right up until stepping onto the stage.
He regretted waving off Bi-ju hyung’s offer to switch seats and his concerned *You sure you’ll be okay?*
Wang Ji-ho had faith in his own affability.
He made friends easily with anyone at school, so he figured it’d be the same with fans.
But...
“Uh, um, hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Wang Ji-ho.”
The moment his first fan appeared, he blurted out the weirdest self-introduction without thinking.
Laughter erupted from the line of fans behind her.
It wasn’t a blind date—what kind of greeting was that?
Mortified, embarrassed, on the verge of tears, Wang Ji-ho excused himself from the fan for a moment.
“Sorry, just a sec. I’m so nervous...”
*Whoa, don’t cry,* voices murmured from the queue.
Wang Ji-ho took deep breaths to calm his shaking heart.
But he couldn’t stop his eyes from welling up.
These were fans who’d come to the showcase, watched the music shows, left encouraging posts on the fan cafe.
He’d wanted to chat properly, thank them profusely, show his best side...
But his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
Facing the fan head-on had blanked his mind.
Gratitude surged, but so did the nerves, turning his thoughts to mush.
He couldn’t remember any prepared lines, couldn’t get the words out.
Upset and sorry, tears threatened unbidden.
The fan across from him asked,
“You okay?”
“I...”
Everyone leaned in.
“Got a tissue...?”
Big laughs exploded.
*Anyone got tissues?* Fans rummaged through bags, passing one over.
Some whispered about the Music Cafe incident.
“I’m good now!”
After the laughter subsided, Wang Ji-ho pulled himself together.
He talked twice as much as usual from the nerves.
“Uh, hi. Wow! That doll’s so cute. Oh, you brought it for me? What about the others? Oh, you got ‘em. Still... this lion’s got the fluffiest fur, and those button eyes...”
Fans covered their mouths, giggling at Wang Ji-ho spilling his stream-of-consciousness like a broken doll.
Just adorable.
Not everyone was laughing, though.
Seo Ri-hyuk, seated right next to him, hung his head like he was awaiting the apocalypse.
*We’re doomed.*
Wang Ji-ho’s floundering hit too close to home.
If even he was like this, how bad would Ri-hyuk be?
Dreading his own comical mishaps with fans, he felt queasy already.
The more he thought that, the more he jutted his chin out, forcing a calm expression.
“Ri-hyuk, you good?”
“Yeah. No problem.”
“Your hand’s shaking like crazy.”
“It’s essential tremor.”
His signing hand trembled visibly.
He’d practiced hundreds of signatures last night, but now they looked like jagged edges from pinking shears.
“You practiced a ton, though.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. Let me rewrite your name.”
She just smiled at his earnest offer.
But after three tries, “Soo-jin” still looked like “hangover.”
Her joke about craving booze now didn’t help Ri-hyuk’s rainy mood.
*I’ve got good handwriting.*
Lying in his top bunk last night, blanket pulled up, he’d imagined it: slick signatures, neat messages below, fans cooing *Wow, pretty handwriting!*
...Yeah, right.
Another victim laughed as “Sang-eun” morphed into “shark.”
“It’s okay, Ri-hyuk. It’s the thought that counts.”
“I usually write really nicely.”
“Sure, sure.”
“No, really. Ask the members.”
They didn’t buy it.
Just found him cute.
Indignant, he vowed to get someone to post his handwriting on the company SNS later.
*Why do they see me as cute, anyway?*
His sharp features usually kept people at bay, yet fans were unfazed.
Wondering why, he soon found out.
“I bawled listening to Night Sea live. Reminded me of my late grandma—the lyrics hit so hard. It was that good. I had to tell you face-to-face I loved it. You sang it so beautifully... Ri-hyuk?”
“...Yeah?”
“You okay? Your ears are super red.”
“Nah. My ears just flush under lights.”
“Whoa, just like on the radio.”
Blame the radio.
