Jung Arin, who had been standing there blankly, cautiously asked:
“Are you really going to let me debut?”
“If you prove to be a usable ‘instrument,’ yes,” Hyunseung replied.
Once again, Jung Arin stood there slack-jawed, staring at Hyunseung as she tried to sort out her thoughts.
No matter how she looked at it, he couldn’t be older than his mid-twenties. How could someone so young manage to debut a trainee—who never even got close to a debut lineup and was ultimately kicked out?
Could it be…?
A sudden hypothesis crossed her mind.
What if this man really was the composer everyone was talking about in the rumors?
If he was indeed the composer favored by both the company’s CEO and board of directors, then maybe he actually could make her debut happen.
“Um, excuse me, sir…”
Hyunseung frowned. “Sir? I haven’t taught you anything, so why call me that?”
“Oh, well, that’s not what I meant—then, hmm…”
“Never mind. Just say what you were going to say.”
“Are you that composer people have been talking about?”
“The composer from the rumors? What rumors are going around?”
Arin bit her lip, hesitating to ask outright about all the hearsay—for instance, whether he really used some dolphin-style sleeping method, or if even the famed Seo Jini cowered in front of him.
“I just heard a talented new composer had joined the company…”
After a brief “Hmm,” Hyunseung answered, “A talented newcomer? Then they’re probably talking about me.”
At those words, Arin asked again: “So what do I need to do?”
The moment she realized he might actually have the ability to debut her, she blurted out the question reflexively. This was clearly an opportunity—maybe the chance of a lifetime. She had to seize it somehow.
“First, I want to check how this ‘instrument’ sounds.”
“Huh?”
“To see how well it’s been maintained and whether it needs tuning,” Hyunseung continued.
“In other words, sing something for me.”
A few seconds later:
♪ “On a rainy day, you came to me…”
She started singing without a moment’s hesitation. She’d already sung countless times in front of others—at auditions and monthly trainee assessments. Besides, this was her once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; there was no reason to hesitate.
♪ “I still remember the hand that offered me that umbrella…”
Her gentle voice resonated softly, brushing the ears like a delicate breeze.
♪ “Maybe…maybe you’ll reach out your hand to me once again.”
Her voice was simple and pure, yet there was a resolute quality beneath it. Now that her breathing—previously shaky from dancing—had stabilized, the clarity of her already bright tone came through with piercing vividness.
No need to hear more, Hyunseung thought, raising his hand.
“That’s enough.”
Arin, her song abruptly cut short, parted her lips as if disappointed. “Was it bad? I can try again if you’d like.”
“No, that was fine. You can go now.”
“Please, if you give me another chance, I’ll really—”
“I said we’re done. Go on.”
Stuck in a moment of indecision, Arin only shuffled her feet. Finally, Hyunseung added:
“I’ll call you when the song’s ready.”
“So…?”
“Just keep yourself in good condition.”
Only then did Arin’s face light up. She responded with a resounding “Yes!” and hurried out of the studio. As soon as the door clicked shut, Hyunseung began to hum the tune he’d just heard.
“Mmm…”
He even tapped his fingers against the desk in time, tok-tok, as if finding a beat.
“Jung Arin…”
She turned out to be a far better “instrument” than he’d expected.
“Looks like I’ll be holed up in the studio for a few days again.”
In his previous life, he had never heard of anyone named Jung Arin. Which meant she had either never made her debut or, if she did, she vanished without leaving a trace.
But now she’s met me. She can fulfill her role as an instrument at last.
With that, Hyunseung sat down at his master keyboard and started experimenting with beats on a new track. He strummed a guitar, layering one sound after another, chasing the memory of her voice in his mind.
Jung Arin— her clear, refreshing voice had already become the creative fuel igniting his work.
A few days later…
In the CEO’s office, CEO Jeon Nam-il and most of the company’s top executives were gathered.
Seated at the head of the table was CEO Jeon, flanked on each side by Executive Director Park and Director Choi.
On Director Park’s side sat the members of Management Team 1 in a neat row while on Director Choi’s side sat the members of Management Team 2.
A short hush fell over the room. Then, Kim, the manager seated beside Director Choi, cautiously spoke up:
“Seo Jini’s reception in Japan is turning out better than we expected. She even managed to sneak onto the Oricon chart…”
CEO Jeon nodded slowly at the continued briefing.
