A few days ago, on the very day he received his per‑song contract payment and bought gifts for each family member,Mr. Kim neatly filed several contract documents into a clean folder, slipped them into his bag, and confidently re‐tied his tie.
“Min Hyun‑seung, this time I’m determined to get your stamp on this contract no matter what.”
Today, you could see he was absolutely set on sealing the deal.
Ding!
A clear, upbeat notification rang out.
[ “Sorry, something important came up so I’ll be a little late.” ]
When Hyun‑seung’s text finally arrived at the agreed time, it felt like his stomach flipped.
Yet, despite how he felt inside, his reply even came with a smiling emoticon—like his fingers were saying, “It’s all good, chill…”
Just hold on, hang in there…
Hyun‑seung arrived at the café about 20 minutes past the scheduled time.
“I’m really sorry for being so late,” he said.
With a shameless grin, Mr. Kim responded with forced cheer, “No, I’m fine. By the way, something urgent must have come up on your way here, huh?”
Hyun‑seung replied, “Ah, yeah,” and then suddenly pulled out his phone’s album to show Mr. Kim a video.
On the screen was a video of a pretty cute stray cat.
“Actually, on my way here I met a cat.”
“Ah…”
“I fed it, and it just kept following me around—it turned into quite the ordeal.”
So you were late because you got held up messing with a stray cat?
Does that mean you’re into radish farming, island fishing, and even caring for stray animals?
“Honestly, I just can’t stand it when cats and dogs mix,” Hyun‑seung explained.
“I see…”
“Alright, enough small talk,” he said, quickly getting down to business.
“You came fully prepared this time, right?”
At that, Mr. Kim hurriedly pulled out the file he’d stowed in his bag.
“Yes! I’m confident in what I’ve prepared!”
It was the contract he’d meticulously put together—as if he’d made elaborate preparations to capture a wild lion.
“Hmm.”
After a long silence, Hyun‑seung slowly began to review the contract, carefully scanning every page.
How long did that take?
Without saying another word, he placed the contract on the table.
“You’ve looked over it all, I assume.”
Mr. Kim adjusted his posture and cautiously asked, “So, you’re going to sign this time, right?”
“Clearly, I can sense the effort you put in…”
Hyun‑seung, speaking with a half-casual, half-questioning tone, tilted his head and asked,
“Does that mean you really liked my songs that much?”
“Not at all! I liked them—so much so that I’m offering these radical terms…!”
“Or maybe it’s just that our minds don’t quite match.”
Hyun‑seung shrugged.
“Tell me—what reason would a major management company like LS have to tie themselves down to a rookie composer like me?”
It was a downright threatening tone.
“And likewise, I don’t really have to stick with LS either.”
At that, Mr. Kim suddenly shouted, “Hold on!”
Then, after catching his breath, he asked, “Why don’t you just tell me what conditions you’d want?”
Hyun‑seung asked, “Really? That’s alright?” in a cool, even tone, before continuing: “If that was okay, why didn’t you just say so from the start? We’re just wasting each other’s time.”
Mr. Kim forced a smile while barely restraining his irritation, and said, “Now, could you please write them down for me?”
He handed over a sheet of paper and a pen.
“I’ll do my best to meet your conditions.”
Without missing a beat, Hyun‑seung immediately jotted down several “special agreement” conditions.
(Swish, swish, swish…)
How long did that take?
“Damn it!”
Mr. Kim’s face instantly twisted into a scowl as he checked the conditions Hyun‑seung had listed. They were packed with outrageous demands—demands that you’d normally expect only from seasoned composers who’ve already churned out at least five hit songs.
“What the heck?”
Yet the strange thing was: none of the demands were wildly unrealistic or absurdly outlandish.
“Phew—.”
After a moment of serious contemplation, Mr. Kim finally spoke up with resolute determination, “Listen, Min Hyun‑seung.”
Hyun‑seung looked him over.
“Let’s meet again in a few days.”
“Okay, whatever.”
“And be sure to bring your stamp.”
After finishing, Mr. Kim added, almost like a warning, “Then you’ll have no choice but to put your stamp on the contract.”
That got a playful laugh out of Hyun‑seung as he replied, “Sure, please do.”
And so, the second meeting ended without any clear gains for either side.
A few more days passed.
[ Special Conditions ]
- Provide a personal studio.
- Set up the equipment I need.
- No clocking in or out (flexible work hours).
- Contract term shall be on a one‑year basis.
- Absolutely no exposure of personal information.
Once again, Mr. Kim arrived early at the meeting spot and carefully read through the newly reworked contract reflecting Hyun‑seung’s demands from start to finish.
