A few days ago—the very day after he received the payment for his per‑song contract and bought each of his family members a gift—Hyun‑seung hesitated for a long time before finally deciding to splurge and buy a “gaming console.”
“Come on over to Animal Island!”
It’s a cute, quirky game where you spend your days farming, fishing, and doing other small tasks in a quiet island village with adorable animal friends. In his past life, playing this game always made him feel as if he were vacationing in a resort—so much so that he’d enjoyed it for years.
“Sigh…”
Yet, there was one problem.
“Who on earth is stealing my radishes…?”
After playing the game all day and finally managing to harvest a bumper crop of radishes, someone had stolen every single radish overnight.
“Ugh, it’s depressing…”
Hyun‑seung set down his gaming console by the bed just at that moment.
Biiing––
A call came in from an unrecognized number.
“What?” Hyun‑seung immediately hit the decline button.
At least for now, he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone.
Biiing––
Shortly after, his phone vibrated again.
“What now…?”
Hyun‑seung picked up his phone once more.
“Ah.”
He read a freshly arrived text message and then fell silent for a moment.
The message read:
[ Hello, Composer. This is Manager Kim Woohyun from LS Entertainment’s Management Team. I was very impressed with your song and have a proposal that could be mutually beneficial… ]
Hyun‑seung had expected LS might eventually make a contract offer—but he had not expected them to “bite” so quickly.
“Hmm…”
It was undoubtedly important.
Yes, it was important—but right now, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk about work.
With some effort, he forced himself to type a reply:
[ I’m extremely saddened because all the radishes I struggled so hard to grow overnight were stolen. Let’s talk later. ]
Then, he tossed his phone into a corner of the bed and closed his eyes.
Contract or no contract, he decided he’d think it over after a good, long sleep.
––––––––––––––––––
A few days later…
Kim Woo‑hyun sat in the company cafeteria, scribbling something in a notebook. He noted down a list of observations about “HS” (the pseudonym used by the composer):
1. He is currently using the pseudonym HS.
2. The contracting party’s name and the account holder’s name are “Min Hyun‑seung.”
3. It’s possible that “Min Hyun‑seung” is not his real name.
4. He is presumed to be an exclusive composer for another management company.
5. His talent is clearly outstanding.
6. It appears he’s into radish farming as a hobby.
Then, Woo‑hyun added another line while reviewing the tiny notes about “HS”:
6. A few days ago, after his radish harvest, he mentioned that all his radishes were stolen—and he has been ignoring my calls ever since.
This was completely unexpected from Kim Woo‑hyun’s perspective.
“Don’t they know who I am?” he thought.
If he were an active composer, people in the industry would have heard of the “rising Midas Touch” of Min Hyun‑seung at least once. Even if not his name, surely they’d be familiar with LS Entertainment’s impressive lineup.
“Even if he has no intention of signing a contract, shouldn’t he at least let us know by rejecting it?”
He shook his head. “No… maybe he’s really going through something.”
If someone had worked hard all year to grow radishes only to have them stolen, they might be too upset to pay attention to work.
Still, Woo‑hyun couldn’t just wait forever.
He stared at the number saved under “HS” in his phone contacts and slowly organized his thoughts.
“Should I try to contact him again?”
If he were to reach out, how should he start the conversation? After pondering for a while, he picked up the phone and dialed.
Beep, beep.
After a few rings, a gruff voice answered: “Hello?”
“Is this Min Hyun‑seung?”
“Yeah, who is this?”
Kim Woo‑hyun squinted at the answer before clearing his throat and carefully saying, “I’m very sorry about what happened with your radishes. I truly sympathize with you.”
“Ah, LS?” the other party replied.
“Yes, first of all, please accept my sincere condolences…”
Kim Woo-hyun was about to continue speaking when Hyun-seung interjected, “I’m okay now.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I’ve been forgetting everything by fishing,” Hyun-seung added immediately, “I find that boat fishing on the island really calms my anger.”
At those words, Kim Woo-hyun briefly set his phone—which he had been holding right by his ear—aside and stared blankly at its screen.
“…What is this?”
Even though his voice sounded like someone in his twenties, his hobbies—from farming to fishing—carried an unexpectedly mature tone that struck him as oddly out of place.
He wondered if he might actually be a bearded, long‑haired outdoorsman.
“Are you available to talk right now?” Woo‑hyun asked.