Clips from Visible Radio had spread: prickly looks, but a total pushover underneath.
Smiling sweetly at fans, Seo Ri-hyuk plotted payback on the maknae back at the dorm.
Meanwhile.
Unlike the babbling maknae, the glowing-eared dongsaeng line, the hyung line stayed relatively composed.
“Hello.”
Kim Jung-hyun greeted fans matter-of-factly.
But each one flinched.
*I’m not scary.*
To reassure them, Kim Jung-hyun rambled on.
Short on eloquence, but sincerity worked—fans soon chatted comfortably with him.
Unlike the over-nervous dongsaengs needing comfort, he seemed steady.
On the surface, anyway.
Beneath the calm, whirlpools churned.
-*Hyung, run everything through your brain before speaking.*
-*Yeah, no random stuff.*
-*Jung-hyun, smile at fans. You look scary stone-faced.*
Heeding the members’ endless nagging, he tried his best.
Smiling diligently at fans.
Scrambling for fitting replies mid-sentence.
“Wow, oppa, you’re so slim!”
“Me?”
“Yeah! Super skinny. Videos made you look huge, but in person? Total beanpole.”
“Oh.”
What to say?
Kim Jung-hyun’s brain revved.
He landed on something.
“I’m actually only 66 kilos.”
“With your height?”
Reaction wasn’t bad.
Chats veered oddly sometimes, but fans laughed along, enjoying it.
Relief.
Kim Jung-hyun exhaled, glancing back.
*No worries with those two.*
Always-calm Kim Bi-ju and do-everything-well Seon Wooju? Solid.
No tension from them either.
Pure delusion on his part.
*...A fan.*
Kim Bi-ju’s beaming head spun ten times faster than usual.
What to say?
Calling her noona outright rude?
What title then?
Wrong one offend her?
Amid the whirlwind, he smiled calmly.
“Hi.”
Fans marveled at his poise.
Unlike slightly edgy Kim Jung-hyun, he looked utterly serene.
Just honed from years reading the family vibe due to his sickly kid brother.
Fans’ *so mature* thoughts didn’t last.
Age-appropriate glimpses peeked through.
“Wow, this is the Post-it.”
“Cool, right?”
“Yeah, so cool. I just answer what you wrote?”
“Yup.”
Fans smiled at Kim Bi-ju checking MCQs then essaying detailed reasons, dotting i’s.
Personality shone through.
The most diligent practice-vid member, always dissed as the serious one by the maknae—his earnestness showed.
And when he goofed, the calm face cracked into standard member panic.
“Oops, sorry. I messed up the signature.”
Mid-spilling the kimchi fried rice secret from their reality show—the one members vacuumed up.
Multitasking talk and signing, he wrote “from. Kimchi-ju” instead of “from. Kim Bi-ju.”
“Hold on, I’ll ask for correction fluid—”
“It’s fine.”
She waved it off.
“Don’t worry. It’s cute and nice.”
“No, it’s ruined.”
Fans laughed at his pout.
Fun vibe.
Members, initial funeral atmosphere fading, regained poise from the responses.
*Like Uju hyung said, relax.*
They loosened up, acting natural.
Stealing glances at the leftmost guy whenever possible.
-*Forget everything I said. Just remember one thing: if you get stuck, watch that hyung. Saw it since trainee days—copy him loosely, and you’ll manage.*
Seon Wooju was swamped too, no real help possible.
But his presence mattered.
Having a rock nearby steadied them.
Like staring at a talisman in tough spots.
They peeked at the leader for comfort, mimicry fodder.
Wang Ji-ho, mid-motor-mouth, deep-breathed like Wooju pre-fan.
Seo Ri-hyuk gripped his shaky wrist with the other hand, copying the guy ahead.
Kim Jung-hyun gave up imitating.
Kim Bi-ju matched eye-contact timing.
And whenever they improved watching him, they stuck out tongues in awe.
That initial mess-up machine turned pro in seconds.
