“Here we are.”
At those words, Hyunseung lifted his head and looked out through the windshield. A massive wrought-iron gate leading to an enormous mansion came into view.
Nice place, he thought.
It was almost on the scale of an Ahbang Palace—the gate alone was impressive. Even after passing through it, they drove quite a distance before the mansion itself finally appeared. Along the way, there were carefully tended bonsai trees, a koi pond with bright carp swimming around, and a stone bridge spanning the water.
Meanwhile, unlike Hyunseung—who seemed largely unfazed—Manager Kim was visibly agitated.
“Wow, this place is insane…”
The grandeur of the estate was reminiscent of a drama set, making it impossible not to be impressed. Sure, Manager Kim made a decent living, but the bills, the mortgage, and various fees always hit hard every month.
“I could’ve started working back in the days of King Geunchogo and still wouldn’t be able to afford a place like this,” he joked.
He then turned to Hyunseung.
“Hey, why are you so calm?”
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you surprised? Intimidated? Anything?”
“Not particularly.”
Chatting like that, they soon arrived at the mansion’s entrance nestled deep in the garden.
Shortly after, Director Choi, Manager Kim, and Hyunseung stepped out of the car.
Ding-dong.
Just as Director Choi reached out to press the doorbell beside the entrance—
Click!
The door opened.
“Teacher, we’re coming in,” Director Choi said into the intercom. Then, with a respectful hand, he opened the door and ushered them inside.
A long hallway filled with artworks greeted them immediately. And from the far end of that corridor came an elderly man—a thin figure wearing rimless glasses.
“Hey, Geun-sik,” the old man called out, addressing Director Choi by name rather than by title. Clearly, they were quite close.
His hair was thick and white, as though dusted with snow, and he wore simple traditional Korean loungewear, the collar slightly rumpled. His unassuming appearance was almost out of place in such a lavish setting. Yet, the sharpness in his eyes, visible behind the glasses, suggested there was more to him than met the eye.
This was Lee Du-seok—the man Director Choi had described as a “living fossil” of the entertainment world and one of the founding fathers of LS Entertainment.
“Teacher, I hope you’ve been well,” Director Choi said, bowing at a perfect ninety-degree angle.
Lee Du-seok waved him off.
“Agh, enough of the formalities. I’ve retired; there’s no need to call me ‘Teacher.’ I’m just an old man in the neighborhood now.”
He gave a hearty laugh, then finally turned his gaze to Manager Kim and Hyunseung behind Choi.
“And these two… I don’t believe we’ve met?”
Director Choi introduced them.
“This gentleman here is my successor, Manager Kim Woo-hyun.”
Kim Woo-hyun bowed low. Lee Du-seok nodded in acknowledgment.
“All right, he looks bright. Probably good at his job, too.”
Then his eyes landed on Hyunseung.
“And who is this? Judging by his face, he could be an actor or a singer…”
There was a brief silence before Director Choi answered with a grin,
“He gets that a lot because of his looks, but he’s actually a composer.”
“A composer?” Lee Du-seok repeated, clearly intrigued. Then he shrugged.
“Well…all right.”
He turned and headed deeper into the hallway.
“Let’s talk inside.”
They passed through a set of double doors at the end of the corridor and entered a spacious hall. One glance told them everything was staggeringly expensive—Swiss-made furniture here, and a gigantic, opulent chandelier hanging from the ceiling, glittering overhead.
Taking the seat at the head of a large marble dining table, Lee Du-seok spoke, “Seeing as you brought your people along, it’s obviously not just a social visit…”
A moment of silence followed.
“I’m guessing you have a reason for coming.”
Director Choi hesitated for a while before speaking carefully.
“Teacher, I apologize for bringing this up so suddenly, but… we desperately need your help.”
“Help?” Lee Du-seok repeated, then made a slight gesture telling him to continue.
After some time:
“Hm,” Lee Du-seok grunted as he listened to the story—how Executive Director Park had secretly gone to Japan to complete the 10th-anniversary album for KOK; how he’d seemingly borne a grudge against Hyunseung and moved up KOK’s comeback to harm him; how, as a result, a debuting rookie singer was relegated to the opening slot on a music show without even a proper introduction.
“Fantastic,” Lee Du-seok said sarcastically, directing some criticism toward Director Choi. “You two still at each other’s throats like children?”
He was referring to Director Choi’s longtime feud with Executive Director Park, which had existed even before Lee Du-seok had retired. Yet, despite both men being well past fifty, they still acted like bitter rivals. He didn’t find it all that admirable.
“So, what exactly do you want me to do?”
Director Choi seemed flustered by Lee Du-seok’s cool response.
“You’re asking me for help with an internal company dispute?”
Silence again.
“You should handle that yourselves.”
“Teacher…”
“Been years since I retired, you know.”
With that, Lee Du-seok shifted his gaze to Hyunseung.
“And that young man over there—he doesn’t seem too desperate, either.”
He was referencing Hyunseung’s stoic expression. From the sound of it, Hyunseung stood to lose the most in this conflict, but he looked entirely unruffled, as if it were someone else’s problem.