A brief “Just a moment…” was heard through the phone.
“Right now? I’m getting a big catch,” came a muffled response.
After a few moments of grumbling through the line, the voice said, “Oh, it’s a big one!”
Woo‑hyun replied in his usual friendly tone, “Congratulations!”
Then, Hyun‑seung’s voice came back: “But please, keep it brief.”
After swallowing hard, Woo‑hyun explained, “I’d like to propose an exclusive contract. Rather than discussing it over the phone, I’d prefer to meet you in person for a detailed discussion… When do you plan to return to Seoul?”
There was a vague reply: “Seoul? Yes…”
But didn’t he just mention that he was enjoying boat fishing on an island?
“Wait—does Seoul have islands too?” Woo‑hyun wondered. His confusion deepened.
“Okay, I hate dragging things out, so let’s set the terms and meet tomorrow,” the other party said.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow at 5 PM at DP Café in Hapjeong-dong.”
After that, Hyun‑seung added, “Then I’ll go fishing again for now,” and abruptly ended the call.
Woo‑hyun stared blankly at his smartphone.
“Manager, what’s wrong? You look completely spaced out,” a member of the PR team asked as they entered the cafeteria after lunch.
“What’s up?” Woo‑hyun mumbled.
“Does Seoul have an island or something?” he blurted out.
One of the female staff giggled and answered, “Seoul has plenty of islands—there’s Seorae Island, Sebitdungdung Island, and others.”
Woo‑hyun tilted his head.
“So, do people go fishing there too?”
Another male staff member replied, “I saw a documentary recently about eel fishermen there.”
Finally, Woo‑hyun nodded slowly as he began to understand.
Min Hyun‑seung, it seems, is a highly talented composer who also enjoys radish farming and boat fishing on the Han River.
He even sports long hair and a beard (or so the rumors go) and has the blunt manner of ending calls without another word.
“This guy…” Woo‑hyun muttered.
“Overall, he’s a madman,” he added.
The next day, Kim Woo‑hyun arrived at the meeting spot 30 minutes early and glanced at the watch on his wrist.
“4:59…”
There was only one minute left until the scheduled 5:00 PM meeting time.
Yet, he couldn’t get a hold of the composer. His phone stayed silent, and no one showed up.
“Could he be standing me up?”
Even if he claimed to have no intention of signing a contract, once a meeting is arranged it’s common courtesy to explain when you’re delayed, etc.
At least that’s normal in his eyes.
No matter how long he waited, the natural man who farms radishes as a hobby, enjoys boat fishing on the Han River, and sports long hair and a beard simply did not appear.
“Ah…”
Woo‑hyun sighed deeply and looked over at the fishing rod set he had bought with his corporate card—an expensive set he had purchased with his own money because it wasn’t clear whether he could charge it to the company.
“I thought buying it would at least cover me in case I got stood up,” he thought bitterly, lamenting that he hadn’t even bothered to keep the receipt.
At exactly 5:00, his smartphone alarm chimed.
Step by step, he heard footsteps approaching.
Then, suddenly, a young man entered the café.
“Hmm?”
Woo‑hyun looked the newcomer over from head to toe.
This was typical for Woo‑hyun, who always scrutinized anyone with attractive features—he often noted when someone looked like they’d do well on camera, with good proportions, as though they had the looks of an actor.
Then the young man, who had been scanning the café, fixed his gaze on Woo‑hyun and asked,
“Are you with LS?”
Startled by the sudden question, Woo‑hyun coughed a couple of times, as though clearing his throat.
“Could it be… are you the composer?”
Amazingly, the composer—who enjoyed radish farming and boat fishing on the Han River as a hobby—turned out to have a remarkably attractive appearance, one that could easily pass for an actor.
He wasn’t dressed in a traditional, modified hanbok or sporting long hair and a bushy beard that gave off a “natural” vibe.
In fact, he was simply very handsome—so handsome that it took your breath away.
“Yes, I’m Min Hyun‑seung,” the composer said, now sitting across from Woo‑hyun with his arms folded.
“I assumed you wouldn’t come because I couldn’t reach you,” Woo‑hyun remarked.
Min Hyun‑seung narrowed his eyes and replied, “Isn’t it enough if you just show up on time?”
“But…” Woo‑hyun began.
“Do you propose a deal without even establishing trust?”
Immediately, Woo‑hyun bowed his head and apologized, “I’m sorry if I offended you.”
