Dan-A (端雅)
A traditional Korean fine dining restaurant that earned three Michelin stars just two years after its famous chef opened it. It operates on a reservation-only basis.
It’s reputed to be the most expensive spot in Seoul, yet reservations are fully booked a year in advance—it’s always a full house.
“We’ll bring out the food shortly.”
After placing a simple appetizer on the table, the server carefully left the private dining room. Here, each guest has a private suite, offering maximum privacy—precisely why it’s so popular among celebrities, athletes, influencers, and the like.
“Let’s eat slowly and enjoy, shall we?”
CEO Jeon picked up his salad at just the right moment.
“Hyunseung, I’m not sure if it’ll suit your taste.”
“I’m fine. I’m not picky about food.”
After that brief exchange, the two ate in silence. Whenever a lull set in, a server would enter with the next dish, and the clink of plates and utensils filled the room.
Before long, it was time for the main course: two small slices of dry-aged 1++ Korean beef sirloin, set rather modestly on a plate bigger than an adult male’s palm.
“By the way…”
The CEO finally spoke up.
“I hear there’s been some infighting among our people over territory and resources.”
Hyunseung paused in mid-cut, setting down his fork and knife.
“All we did was defend ourselves.”
“Defend yourselves…?”
“We couldn’t just stand by and take it.”
He added: “And honestly, it was just a trivial dispute that could happen anywhere.”
The CEO asked in a calm tone: “Is that an excuse?”
“More like an explanation.”
“I’m not too concerned about it.”
The CEO wiped his mouth with a napkin and spoke in a low voice,
“If things had gone badly, I’d have held people accountable. But in the end, both sides got decent results, so there’s no reason for repercussions, is there?”
Hyunseung narrowed his eyes.
I had a feeling before, but…
This CEO truly seemed the type to focus purely on “results.” As if as long as it benefited him, he didn’t much care for the means.
“What’s interesting, though…”
He lifted his chopsticks once more.
“I received a phone call from Teacher Lee Du-seok.”
Hyunseung responded calmly,
“Yes, he was kind enough to help us.”
The CEO’s voice grew quieter.
“He’s not the sort to give out help so easily…”
“Is that so?”
“Makes me wonder what exactly you did to persuade him.”
His voice brimmed with curiosity. The CEO already had a broad grasp of what had happened. Within the company—and even the industry—there was little that escaped his notice. He knew Lee Du-seok had exerted influence on Jung Arin’s debut stage. Moreover, Lee Du-seok rarely called anyone first; yet this time, he did so personally.
And at the end of that call, he’d told the CEO:
“Keep an eye on Min Hyunseung.”
“That kid…”
“He’s got something special.”
For Jeon Nam-il, Lee Du-seok had been not just a mentor but practically a father figure—someone whose praise was exceedingly rare. The fact that Lee Du-seok singled out Hyunseung for such praise only deepened the CEO’s curiosity.
Just then, Hyunseung took a sip of water, carefully set down his glass, and said,
“I’m not entirely sure, but…”
He paused briefly.
“It seems he enjoyed our Go match quite a bit.”
The CEO, intrigued, repeated, “Go match?”
“Yes, I played a bet game of Go with him.”
Jeon Nam-il suddenly recalled something from the distant past.
He remembered bowing his head to Lee Du-seok when founding LS Entertainment:
“Teacher, please help me.”
But Lee Du-seok—who hated being tied down by anything—repeatedly refused. Desperate, the CEO kept begging and begging, until finally—
“Fine, let’s settle it with a bet at Go.”
They agreed that if Jeon Nam-il won, Lee Du-seok would help him.
I lost so many times back then…
He smiled faintly at the memory. The hardships of the past were now distant nostalgia.
He lost repeatedly and never truly won. In the final match, he “won” by half a point—but that half-point victory was obviously a deliberate concession by Lee Du-seok.
“Seems he let me win that time…”
“All right, I can’t beat that young stubbornness.”
“A promise is a promise.”
Likewise, had the old teacher deliberately “let” Hyunseung win?
“Did you win by any chance?”
“No, I lost.”
Jeon Nam-il tilted his head in confusion.
“I lost by half a point—very narrowly.”
The CEO frowned for a moment, then let a smile spread across his face.
He’s an intriguing guy.
If Lee Du-seok had discovered something in Hyunseung worth praising, then Hyunseung was all the more valuable.
“I hear you’re somewhat dissatisfied with your current contract terms?”
Hyunseung gave a mild shrug.
“Yes, I’d say so.”
He had already signed a deal close to that of an established in-house composer. But considering the sort of treatment he’d enjoyed in his past life, any contract would feel lacking.
“This is a gesture of sincerity from the company.”
The CEO took out a thick envelope bearing the LS Entertainment logo. Inside were A4 pages stacked together—a revised contract.
“We’ve drafted an updated contract for you with improved terms across the board. And we’ll apply those improvements retroactively to the period before the new contract goes into effect, so your upcoming royalties will reflect these changes.”