Finally, Manager Kim nudged Hyunseung, prompting him to speak up.
“Well, sir, I have a motto that if the music’s truly good, it’ll shine on its own. Even if it were KOK or the Jade Emperor or the King of the Underworld making an album at the same time, a great song is a great song.”
“Oh, really?”
“And besides, we can’t exactly tell KOK they can’t work hard on their comeback. It’s not like me worrying or panicking is going to change anything, is it?”
Director Choi and Manager Kim both gave Hyunseung withering looks. They were practically ready to get on their knees and beg if necessary—yet here Hyunseung was, nonchalant.
But Lee Du-seok appeared quite pleased.
“I like your attitude.”
“…”
“Take note of that, you two,” he added, glancing at Director Choi and Manager Kim.
He was about to shift the topic when Hyunseung spoke again, this time more earnestly.
“That’s just my personal perspective. But in truth, sir, we do need your help. The rookie singer caught in the middle of this internal power struggle didn’t do anything wrong. If her upcoming single fails to succeed, she might never get another chance.”
Lee Du-seok said nothing, simply watching Hyunseung.
“She’s been a trainee for over six years, laying the groundwork bit by bit. From what I hear, you have substantial influence… so I was wondering if there might be a way to ensure she at least has a fair shot.”
“You say she’s been laying the groundwork…” Lee Du-seok echoed.
Hyunseung had chosen the term “laying the groundwork” after noticing the Go board and a few professional game records on the side table, implying the strategic nature of preparing carefully.
“Do you play Go?” he asked.
“A little,” Hyunseung replied.
“Well, that’s convenient.”
Lee Du-seok made a sudden proposal.
“How about we settle this over a game of Go?”
Hyunseung looked at him calmly.
“You want to bet the future of a not-yet-bloomed rookie on a Go match?”
The old man narrowed his eyes.
“You’ve got a knack for sharp words, don’t you? Maybe it’s a big deal to you, but for me, it’s just a friendly wager to decide whether I should get involved at all.”
Then he smiled broadly.
“So what’s it going to be? Shall we play, or are you just going to eat dinner and leave?”
A tense silence followed as Director Choi bit his lower lip nervously.
Lee Du-seok was a longtime Go enthusiast. He was skilled enough to occasionally invite professional Go players to his home for a match. Even Director Choi had once spent years learning Go from him and had gained a lot—from bonding with the man to picking up business tips.
Director Choi felt certain Hyunseung would lose.
In the midst of the heavy atmosphere, Hyunseung let out a quiet breath.
“So as long as I don’t lose, we’ll be fine?”
“Sounds like you’re pretty confident,” Lee Du-seok said with a spark of interest.
“It’s like they say: ‘Seeing is believing.’”
Hyunseung set aside his spoon and stood.
“Let’s do it. Let’s play Go.”
And so, with a Go board placed between them, Lee Du-seok and Hyunseung took their seats, ready to begin.
“You won’t need to draw for color; I’ll let you take black,” Lee Du-seok offered graciously.
“No, I prefer a fair method,” Hyunseung said.
Intrigued, the older man cocked an eyebrow.
“Very well.”
He picked out a single white stone while Hyunseung scooped up a small handful of black stones. They compared counts—and it turned out Hyunseung would be black anyway.
“Guess we didn’t need to do that,” Lee Du-seok commented.
“But now you can’t say anything about it later.”
“Heh. So how many handicap stones do you need?”
“Let’s play an even game,” Hyunseung replied immediately.
“You want to play me without a handicap?”
“I like it fair, remember?”
Chuckling, Lee Du-seok nodded. “Confident young man.”
“You flatter me.”
“So I get the usual komi for playing white?”
“Of course.”
The young composer spoke with such composure, it piqued Lee Du-seok’s curiosity. He sensed this was going to be a very entertaining game. Meanwhile, Director Choi and Manager Kim watched anxiously from the side.
“All right,” Hyunseung said, gently placing his first black stone on the board.
Tap.
Just from his posture and steady hand, he looked like he’d played at a Go club more than once.
“Ooh…”
Director Choi and Manager Kim let out small sounds of admiration—at least he seemed to know what he was doing.
Tap, tap.
Tap, tap.
In silence, the game unfolded.
“Manager Kim,” Director Choi asked quietly, “do you know much about Go?”
“Not in detail.”
“Then don’t get your hopes up.”
Director Choi was convinced Hyunseung would lose. From the looks of it, Hyunseung was taking his time on each move, as though deeply reading the board—but that alone wouldn’t be enough against someone of Lee Du-seok’s caliber. Lee didn’t seem to hesitate at all, placing stones with the confidence of someone who already saw every possible sequence.
But as the match progressed, Director Choi’s eyes went wide.
Tap, tap…
The pace quickened.
And soon, the roles reversed entirely.
“…Hmm,” Lee Du-seok murmured, slowing down his moves while Hyunseung steadily took control of the board.
He’s pulling off some brilliant tactics… Director Choi thought. It was as if Hyunseung could see several moves ahead, carefully placing his black stones where they needed to be, fulfilling each move’s purpose flawlessly.
After several intense hours, the game reached its conclusion.
