“Another dud today…?”
For more than a week, Gye Jin-seong had been “clocking in” at the LS Entertainment building, day after day.
Seated comfortably at the first-floor café area as though it were his own living room, sipping a coffee, he suddenly spotted a familiar face:
“Oh—?!”
Far off in the distance was Kim Woohyun, a Manager. Out of all the staffers at LS Entertainment with real pull, he was one of the top ones.
“Manager Kim! Where are you headed?”
The problem was…
“You’ve got the wrong person…”
The man in question clearly didn’t share Gye Jin-seong’s enthusiasm. He turned away and vanished in a flash.
“Hey, wait up! Just a second!”
And so began a little pursuit.
“I can make your life difficult if I start talking, you know!”
That made Kim abruptly stop in his tracks.
“Not long ago, you must’ve had a certain incident with one of your Team 2 kids, no? Mind if I discuss that out loud here…?”
One of the Team 2 idol group leaders had been investigated for attempted purchase of marijuana—not actually smoking it, just “buying attempt.” Even if Kim didn’t personally manage that idol, it was a fiasco that cost him years of stress. The company had managed to hush it up quietly, but apparently, true to his nasty nickname “Gae Jin-sang,” Gye Jin-seong had gotten hold of it. The consequences of letting him walk away might be unpredictable, so Kim had no choice but to stop.
“Haa, damn it—”
Finally, Kim halted and sighed:
“Let’s go smoke a cigarette.”
Reluctantly, he made the offer. Gye Jin-seong gave a sly grin:
“I always found the cigarettes up on the LS building’s rooftop taste the best.”
At one point, Gye Jin-seong had fantasized about where to plant a bug inside a management company building if he could get away with it. Sure, actually doing it would land him behind bars, but in his mind he’d considered it. The place he chose?
The smoking area.
He reasoned that all sorts of topics that could rock not only the entertainment headlines but even the 9 o’clock news get discussed spontaneously in the smoking space. That’s why even now, chatting on the rooftop with Manager Kim, both ears were perked up.
“Hey, are you even listening—?”
“Yes, yes. I’m fully focused.”
“Then respond once in a while.”
“Uh, what was that you just said?”
“There, you weren’t listening!”
Kim Woo-hyeon narrowed his eyes, annoyed.
“So how did you find out about that, anyway?”
Gye Jin-seong replied:
“Same as usual. I caught a whiff, pestered the police, the prosecution, day and night, spent my after-work hours back and forth between them… raising hell.”
“Quite impressive.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I do it all for the people’s right to know. Entertainment reporters don’t have ‘quitting time.’ When I die, I’ll definitely go to heaven. Don’t you agree, Manager?”
Kim scrunched his face.
“What do you want?”
If a reporter like Gye Jin-seong was sitting on a big story and not publishing it, he obviously intended to use it as leverage for “something bigger.” Which meant he had come here to hint at the story while negotiating for what he wanted.
Gye Jin-seong flashed a grin:
“I like how straightforward you are, Manager.”
“Just say what info you want.”
“Nah, it’s nothing complicated…”
A pause.
“Let me meet HS once.”
Kim nearly choked, coughing and spewing out the acrid cigarette smoke.
“Cough, cough… Are you serious?”
“Why so shocked? All I want is a short sit-down interview. That’s hardly some huge request.”
From Gye Jin-seong’s perspective, the entire company was strangely secretive whenever the topic of “HS” came up. Why? Was the composer a criminal? Or some ex-artiste who quit in disgrace and returned under a pseudonym? He really couldn’t figure it out.
“Why HS?”
“Because I’m a fan.”
“Ha, damn it, you sure….”
“No, really, I am a fan.”
He pressed the point.
“After hearing that new album, I became a total fan. I’m sure you folks are trying to keep him hidden for reasons I don’t get, but shouldn’t you want publicity? Especially now that Jayble’s the direct chart rival…?”
But Kim stared at him suspiciously.
“You act so cagey. Are you sure HS isn’t an ex-con or something? Some old composer that left the scene under a cloud, now rebranding with a new name?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then I’ll write a good article. Let me have a short interview. I’m offering an easy solution. Why so reluctant?”
Kim bit his lip, torn.
Damn…
Sure, the reporter’s offer made sense in normal circumstances. If it were any other subject, Kim might have done it. But this was Hyunseung. He was sure Hyunseung would freak out and refuse.