Hyunseung smiled, intrigued.
“This isn’t very common, is it?”
Renegotiating a contract mid-term was already rare—extending it retroactively was almost unheard of. It wasn’t as if there was a legal requirement to do so, meaning no one would expect or demand it.
“Well, the results you’ve produced aren’t exactly common either.”
“I’m grateful you see it that way.”
As he skimmed the contract, Hyunseung chuckled quietly.
They really put some thought into this.
He’d received countless contracts in his previous life, but this one from the CEO himself was particularly favorable. Perhaps a bit too favorable.
Was there some hidden agenda—did they intend to keep him close at any cost? Clearly the CEO knew how to handle a goose that laid golden eggs, which was part of why LS had thrived.
Even in his previous life, LS was always among the country’s top three agencies. Though Hyunseung hadn’t been close to the CEO, he’d heard plenty of praise for the man’s business acumen. This must have been how he built LS into such an industry powerhouse.
“I’ll review it carefully and give the signed copy to Manager Kim.”
It wasn’t as though he suspected any tricks—but still, he wouldn’t sign anything without reading it properly.
“Yes, by all means.”
The CEO lifted a small ceramic flask of alcohol.
“Let’s have a drink first.”
He personally poured liquor into the cup.
“We should do lunch together like this from time to time.”
Hyunseung turned and drank from the cup, then answered,
“Sure, sounds good.”
Even though the CEO appeared friendly now, Hyunseung didn’t fully trust him. In this concrete jungle known as the entertainment world, there were no “forever friends” or “forever foes.” His experience told him there was no such thing as purely “good” or “bad” people; everything depended on circumstances.
The CEO was no exception. Even if he currently seemed supportive, that could change if and when circumstances changed. If such a day came, by then they’d likely be enemies. Certainly, that day would come only after they’d classified each other as adversaries.
After lunch, Hyunseung headed through the lobby with a takeaway coffee from the building’s café. He’d noticed since the previous day that people in the lobby were giving him peculiar looks, as though they were drilling holes in the back of his head with their eyes.
“Min Hyunseung!”
He heard someone calling him.
“Hey, you! Ah…”
It was Manager Kim, who trailed off as soon as Hyunseung turned around. He grabbed Hyunseung by the arm and led him away.
“Let’s talk in your studio. Not here.”
Creak—
The moment they entered Hyunseung’s workroom, Manager Kim started talking as though bursting at the seams.
“So I heard you drank with the CEO until your tongues were practically tied last night?”
“What? Me?”
“Word is you drank until the restaurant was out of booze—going at it from broad daylight on!”
“What the…?”
At this point, Hyunseung thought he understood how rumors and legends inflated over time. Likely, some people had spotted him riding in the CEO’s car and exaggerated the story.
This is so far off from the truth…
He ran a hand down his face, too exasperated to respond properly.
“So you do look worn out this morning, huh? Must be true. Right? Right!”
“Come on. All I did was have a simple lunch with him.”
“Dude, just having a meal with the CEO is a huge deal!”
“Listening to you, I might as well have had lunch with an emperor.”
Manager Kim sighed at Hyunseung’s indifferent attitude. For all the years he’d worked at LS, he’d never eaten one-on-one with the CEO. That was something only top executives got to do. To some, it would be a career highlight, but Hyunseung didn’t seem to care.
“So what’d you two talk about?”
“Just that we’d get together for lunch again sometime…”
“Wow, he really must like you.”
“It seems that way.”
“I heard they also improved your contract terms?”
“Even that’s out there already?”
Manager Kim smirked.
“News travels fast around here…like it’s gone all the way to Jeju Island.”
“Who in Jeju—”
“Kidding. It just means everyone’s heard it by now.”
“Your jokes aren’t getting any better.”
Manager Kim mumbled “Whatever,” then continued,
“Anyway, you’re in my clutches now.”
He plopped onto the sofa.
“By the way, first payday’s coming up. Any plans on how to use it?”
A typical guy his age might talk about buying a nice car, a fancy watch, something like that…
“I’m looking for a new place to live.”
Surprised, Manager Kim repeated,
“A new place?”
He asked jokingly,
“What, you don’t want a fancy car or a watch?”
“Don’t need ‘em.”
“That’s unexpected. What about investing or something?”
“No interest.”
“But you liked that ‘no-money investment’ stuff…didn’t you?”
Hyunseung blinked.
“Huh? Oh, I’m not into that anymore.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was just…”
He thought about explaining that his so-called “no-money investment” had really been about in-game transactions, but before he could:
“Didn’t work out, huh?”
Hyunseung hesitated, then said,
“Yeah, it gave me headaches.”
Manager Kim didn’t realize that Hyunseung was referring to the online simulation game “Animal’s Island,” which had recently ended its run. He’d tanked badly in his game-based “investments,” so he didn’t want to see that game ever again.
“So, what about renting or buying? Monthly or full lump-sum deposit?”
“I’m looking for a lump-sum rental.”
