Note: Seojini -> Seo Jini | This covers the beginning of chapter 5 in the manhwa
Ding—!
Manager Kim stepped out of the elevator, hastily straightening his tie.
Tap, tap—
He briskly walked down the quiet hallway.
“Ah, you’re here, Manager Kim?”
His secretary, who seemed to be waiting for him, greeted him with quick little steps.
“He’s waiting for you.”
She gestured toward the CEO’s office at the end of the hall, leading the way.
Gulp.
Manager Kim swallowed hard as he followed, suddenly aware of how tense he felt. Expanding his vision, which had narrowed from anxiety, he noticed:
Wow, we really do have a lot of artists.
Along both walls hung row after row of profile photos—an entire history of LS Entertainment’s biggest stars, displayed like trophies. Seeing so many famous celebrities left him in awe, and before long, they reached the CEO’s office.
He’s the one who built this empire with all these celebrities…
Manager Kim was freshly reminded of just how high the CEO’s position really was.
Knock, knock.
The secretary knocked on the door. Inside, the CEO’s low voice rang out, “Come in.”
“Hello, sir!”
As soon as the door opened, Manager Kim bowed deeply and greeted him with a loud, formal tone.
“Sure, have a seat.”
The CEO responded, then added, “Would you like some tea? Or coffee?”
“I’ll have tea, please.”
Nervousness was written all over Manager Kim’s face. Even the plush sofa felt like a bed of nails.
“In that case, let’s both have tea.”
Unlike Manager Kim, the CEO seemed calm and collected. He nodded to his secretary to bring the tea.
This was CEO Jeon Nam-il.
In his early 40s, he’d founded LS Entertainment and in a short time turned it into a top-tier agency. Although he didn’t fit the stereotypical image of an entertainment company CEO—he came across as gentle and refined—his public reputation was stellar.
But let’s be real. If he were truly soft, there’s no way he could have built LS Entertainment into such a giant in the cutthroat entertainment industry. He certainly hadn’t ended up in that seat by accident.
Manager Kim couldn’t help worrying that if he said the wrong thing today, he might be wiped out of the company records altogether.
Stay sharp, he told himself, licking his dry lips.
“Anyway,” the CEO began, taking a small sip of tea, “you probably already know why I asked you here….”
He lowered his teacup and continued, “I hear this new composer you brought in is going to be the head producer for Seo Jini’s single?”
Manager Kim nodded slightly. “Yes, that’s correct. Both parties agreed to it…”
“Was that something Mr. Joo Ji-tae pushed for?”
It was basically an open secret that Joo Ji-tae wasn’t thrilled about getting stuck with Seo Jini. So it wouldn’t have been strange for the CEO to assume the new composer was being forced to take the fall.
“Oh, no. He volunteered.”
“He volunteered?”
“Yes. I found it pretty odd myself.”
Manager Kim hesitated for a second before continuing. “I tried to dissuade him, but he just wouldn’t back down.”
The CEO raised his teacup again and mumbled, “Shouldn’t it be your job, Manager Kim, to change his mind if he’s being stubborn?”
Manager Kim quickly bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
But the CEO acted like he barely heard and went on, resting his chin on his hand. “In that case, how about the two of them co-producing together?”
“Pardon?”
“Mr. Joo Ji-tae said it was tough handling everything alone. With two people, maybe he’d have fewer complaints.”
His voice was gentle as he added, “After all, everyone needs some breathing room.”
“Ah…”
“That way, even if the album bombs, maybe he won’t take the full blame.”
The more Manager Kim mulled it over, the more sense it made. Actually, it was surprisingly considerate of the CEO to worry about a brand-new composer like this. But then an image of Hyun-seung, who had insisted on personally playing for Seo Jini, popped into his mind. Whether he’d agree so smoothly was another matter.
“I’ll try talking it over with them.”
“Hm.” The CEO let out a low sound of acknowledgment and nodded. “We did offer him a sweet deal to bring him on board, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And you know that the timing for Jin-i’s single release isn’t great, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m aware.”
Based on information from the PR team, the timing of Jin-i’s single launch was just plain terrible. It was expected to clash with another famous idol’s comeback from a rival company, as well as the debut of a boy group that already had a growing fandom.
To top it off, her own label mate, Gong Hyo-ju—a highly skilled and well-regarded artist—was releasing something too, which could overshadow Seo Jini. She was basically on the brink of having no space for herself in the market.
“As you know, if Jin-i’s next album fails to meet at least the break-even point, our contract with her ends here. So that new composer basically holds her contract renewal in his hands.”
They had been talking for a while about terminating Seo Jini’s contract. LS Entertainment wasn’t a charity for artists; it was a profit-making organization. There was no reason to hold on to a singer who couldn’t even break even, purely out of sentimentality. And since she’d already been labeled a has-been, if the news got out that LS was dropping her, no reputable management company would likely pick her up unless it was a bad deal for her.
So yes, the CEO was spot-on: whether or not Seo Jini could stick around depended on Hyun-seung.
But that also meant…
Hyun-seung’s own future hung on whether her album succeeded or flopped.
“I’m not a fan of impulsive people,” the CEO remarked, rhythmically tapping the armrest of his chair with his fingers. “They’re hard to control and even harder to predict.”
That was a warning.
“But if someone can deliver big results, that’s a different story.”
A warning aimed at Hyun-seung, via Manager Kim.
“I’ll speak with him,” Manager Kim said.
“Please do. I’d actually like him to stick around for a long time.”
A faint smile flickered across the CEO’s face, then vanished.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Manager Kim just wanted to loosen the noose that was his tie as soon as possible.
When Manager Kim passed along the CEO’s suggestion to Hyun-seung, the response was exactly what he’d expected.
