Inside a lavishly lit banquet hall, where a dazzling chandelier shone brightly:
Clink!
People in formal attire gathered in small groups, clinking their champagne glasses together. It was a gathering held each quarter for well-known domestic composers to socialize. Though well-intentioned in theory, it had long since degenerated into a place where composers who’d already made a name for themselves shared info to avoid overlapping release schedules.
“Who do we have here?”
Because of that…
“Jayble, let’s share a drink.”
Wherever Jayble went—the highest-profile composer among those actively working—he was surrounded by people.
“I hear rumors you’ll be dropping a personal album soon?”
“Could you clue us in on your release date?”
“Right, we need to know when, so we can dodge it.”
Jayble responded with his usual relaxed smile, raising his champagne.
“Well, I am working on something…”
Word had spread industry-wide that he’d be releasing a personal album around the year’s end, and other composers—convinced they couldn’t compete—were scrambling to postpone their releases. A simple matter of self-preservation.
Then again…
Truth be told, Jayble was never much interested in these gatherings, nor was he particularly attached to the composers he’d see here. Before long, he slowly swirled the champagne in his glass and spoke:
“But the exact date’s not set, so sorry about that.”
The others forced polite smiles.
“No worries. No need to apologize between friends.” “Right, it’s not your fault.” “But do let us know once you pick a date!”
Standing nearby was Goh Sang-jun, who grimaced inwardly.
This jerk is obviously finished with his album. He’s just pretending otherwise.
He’d already suspended release plans for his own project upon hearing Jayble would drop something soon, figuring Jayble must have at least a rough schedule in mind. Seeing him play innocent irritated Goh so much he wanted to dump champagne on him.
Such a cunning fox, trying to hog it all…
Stifling those thoughts, Goh Sang-jun spoke up:
“Jayble, have you heard of this up-and-coming HS? Don’t you think it’s time we invited him to our group?”
He was deliberately mentioning the hot new composer to ruffle Jayble’s feathers. Others around them began murmuring:
“Oh, I’ve heard of him too—he had back-to-back hits with Seojiny, Jung Arin, and Gong Hyo-joo, right?”
“Hits, yes, but also these days you can’t walk ten steps in Japan without hearing one of Seojiny’s songs.”
“I heard that HS personally discovered and debuted Jung Arin…?”
Jayble’s eyebrow twitched. HS. Anyone in the scene would know that name by now. A new composer who’d seemingly appeared out of nowhere earlier this year, and a real threat to any composer paying attention. Rumors swirled everywhere; people were desperate for any scoop on his next move.
“HS…”
Jayble repeated the name as he took a swig of champagne.
Gulp, gulp—.
Then, as always, he cast it from his mind. Sometimes the success or failure of a song hinged on luck and timing. Jayble had never failed. He possessed an innate gift for composition, luck always on his side, and widespread public attention. He considered no one his rival.
He could guess why Goh Sang-jun had tossed out HS’s name: a petty attempt to provoke him. It made him smirk inwardly, plotting how to throw Goh off.
“You’re right, Sang-jun. Good point.”
He clapped Goh Sang-jun lightly on the shoulder, sporting a taunting smile.
“From what I hear, he’s better than you anyway, so he’s qualified enough.”
Goh’s face twisted.
This bastard…
Of course, Jayble had no idea if HS’s songs were “better” than Goh’s—he hadn’t even listened to either. Goh knew it was all a cheap shot. That only made it sting more.
Raising his champagne, Jayble surveyed the group:
“So, you guys are fine with adding that composer to our membership, right?”
Clink—!
Once again, their glasses met midair. Goh just ground his teeth, silently glowering at Jayble.
Meanwhile, Manager Kim was wandering the company’s corridors, deep in thought.
Tap, tap—
No matter what he said, Hyunseung insisted on timing his album to coincide with Jayble’s release. Ever since, Hyunseung had locked himself away, pouring every waking hour into final polishing. Kim had no idea why he insisted on such a course. The executive suite had already signed off, so there was no stopping it.