“Got it. Let me come with you when you sign the lease.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m not a kid.”
“A grown-up should be there for that.”
“I am grown up.”
Hyunseung sighed lightly. He understood Manager Kim was simply worried because, well, Hyunseung looked young.
“I’m definitely coming. I’ll rearrange my schedule.”
“No, seriously, it’s okay.”
“Tsk, just listen for once.”
But Manager Kim’s worry was unnecessary. In his previous life, Hyunseung had been a real estate wiz. In fact, after some success in music, he’d invested heavily in real estate, netting astronomical sums from savvy deals. Rumor even had it he owned much of the land in Yongsan.
Still, he couldn’t exactly share this with Manager Kim.
“All right, all right, do whatever you want.”
“Say ‘Thank you for helping me out!’”
“Yes, thank you so much…!”
Though it was a bit of a nuisance, having someone who genuinely cared wasn’t so bad, either.
With Manager Kim’s nominal help, Hyunseung swiftly sealed the deal on a new apartment. As expected Manager Kim didn’t contribute much beyond moral support, but it was oddly reassuring to have an older ally negotiating things like fresh wallpaper, new door handles, or lower fees. Plus, he promised to help order furniture and arrange movers.
“Trust me, I’ll take care of everything.”
“Do you usually do this sort of thing for your artists?”
“Am I crazy? I’m just a manager, not a road manager.”
“But really, are you sure it’s okay to leave it all to you?”
Manager Kim had also arranged for Hyunseung to take a short family trip to Japan, telling him:
“Go enjoy the trip with your family.”
Hyunseung planned to show them his new place after the trip—a surprise.
As he mulled it over,
“Hey, big bro. This is your first time going abroad, right?”
His younger sister Hyuna poked him in the side, noticing his excitement.
“First time? Oh, right.”
Not the first in reality, but technically first in this life.
“I’m so nervous. I hope I didn’t forget to pack anything…”
“It’s just two nights and three days. You don’t need that much stuff.”
“Ugh, slow down!”
The airport was teeming with travelers, and Hyuna was struggling to keep up with their father, worried about losing him in the crowd. Hyunseung matched pace with their dad, who was looking around in wonder, heading for the business lounge.
“Hyuna, from here we have to take our shoes off.”
“I looked all this up online!”
“You did? You sure you looked carefully?”
“Yes!”
Hyunseung shook his head.
“That might apply to domestic flights. This is an international flight.”
“Huh?”
“Americans wear shoes indoors, right?”
“Uh…?”
“Haven’t you seen any American TV shows? They don’t take their shoes off, even lying on beds.”
“N-no…?”
“This is basically the same thing.”
There was zero logic in what he said, but…
“Oh, I didn’t know. I guess I should’ve researched more thoroughly…”
Just as Hyuna started to slip off her shoes:
—Hyuna, why are you taking off your shoes?
Their father spotted them, startled. She hurriedly signed back,
Oppa said we have to…
No, put your shoes back on, quick!
Seeing this, Hyunseung couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“Hyuna, how can you be so naive?”
“You tricked me!”
“Shh, we have to be quiet in the airport.”
Hyuna glanced around nervously.
“Uh, right…”
Hyunseung helped her slip her shoes back on, then continued on.
“Hello, thank you for choosing Korean Air.”
Following the flight attendant’s lead, Hyunseung made his way to their reserved business seats. Hyuna and their father exchanged polite bows with the flight attendants more than once before finally sitting.
“Wow!”
Hyuna gawked at the plane’s interior. Moments later:
“Oppa! Oppa! Let’s order in-flight meals!”
“Airplane meals?”
“They have both Korean and Western options! And there’s ramen too?”
She began muttering excitedly while flipping through the menu.
“Hey, Hyuna, do you have any cash on you?”
“Cash?”
“I forgot to withdraw money. And you can’t pay with a card on the plane.”
Hyuna’s face fell.
“So… we can’t eat anything?”
“Well, you could ask the flight attendant if you can pay when we land. I know some airlines let you settle after, but I’m not sure about this one.”
“Okay, I’ll ask!”
She marched off to speak with a flight attendant. Then:
“Ugh, Hyunseung—!”
He put a finger to his lips.
“You’ve gotta keep it down on the plane.”
Suddenly, the pilot announced they were beginning takeoff. Hyuna froze mid-stride, and their father also looked tense. But once they were airborne, Hyuna was back to pressing her face against the window.
“Oppa, look at the clouds.”
On the other side, their father was silently watching a foreign movie with subtitles.
This is surreal…
Hyunseung glanced at his sister, his father, and then out the window at the sky. In his previous life, he’d traveled the whole world alone but never even took a simple trip with his family. He’d always used being busy as an excuse, or felt awkward, and ended up distancing himself—immersed in work while living in isolation.
Why did I do that…?
Regret washed over him. Still, he’d been given a second chance.
I’ve gotta do better from now on.
As the airplane climbed higher and higher, he felt as though his life was rising along with it.
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