“I picked the instruments, I wrote the music, and I’m doing the performance myself. I don’t like letting other people meddle in my work.”
Exactly what Manager Kim had seen coming.
“If this album tanks, you might not get another chance to do any real work before your career’s over.”
Manager Kim tried again to persuade him.
“If it flops, I’ll take full responsibility. If it’s all right, I’d like to head to the studio now.”
Despite Manager Kim’s continued attempts, Hyun-seung set off for the recording booth alone.
Cre-eak—
Seo Jini entered the studio soon after. Catching sight of her, Hyun-seung spoke up right away:
“How’s your voice today?”
“Huh? My voice?”
Surprised, she automatically touched her throat.
“It’s… not bad.”
“Start warming it up.”
Something about Hyun-seung’s vibe now felt totally different from their first meeting. Standing there in the studio, he was more like a veteran director or producer with years of experience.
She started humming, “Ah—,” and he narrowed his eyes.
“Try loosening up your throat a bit more before you make any sound.”
He was picking up on her voice, which sounded constricted—maybe from nerves or pressure to succeed. Her tightened vocal cords were muting her natural tone.
“Ah—like this?”
“Right.”
And just like that, once she relaxed her voice, Hyun-seung nodded approvingly.
“You don’t have any other schedules today, right?”
“No.”
“How about tomorrow?”
“No…”
“And the day after?”
“I’m technically free, but…?”
She looked confused, but he just said, “Shall we get started?”
He opened the door to the recording booth and motioned for her to come in. Surprised by his unexpectedly courteous gesture, Seo Jini hesitated for a second.
“Once you’re in there, let me know when you’re ready. We’ll start with a sound check.”
Shortly after, she discovered that his ‘kind gesture’ was more like the devil guiding her straight into hell.
What a relentless guy.
Five hours in, that was the only thought swirling around her head. She’d worked with plenty of producers and recording directors before, but…
Never seen anyone make me record like this.
At first, he had her do multiple full takes. She figured he just liked taking full passes. Then, he started chopping it up line by line, and eventually, he even split it up syllable by syllable.
“Can’t we take a little break?”
“Sure. But keep doing vocal exercises.”
She shuffled out of the booth, collapsed onto the sofa, and watched him work. Even during the break, he was reviewing the takes they’d recorded, totally focused on his laptop.
The guy doesn’t take a break, huh…
She’d gone into this thinking, “He’s just a cocky new composer.” But here in the studio, he was anything but a newbie. The way he stayed on top of every detail to get the best possible recording, the way he made sure the singer was in good form without being overbearing—it felt like he’d been directing sessions for years.
And above all, he was patient, making sure she was comfortable so she could deliver her best performance. That alone put out any lingering doubts she still had about him.
Most importantly, the songs fit my style perfectly.
The biggest reason she could finally belt out her vocals with confidence—freed from that strangled feeling—was that the music itself was fantastic. This single album had three tracks, and all of them felt tailored to her voice, like custom-made clothing.
Maybe this single really could be a hit…
Her eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope, and a small smile played on her lips.
“Try not to lie down too much—it’ll make your throat tense up.”
His voice suddenly cut through her thoughts. It was firm, almost stern.
“Yeah, yeah. Got it.”
For some reason, it didn’t bother her at all. It was obvious that even his nagging was for the sake of the music.
She found herself smiling again.
“So… how long do you plan to keep resting, anyway?”
“I’m good to go now.”
She got up off the couch and added, “Shall we get back to it?”
And just like that, they kept recording without a single complaint for two whole days.
“Good grief. What the heck happened here?”
Manager Kim glanced around the trashed recording studio—takeout containers and empty water bottles were everywhere—then let out a long sigh. It looked like a tornado had ripped through the place.
Hearing him arrive, Hyun-seung pulled off his headphones and turned around. “Oh, hey. You’re here?”
“What on earth went down in here?”
At Manager Kim’s question, Hyun-seung gave a tiny shrug.
“Manager Kim….”
A groggy voice piped up from the couch in the corner. It was Seo Jini, who’d been curled up there asleep. She lifted her mussed head and squinted at him.
“Could you keep it down? You ever heard of studio etiquette?”
“Studio etiquette…?”
He watched as she flopped back over, and he scratched his head awkwardly.
Isn’t a recording studio usually kind of loud…?
After another quick look at the disastrous mess, he glanced back at her.
“But seriously, what happened here?”
He couldn’t believe he was seeing the famously self-disciplined Seo Jini—known for being so strict about her routines that she refused all late-night shoots—actually crashing in the studio. That was headline news in itself.
“We’ve been recording,” Hyun-seung answered.
“I heard you were still in here, but I didn’t realize it was this intense…”
Manager Kim gave a dry chuckle. “Anyway, do you really need the studio for the rest of today?”
“We’ll manage. I’m just going to do a bit more monitoring before I head out.”
And with that, Hyun-seung slipped his headphones back on to review the takes, the editing software full of stacked vocal tracks. Watching him, Manager Kim shook his head in disbelief.
I thought he was just a naturally gifted songwriter, but…
Now he realized that beneath that talent lay a certain streak of madness. The intensity you’d see in a truly obsessive producer.
“Mind if I listen to the track?” Manager Kim asked.
“It’s not finished yet.”
“That’s okay. Even an early demo would be fine.”
Normally, Manager Kim would listen to anything his artists planned to release, just as a formality. But this time, he really just wanted to hear it.
“Go ahead. Just use my headphones—Seo Jini’s asleep.”
So Manager Kim took the headphones that had been around Hyun-seung’s neck.
Click.
A moment later, the backing track began gently tickling his ears. Manager Kim listened for a while, then swallowed nervously.
“…Holy crap.”
He glanced at Hyun-seung, eyes wide, and muttered again,
“This is insane…”
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