“I was thinking, if we hold a showcase over there and secure a proper footing in the Japanese market, we might even aim for a solo concert this winter…”
Director Choi chimed in, “Yes, exactly. If she follows her planned schedule in Japan diligently, we could aim for a higher spot on the Oricon chart by the end of her promotional period.”
The meeting had been called to discuss Seo Jini’s upcoming activities in Japan.
“Hmm.”
CEO Jeon made a subtle expression and fell into thought.
Manager Kim gulped nervously.
“I like it,” the CEO finally said—permission granted.
Great! Manager Kim nearly burst with relief.
Tap, tap.
Sitting beside him, Director Choi patted his hand lightly, as if acknowledging all his hard work.
Director Choi was one of the few board members in the company with an equity stake. He had once been part of Management Team 2 himself. When Manager Kim first joined LS Entertainment, Director Choi had still been a department head—a senior who mentored him.
Over the years, Director Choi had racked up achievements and, recognized as one of the founding pillars of the company’s success, had recently taken a board seat.
In simpler terms: Manager Kim was considered part of “Director Choi’s faction.” True to the saying that “the arm bends inward,” he’d always been loyal to the boss who’d looked after him since his rookie days. The feeling was mutual—Director Choi had no reason not to value an employee as capable and loyal as Manager Kim.
With the CEO’s go-ahead, the meeting was effectively wrapped. Yet it seemed everyone wanted to chat with the CEO a bit longer.
At that moment…
“Now that the ‘Seo Jini problem’ is sorted out, CEO, you seem more relaxed these days,” Executive Director Park, seated to the CEO’s left, ventured to say.
“Well, yes, I am in a good mood,” the CEO replied.
Executive Director Park laughed heartily, “Ha-ha,” and added, “Jini did show promise in the past, so I always believed she’d make a comeback. I just didn’t think she’d bounce back this quickly. It’s such a relief.”
Director Choi’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Flattery…
Park and Choi had been rivals ever since LS Entertainment was founded. In the past, Park had overseen Management Team 1 while Choi managed Team 2, and they had competed fiercely. Even after both became executives, they continued to split responsibilities for the management teams, maintaining their rivalry.
Given that context, Executive Director Park probably wasn’t thrilled about Seo Jini’s success.
“Anyway, I’m glad things are going well for her,” Park continued.
CEO Jeon asked casually, “So you always believed she’d bounce back?”
“Yes, that’s right…”
“Hmm, that’s the opposite of what I thought,” the CEO said calmly.
“In truth, I saw Seo Jini as a failed product—someone who’d lost her marketability and wouldn’t be able to regain the public’s attention or love. But…”
He trailed off, looking at Manager Kim.
“I didn’t expect that person to pull it off so spectacularly.”
“You mean Hyunseung?” asked Manager Kim.
“I hope my opinion of him won’t have to change,” the CEO replied. Then he asked,
“I’ve heard that, thanks to Jini’s successful album, there have been numerous collaboration requests. Is his next project decided?”
Manager Kim hesitated, opening and closing his mouth before forcing out a response.
“Well, actually…”
Just then—
Bzzz, bzzz.
A sudden vibration drew everyone’s attention to the CEO.
“This friend of ours apparently isn’t one for manners,” the CEO remarked.
“Pardon?” asked Executive Director Park.
“How does he know we’re talking about him and call at exactly this moment?” the CEO said, glancing at his phone.
A tense look spread across Manager Kim’s face.
Why on earth is Hyunseung calling the CEO now…?
He knew they had exchanged contact information before, but what sort of personal matter would drive Hyunseung to call the CEO directly?
This is nerve-racking…
Hyunseung was like a wild card—nobody could predict his next move.
I just hope he doesn’t say anything crazy…
All eyes were on the CEO. After all, his personal phone didn’t ring very often, and few people in the company even had his private number. Among those, almost no one would dare call him out of the blue—certainly not a newly signed composer. So how had Hyunseung even gotten the CEO’s number?
While everyone silently watched, CEO Jeon brought the phone to his ear:
“Yes, this is Jeon Nam-il.”
“This is Min Hyunseung, sir. We’ve spoken before. I’ll be brief since I know you’re busy.”