How should I put it?
It wasn’t that the demands were inherently unfair—but these terms just didn’t belong on a rookie composer’s contract.
“Hmm.”
By this point, Mr. Kim couldn’t help but wonder why he was so determined to tie himself to Min Hyun‑seung.
Does he really think Hyun‑seung will be his lifeline to success?
Or is it simply because of the opportunity?
He had planned on getting the stamp on the spot—yet when he got an unexpected response, perhaps that’s when this opportunity arose.
The truth is—it was all due to “gut feeling.”
You know how people always say they “just feel it”?
I was definitely hooked on that one word.
Gut feeling.
But his gut was far sharper and more discerning than most.
It’s thanks to that sharp instinct that I became the youngest manager on the team.
Suddenly, the phrase “삼고초려 (three visits to persuade)” popped into his mind.
Just as Liu Bei visited Zhuge Liang three times to secure his counsel, I, too, have now had three meetings with you.
I wonder… Could Min Hyun‑seung really be the collaborator who lights the fuse for my future success?
“Long time no see.”
At that moment, Hyun‑seung appeared at the meeting spot.
“Nice to see you again.”
With a confident grin, he handed over the contract, saying,
“I’ve incorporated everything. Please take a look.”
Hyun‑seung nodded once and began carefully reviewing the newly added special conditions when Mr. Kim suddenly asked in a low voice:
“By the way, is the ‘Condition 4’—the one that sets the contract term on a one‑year basis—really enough?”
“Condition 4?”
“Yes, that clause.”
Mr. Kim, who had handled contracts himself more times than anyone, was known for being especially meticulous. It was odd that someone as fastidious as Hyun‑seung didn’t seem too bothered by that aspect.
“Yeah, it’s enough,” Hyun‑seung immediately affirmed.
“Besides, in a year my value will have shot up; we can renegotiate then.”
That was an enormous level of confidence.
“Hmph…”
Clearly, unlike other composers who scramble to even specify minimum future terms, Hyun‑seung stood in stark contrast.
“You really are full of yourself.”
“Yeah, love your self.”
Where on earth does that extraordinary confidence come from?
The important thing is, it doesn’t sound far-fetched at all.
“Anyway, thank you for your hard work.”
After signing the contract, Hyun‑seung extended his hand for a handshake.
“Your name is Mr. Kim, right?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Looking forward to working with you.”
Mr. Kim shook Hyun‑seung’s hand and replied, “Yes, likewise…”
I can almost understand Liu Bei’s feeling when he finally won over his esteemed advisor after three visits—maybe half of that admiration, or even just half of half would be enough.
I hope, just that much, you deliver.
After finalizing the contract, Hyun‑seung left the café and headed home.
“Now that the groundwork is mostly done…”
Having signed an exclusive contract with LS Entertainment, the only thing left was to make ‘great songs.’
The studio, equipment, and every other detail would be taken care of by LS Entertainment.
Step by step, as things began to settle, reality started to set in.
“First, I definitely need to move.”
On an uphill street lined with rundown, aging apartment complexes stood the home of Hyun‑seung and his family, somewhere just below the hilltop.
Step by step.
In winter, the hill is so steep that cars barely make it up.
Far off in the distance, he could see the back of his younger sister walking ahead.
“Hmm.”
She looked completely worn out—her heavy school bag and tired gait said it all.
Without missing a beat, Hyun‑seung quickened his pace and strode confidently toward his sister.
“Min Hyun-ah.”
At his call, she jumped in surprise.
“Ah! You scared me!”
Hyun‑seung squinted and asked, “What are you so startled about?”
“You really surprised me!”
With a sly smile, Hyun‑seung snatched her bag and whispered, “Hand it over, I got it.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Come on, I said, hand it over.”
After practically wresting the bag from her, Hyun‑seung clicked his tongue in mock disapproval.
Why is your bag so heavy?
It was probably stuffed with textbooks, reference books, workbooks—books of every kind.
Thinking of his sister lugging around such a heavy bag every day on her way to and from school, made his own heart feel even heavier.
“If I make money, the first thing I’m going to do is moving…”
Hyun‑seung muttered softly.
“What did you say?”
Unable to bear not hearing it, his sister rushed closer and asked, “What did you just say?”
“Nothing, just talking to myself.”
“What did you say?”
Hyun‑seung replied playfully, “I was just saying that kids who can’t study end up with bags as heavy as yours.”
After saying that, he quickened his pace…
“What? Seriously?!”
His sister complained as she hurried behind him.
And that banter between siblings was just as ordinary as ever.
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