A cold sweat broke out as Woo‑hyun sensed the situation was veering in a tense direction.
In all his hundreds of meetings, Woo‑hyun had never felt so powerless.
“After all, you’re just a rookie,” he thought.
Looking at the youthful face before him—it was clearly someone in his early twenties, with not much work experience—Woo‑hyun could easily have persuaded him to sign on the spot with some attractive terms.
“Actually, I was very impressed with the songs you sent,” Woo‑hyun began. “Your composing talent is truly outstanding. Not just me—the entire in‑house A&R team has been singing your praises.”
Then, Hyun‑seung replied in a tone mixed with irritation, “I know,” and then added, “That’s why you decided to buy my songs.”
Stunned by this bold attitude, Woo‑hyun managed a forced smile.
“Not only that, but you’re also extremely attractive.”
“Yes, as you can see,” Hyun‑seung replied.
“You could easily work as an actor…”
Hyun‑seung answered flatly, “I’m not interested in that.”
A moment of silence passed.
“Then, do you currently have an exclusive contract with another company?” Woo‑hyun asked.
With his words trailing off, Min Hyun‑seung shook his head, “No, not at the moment.”
Woo‑hyun breathed a sigh of relief internally. “Oh, I see…”
Trying to hide his happiness, Woo‑hyun handed over the prepared contract and said,
“As mentioned before, I’d like to propose an exclusive contract with LS Entertainment. Please review the contract. If there’s any part you don’t like, let me know…”
Min Hyun‑seung responded in a level tone, “Fine, I’ll read it.”
He began slowly and thoroughly turning the pages, the soft rustling of paper filling the silence as he read.
“What is this? Could it be that he doesn’t like the terms?” Woo‑hyun thought as he watched him closely.
Even though the contract included a few “toxic clauses” that could work against him in the future, the document was written far more favorably than the industry average. And even those so‑called toxic clauses were crafted so skillfully that a newcomer with little experience couldn’t possibly eliminate them.
Moreover, for a rookie composer, signing with LS Entertainment—which boasts one of the strongest singer rosters in the industry—is like winning the lottery.
“In the end, you’ll have no choice but to sign,” Woo‑hyun thought.
Just then, Woo‑hyun regained his composure and took a sip of his now lukewarm Americano.
“This contract is better than the industry standard,” Woo‑hyun commented, still staring at the contract.
“But there are too many toxic clauses,” Min Hyun‑seung replied.
“Excuse me?”
“Let me read a few out loud.”
Min Hyun‑seung began, “It states that unless a natural disaster occurs, the contract cannot be terminated…”
“Even if no one terminates it, that won’t matter…”
“Unless something unexpected happens with people…”
He read another clause, “In such cases, the copyright period will be adjusted by negotiation.”
“Negotiation, huh…”
“If you don’t agree, our legal team will simply adjust it to our liking.”
And again, “The contract period is too long and the royalty rate is unsatisfactory.”
Shaking his head, Min Hyun‑seung handed the contract back.
“My overall impression is that it lacks sincerity,” he said.
“Though it’s not a typical rookie contract…”
“Yes, I want to be treated according to my talent rather than my experience,” he insisted as he stood up.
“After all, my skills aren’t exactly those of a beginner, are they?” he added coolly.
“Let me give you one more chance.”
“….”
“Please prepare a revised contract with genuine sincerity.”
Kim Woo‑hyun looked at Min Hyun‑seung blankly as if he’d been hit on the back of the head.
“Let’s meet again at this time tomorrow,” Woo‑hyun said.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Min Hyun‑seung turned and left the café in a flash.
“Sigh…”
Kim Woo‑hyun finally managed a wry smile, untying his necktie, and murmured, “This is interesting…”
He had completely miscalculated how easily the contract would be signed.
Woo‑hyun, a veteran who had weathered many contracts in the concrete jungle of the entertainment industry, sensed there was more to this composer than just outstanding musical talent.
How should he put it?
He possessed the kind of experience and insight that comes from signing dozens of contracts over the years.
“Now, who is this guy exactly…”
Kim Woo‑hyun thought as he stood up.
“This composer is definitely going to make it big. In fact, he’s someone I’d love to have on our side by any means necessary.”
“Let’s see who wins…”
A gleam appeared in Woo‑hyun’s eyes.
Next time, he vowed, he would capture him no matter what.
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