Hyunseung’s calm voice was audible to those nearby.
“There’s a trainee named Jung Arin, who was let go from LS Entertainment recently after a long stint without debuting. I’d like to work with her on my next project.”
The CEO raised an eyebrow.
“Doesn’t sound like you’re asking for permission.”
“I’m simply reporting it to you, sir.”
“Is this a personal favor for someone you know…?”
“No, we’re not personally acquainted.”
CEO Jeon paused for a moment and spoke slowly: “Our trainers here at LS Entertainment are all highly competent.”
“I’m aware. And?”
“They wouldn’t drop someone for no reason. I’m a bit curious why you’d choose a trainee who’s been kicked out.”
A moment of silence passed.
“I’m wondering about your motive for wanting to work with someone who was already cut.”
Then Hyunseung suddenly made a cryptic remark:
“Anyone can produce sound from a violin.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Everyone in the room leaned in, waiting for Hyunseung’s next words from the other side of the call.
“If you scrape the bow across the strings any which way, you’ll get noise.”
“And so?”
“Making a sound and performing music are two entirely different matters.”
The CEO said nothing but let out a low hum.
“No matter how good an instrument’s tone is, if it’s in the hands of someone who can’t draw out its true potential, it becomes nothing but noise. And I showed you what I could do with Seo Jini, didn’t I? I’m thinking along the same lines now. If she’s in my hands, I believe I can make a decent performance out of her.”
He added: “Before I start producing her debut track, could you help arrange a management contract between the company and this former trainee?”
A faint smile curved over CEO Jeon’s lips.
“You’re confident you can deliver satisfactory results again?”
Finally:
“Yes, of course.”
With a few more back-and-forth remarks, the call ended. The CEO slipped his phone back into his suit pocket, still wearing a faint smile.
What was that?
Executive Director Park’s face twisted with conflicting emotions.
That man—he’s like a robot…
In all the years Park had worked beside CEO Jeon, he had rarely seen the man smile. Some even joked he had no emotions, that if you pricked him with a needle, molten steel would ooze out instead of blood. That was how stoic he usually appeared.
“Sir, was that the composer handling Seo Jini?” Executive Director Park asked eagerly, and the CEO confirmed with a nod. Then the CEO glanced over at Manager Kim.
“He says he wants to produce a single album with the trainee who was kicked out.”
Manager Kim instinctively pressed a hand against his forehead.
Good grief.
He’d said he’d decide in a few days, and now here he was causing another stir.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do my best to reason with him—”
CEO Jeon shook his head. “No, no.”
“Doesn’t seem like the type of stubbornness you can easily break.”
That was when Executive Director Park abruptly interjected:
“But that… fellow…”
Everyone’s eyes turned to him.
“No matter how well this last album went, he’s still just a rookie composer. Don’t you think he’s starting to act a bit out of line…?”
CEO Jeon responded in his usual steady tone, “Well, he’s asking for a chance. We can grant him that.”
“Hmm…”
“He’s already shown us what he’s capable of with the latest album,” Jeon added, taking a sip of tea. “And who knows—he might turn out to be the goose that lays golden eggs.”
Executive Director Park’s face betrayed a brief flash of displeasure. His feelings were undoubtedly envy. It irked him to see a mere composer receiving the CEO’s attention.
At that moment, the CEO set down his teacup and spoke in a gentle voice:
“Director Park, here’s what I think.”
Silence fell.
“When you have someone immensely talented but impossible to control, there are only two ways to handle them.”
He wore a mild smile.
“First, you keep them close and nurture them. Even if they’re difficult to manage, as long as they keep delivering results, there’s no point in letting them go, right?”
He paused, then continued:
“The other way is what you do if their successes and failures fluctuate too wildly or they keep causing trouble—you crush them. Destroy them, root and all.”
In an instant, the mood in the room grew somber.
“If it’s awkward to keep them around but too painful to see them go elsewhere, uprooting them entirely can be a perfectly good option,” he said. Then he asked:
“Don’t you agree?”
His gaze was fixed on Manager Kim.
“Yes…” Manager Kim murmured.
Depending on how this next album fared, it looked like the CEO might go in one of two extremes with Hyunseung—keep him close or cut him off completely.
Leave a Reply