“Haah…”
He felt as though dealing with Hyunseung was aging him prematurely. Just then, voices reached his ears:
“Hey, did you hear? The CEO’s secretary took that memo from Man Records the other day—”
“Seriously? Then doesn’t that mean Exec Director Park’s snagging of that Team 2’s letter is exposed now?”
“Probably. The company’s vibe’s gonna be tense for a while. We’d better keep our heads down.”
They were from Management Team 1, sipping coffee at a vending machine. Kim almost laughed out loud.
So, if they were correct, Exec Dir Park had intercepted the memo from Man Records that was supposed to go to Team 2, and then boasted about it in the meeting as if it were Team 1’s initiative. Hilarious indeed.
Park was a rough, intimidating figure, but he had a knack for PR. Kim had assumed he’d established contact with Man Records via KOK’s success in Japan, but apparently not.
Of course…
Kim resolved to watch out for Park more carefully. He was about to leave when:
“I still don’t get it. Why would Man Records single out Team 2 specifically? It’s usually label-to-label, so—”
“Wasn’t it because of Seo Jini?”
“Because of Seo Jini? She’s big in Japan now, right?”
Then another coworker cut in:
“No, it’s probably because of that guy.”
Kim pricked up his ears.
“That guy? Are we dealing with someone besides Seo Jini who’s active in Japan?”
“You know—Team 2’s in-house composer. HS.”
That name again. Kim hung back to listen.
“He wrote her songs, right?”
“Yep, plus I heard he’s behind all those hits for Seo Jini Gong Hyo-joo, and Jung Arin. So maybe Man Records specifically wanted him.”
Kim’s hunch was confirmed. This entire fiasco arose because Man Records wanted to work with HS, not with the entire label. And by sheer accident, their official request ended up in Park’s hands. Meanwhile, the CEO had discovered it, demanded the original letter, and done nothing so far…
He must be giving Park a silent warning.
A single moment’s inattention, and they might’ve lost the chance at a huge Japanese partnership. Indeed, the CEO was known for using silence to intimidate. It was likely Park realized that. This was his “yellow card.”
Still, it all turned out well enough…
While Park might have avoided censure if the final result was positive, as things stood, he was definitely on thin ice.
Hyunseung, the very center of it all, had no clue a letter from Man Records had even arrived. Kim wanted to tell him right away, but the CEO had withheld it, presumably with reason. So he decided to wait.
But truly amazing…
HS was so reluctant to go public, yet just as that old saying about a needle in the pocket eventually poking through—he’d naturally been thrust into the spotlight. Man Records, famous for rarely dealing with outside composers, had sent him a direct love call. That was the definition of “some guys were just born to succeed.”
Kim recalled his first meeting with Hyunseung and smiled. Then his phone vibrated:
Bzzz—!
Reading the text, he grinned:
[Team Lead Han: Manager, Jayble’s release date is set!]
He wasn’t entirely sure why, but…
A little part of me thinks… maybe Hyunseung can beat him?
He felt an odd sense of anticipation. He was about to text Hyunseung for lunch when:
[Director Choi: Where are you?]
[Director Choi: Did Min Hyunseung make trouble again?]
[Director Choi: Why aren’t you answering?]
[Director Choi: I hear he’s going head-to-head with Jayble?]
[Director Choi: Emergency meeting. Get to the CEO’s office now.]
He didn’t even get a chance to respond before a string of new messages arrived.
What the…
Kim had repeated that question in his mind as he rushed to gather. He’d been planning a quiet lunch with Hyunseung, but after Director Choi’s urgent summons, he found himself in the CEO’s large conference room.
And not just him. Virtually every senior executive was here, with the CEO at the head of the table. Kim, sweating, realized this was effectively an entire top-level staff meeting.
Even more shocking: they’d gathered because of Hyunseung.