Tap.
Lee Du-seok placed the last stone.
“Director,” Manager Kim whispered, “what just happened?”
“Hang on,” Director Choi replied, squinting at the board and muttering calculations under his breath.
Eventually he exhaled heavily.
“Close…but it’s over.”
It had been a fierce match, but—
“How unfortunate,” he said.
It was an extremely narrow loss—for Hyunseung. He’d lost by only half a point.
“So Hyunseung lost, right?” asked Manager Kim.
Director Choi nodded with regret. “Just barely…”
He’d gotten his hopes up at the end, thinking Hyunseung might pull off an upset—but realistically, beating Lee Du-seok would be a tall order.
“Looks like I lost,” Hyunseung said calmly to Lee Du-seok. “Thank you for the lesson.”
Then he added, his tone oddly significant, “And since I lost…”
Manager Kim and Director Choi heaved simultaneous sighs, already anticipating the worst.
“Pfft—!”
Much to their surprise, Lee Du-seok suddenly let out a chortle, which exploded into hearty laughter.
“Ha! I didn’t see that coming!”
Manager Kim and Director Choi looked back and forth between him and Hyunseung, confused.
“Teacher, what… do you mean?” Director Choi ventured cautiously.
“I won, but I was completely beaten,” Lee Du-seok said, still smiling.
“You…won, but you lost?”
“That’s right. Where on earth did you find this young man?”
Ignoring the question, Lee Du-seok snapped photos of the final board position as if he couldn’t let it go unrecorded.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been dominated in a game like that. I need to save this.”
After taking several photos, he looked up at Hyunseung. The young man had started slow, making unhurried and seemingly clumsy moves that lulled him into complacency, only to explode into rapid skirmishes later—turning the tables with startling momentum. Then, in the end, Hyunseung had deliberately lost by a slim half-point margin, even though he was playing black without conceding any handicap.
In other words, although Lee Du-seok had technically “won,” he felt it was no real victory. On the contrary, he’d realized just how vast the skill gap was between them.
“Hah… He really gave me a thrashing.”
With that, Lee Du-seok opened a nearby drawer.
Rattle.
He pulled out a thick notebook.
“Does winning or losing even matter now? The game was so eye-opening.”
At these words, Director Choi and Director Kim looked on with rising anticipation.
“All right, I promised, didn’t I? I’ll lend you my support.”
Director Choi glanced sideways at the notebook in his hands and gulped.
That must be…
An address book packed with the phone numbers of top predators in the “concrete jungle” that was the entertainment industry.
“Let’s see…”
As he flipped through the pages, he suddenly paused and looked around at them.
“But listen,” he said, and silence settled over the room, “even if I throw my weight behind this rookie, there’s no guarantee things will work out, right? Not that I think it’ll fail—just that the entertainment world isn’t always so straightforward.”
He gave a small sigh.
“And on top of that, we’ve got Geun-sik and… what’s his name again? Park In-tae? You’ve got your power struggle going on. If that rookie doesn’t make any waves despite all my backing…”
There was a brief lull in conversation as he continued flipping pages.
“…Will the former CEO resent me, or will he resent you—the ones who came tattling to a retired old man about your internal family feud and still failed to produce results?”
His penetrating gaze landed on Director Choi.
“You did come here prepared to take that level of responsibility, right?”
At that moment, Hyunseung responded in Director Choi’s place.
“Of course. So please, sir, keep your promise, too.”
Lee Du-seok snorted. “You brat. I said I would, didn’t I?”
He might call people “brat” or “kid,” but Director Choi—knowing him well—was startled by how warm his tone was toward Hyunseung. Regardless, it seemed all the problems had been resolved in one stroke.
“Teacher, it’s getting late. We brought a small gift in the trunk, so we’ll just drop it off and head out—”
“Gift? No need!” Lee Du-seok cut him off, unexpectedly raising his voice.
“Pardon?”
“Whatever you brought, I don’t want it.” He paused, then added something unexpected.
“But there is something else you can do…”
His gaze fixed on Hyunseung.
“This fellow—Min Hyunseung.”
Hyunseung looked over, not sure what to expect.
“Yes?”
“Well, would you mind dropping by once in a while…to play Go?”
He grinned broadly.
“That’d be the best gift I could get.”
Hyunseung answered without much thought, “Sure, that’s not a problem.”
For reference, Hyunseung had never made many friends and spent most of his time indoors—at home or in the studio. Aside from music or gaming, another of his lifelong hobbies was board games like Go, checkers, and chess. The only reason he’d drifted away from these hobbies in the past was that he’d had no worthy opponents.
Obviously, Lee Du-seok knew none of that. But unintentionally, Hyunseung had gained a formidable ally—through none other than his skill at Go.
Ahbang Palace / Epang Palace [阿房宮] is a legendary imperial palace from ancient China, often associated with the Qin Dynasty.
Go is a simple yet deep strategy board game that originated in ancient China. The aim is to control more territory on the board than your opponent by surrounding empty areas with your stones.
If you haven’t already, go watch/read Hikaru no Go. <3 It’s a masterpiece.
Leave a Reply