Couldn’t copy everything, though.
“Wooju, I listened to Night Sea on the way—love it so much.”
“Oh, really?”
Members flinched.
-*No ‘Oh really?’ or ‘Oh yeah?’ Fans prep stories, pick the best of 100. ‘Oh yeah’ kills the steam.*
Same slip, but recovery differed.
Seon Wooju looked up at the fan.
Smiled.
That album photoshoot-famous expression.
“What part of Night Sea hit you?”
...Seamlessly continuing.
The fan’s reaction? Golden.
Warm close.
But members’ gazes at their leader turned icy.
*Using his face, Uju hyung.*
*Tch...*
*Face-covering that ajusshi.*
*Cheating with looks.*
Their beloved leader irked sometimes.
* * *
Tae-hyun’s dumb comment...
I felt the members’ sneaky glances, straightened up.
Not just *do well!*—if I wobble, they wobble. Kept me sharper than usual.
Steeling myself.
An album plopped beside me.
Sleek black hardcover, silver *First Chapter*.
Bi-ju and fan chatting.
Heart pounding wild.
Mouth dry, palms sweaty.
Each fan blanks my mind.
What line?
Tossed ideas, shook head.
Nah. Be real.
Real.
Calming quivering jaw, awaited the next.
Seat filled.
Tae-hyun’s advice echoed.
-*First fan meet? You’ll freeze—no titles. Call her noona friendly. Looks young? Stick to polite.*
Smiled, greeted.
“Hi, noona.”
Fan’s reaction weird.
Hesitant, she ventured,
“Oppa...”
Oppa?
“I’m sixteen.”
Oh no.
Fan manager behind stifled a laugh.
“Uh... um.”
“Yeah.”
“Sixteen... birth year?”
“‘99.”
“Oh, ‘99er. I’m ‘93.”
Brain tangled.
No clue what I’m saying.
“St, uh, still, you saw the 2002 World Cup.”
“I was four...?”
Laughter burst.
Singer’s me, fan’s them—yet they’re calm, I’m the klutz.
Sheepish grin, scratching cheek, she offered the album.
“Please sign.”
Nodded eagerly, took it.
Excused,
“Forgive me. First fan sign ever—super nervous. See? Still am.”
“Yeah, I see.”
She replied.
“That’s why I like it.”
Smiled back at her sparkle, uncapped pen over the page.
“What’s your name?”
* * *
Same time.
Fans lived the world’s happiest moments.
Hearts swelling, endless smiles.
Face-to-face with their idol? Bliss—but exceeded expectations.
*Wow, their faces are insane...*
Actor agency roots?
Lemon Entertainment’s boy group debut: visual aces only.
Eye candy overload.
Each signature rejuvenated brain cells five years.
*Next, please.*
Fan manager’s gesture? Brutal.
Want more face time.
Idols like gallery paintings: stare all morning, lunch, back till closing.
But time limited.
Fans etched every detail in that window.
Fluttering lashes.
Bashful expressions.
Even breaths.
Oblivious to New Black’s inner grimaces.
*Why that look? Did I mess up?*
*Those eyes. Gorgeous...*
Ongoing singer-fan disconnect.
But affection wasn’t just looks.
*No wonder some only stan rookies.*
Veteran group fans marveled at the novelty.
Freshness?
Rookie-only sensitivity.
Mistakes, shyness, raw sincerity per word.
Heart-tugging stuff.
They knew it wouldn’t last.
All idols polish pro with time.
New Black would too.
Stars distancing someday.
But not here.
Like watering saplings: tiny care sprouts eager leaves—fans beamed.
Priceless, irreplaceable.
And.
At table’s end, for the regretful—swallowed words, unasked Qs—a hand extended.
“Thanks so much for coming today.”
Wooju clasped departing hands, handed gifts.
Eco-bag: animals chilling under trees, *From The New Black* below.
Handmade by their idol.
Regret vanished; relieved smiles bloomed on receiving fans.