From Kim’s vantage point, he noticed Executive Director Park seated far from the CEO, slumped over. A highly unusual look for him. Kim recalled hearing from Team 1 employees that Park had been caught intercepting that memo. It made sense he’d keep a low profile now. The CEO was calling a meeting about HS’s album. Park must be dying inside.
For now, just keep your head down…
Kim suppressed a wry smile. Then the CEO began speaking with slow deliberation:
“You’ve likely all been told the topic. We’re here regarding HS’s personal album release schedule.”
His voice alone killed the low murmur in the room. Everyone fell silent, from the executives at the table to the CEO himself. The CEO continued:
“From what I hear, he wants to release it at the same time Jayble does. I tried talking to him personally, but it’s not easy to change his mind without offering a real alternative… I’d like to hear your thoughts.”
A hush followed.
“That’s far too reckless,” said Park reflexively. Sure, he’d recently gotten a reprimand from the CEO, but his opinion was asked for, and this was obviously a precarious idea. If Hyunseung clashed with Jayble and lost, it would be a fiasco. He wasn’t about to keep quiet.
Right on cue, Kang, an exec allied with Park, sniped at Kim:
“Hey, Manager Kim. You can’t keep some brat in line and ended up dragging all these big shots here?”
Kim bristled, leaning forward, but a large hand blocked him:
“Let’s keep personal matters out of it. I disagree with Exec Dir Park.”
This new voice belonged to the overall Production Planning Director, Lee Seong-han. He calmly met Park’s gaze, as well as the CEO’s.
“If he wins, great. If he loses, there’s still something to be gained. Based on his record so far, there’s plenty of reason to believe in his growth. And if we let him mature well, maybe he won’t think of leaving the nest.”
Park flared up, raising his voice.
“Director, why are you siding with him? He’s always stirring up trouble—wouldn’t it be better to knock him down a peg—?”
Director Choi, who’d always clashed with Park, interrupted:
“Exec Dir Park, profits are profits, but as the director said, we should keep future prospects—”
“Director Choi, maybe you coddling him is why he’s so out of control now!”
Park, unable to hold back, slammed both hands on the table. The tension soared. Others tried frantically to calm them, but they were already wound too tight.
“Seriously? After you got caught stealing memos, you still talk like that—?”
“You watch it!”
Their argument was degenerating into petty name-calling when:
Bang—!
The CEO slammed a hand down, speaking in a flat tone:
“Enough. This is a meeting, not a schoolyard.”
The imposing remark instantly cooled the air.
“I guess we won’t decide anything until we hear the track. Manager Kim?”
The CEO fixed Manager Kim with a look:
“I’d like to hear some of Min Hyunseung’s album tracks right now.”
All eyes turned to Kim. He forced down his nerves:
“Yes, sir. I’ll get A&R to bring a USB immediately.”
He quickly phoned the team lead, instructing him to hurry. He was drenched in sweat despite the chilly weather.
Knock, knock—
A timid knock, then a team lead stepped in, carefully placing a USB and a pair of wireless headphones on the conference table before bowing out.
Thank God he made it in time…
Kim discreetly wiped his brow:
“Would you like to listen on the headset, sir?”
“Yes, let’s do that.”
He plugged in the USB, handed the CEO the headphones, and overcame his trembling to press “play.”
Click—
The CEO closed his eyes. His expression was unreadable. For a moment, one eyebrow rose, but that was all. Time dragged. His fingers drummed the table at a set tempo. Finally:
Bang—
He set down the headphones with a sharp sound, then opened his eyes. Kim swallowed anxiously.
“This is a real problem.”
The CEO’s short comment made Exec Dir Park look hopeful—until the CEO continued:
“I feel bad for Min Hyunseung.”
With that, he locked eyes with Manager Kim:
“Kim, it might be… a winnable fight.”
As soon as he finished, the reactions around the room were mixed—some thrilled, some aghast.
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