“He’s not big on media appearances. I can’t guarantee anything.”
Gye Jin-seong retorted.
“Then do I have to leak that some underage idol leader from Team 2 was arrested for attempting to buy weed and is awaiting sentencing? If that’s exposed, the group’s basically done for. The other members are out of luck, too. Right?”
Well, that culprit idol was insane. He’d slaved away in the basement practice room until they finally started seeing the light, then as soon as he got some fame and money, he turned to drugs. That fiasco explained why Kim was so protective of Hyunseung: sure, Hyunseung might be rude, but at least he wasn’t messing around with drugs.
Kim barked.
“Stop pissing me off and get to the point.”
“Just try asking him. One interview to hush up this story—what’s there to lose? Isn’t it me who’s giving you a great deal?”
And indeed, from Kim’s viewpoint, this was suspiciously “too good.” A hardened “pitbull journalist” wouldn’t do that purely out of fan-spirit. But Kim hesitated, caught. Then the reporter added:
“I think long-term. If I rehash a hush-hush scandal and pick a fight with a big label like LS, it just makes my life harder. It’s not that I can’t publish, but I’d rather keep things friendly.”
He patted Kim’s shoulder.
“So you owe me one, right?”
Kim exhaled.
“Fine, I’ll try.”
Then firmly said, “But if he says no, that’s it. I’ll let you know, so please stop lurking around the building for now.”
Kim turned to leave. Behind him, Gye Jin-seong called.
“Aw, Manager, you do like me, don’t you? If the man himself refuses, I guess it’s okay for me to publish, yeah?”
It was borderline blackmail. Kim halted again, glared back.
“Sure, go ahead— publish it, then.”
“Uh…?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
It was a serious matter, but it wasn’t Hyunseung’s fault. If it was anyone else, Kim might have forced them into an interview. But not with Hyunseung. If Hyunseung didn’t want it, so be it.
“I said I’ll talk to him. If he says no, I can’t force him. Then do what you will. But cut it out with the annoying intimidation—”
He muttered “Damn pest…” and stomped away into the stairwell.
“Heh…”
Left alone, Gye Jin-seong clapped his hands softly, repeating Kim’s last words ironically.
“Damn pest, huh…”
Yes, LS was unusually tough to deal with. The big decision-makers—CEO, directors, managers—none were pushovers. That idol’s near drug bust was still hush-hush. Gye Jin-seong sighed.
“Wow, that man has got some aura…!”
Anyway, all he could do was wait now.
“Sure, that’s fine.”
That was Hyunseung’s response when Kim told him about the interview.
“I just won’t show my face, right?”
“Yeah, but still…”
“Plenty of folks appear on TV for promotions, don’t they?”
At least they’d avert a huge scandal. The problem came the day of the interview.
After a brief ring, Hyunseung picked up with his usual carefree tone:
“Hello?”
“Where are you? It’s chaos here!”
“Huh?”
“That jerk reporter’s been fuming in the conference room over two hours, yelling about not being some rookie that can be ‘tamed.’ So hurry over!”
After hanging up, Kim stared at the phone display, where he’d saved Hyunseung as “Gemstone.1”
He sighed, hoping Hyunseung could handle it well.
Hyunseung hadn’t really wanted to do interviews. He’d vowed never to appear before the public again. But he accepted because Kim had looked truly desperate. He could guess it was one of those nasty behind-the-scenes entanglements—he knew how the entertainment world worked. So he’d said yes. Yet somehow the day arrived with him unprepared. The reporter had waited two hours already, and Hyunseung had zero disguise—no hat, no mask.
He glanced around his studio for something to hide his face, found nothing, and headed out.
“Huh.”
He shrugged. If the reporter had waited two hours, a bit longer was no big deal. He decided to nip over to a nearby store to buy a hat. Just as he entered the elevator:
“Oh?”
The doors slid open, revealing a delivery driver inside.
“Pardon me, but would you sell me your helmet?”
“Huh? Why would I sell it?”
“Let’s talk price.”
A pause:
“How much?”
“A hundred thousand won.”
“No way.”
The driver frowned:
“We have crackdowns these days… I need my helmet to work.”
“Two hundred.”
“It’s not about money.”
“Two-fifty.”
“I said no.”
“Three hundred.”
“Money can’t buy everything, you know!”
Another silence:
“Aren’t you going any higher?”
“Two ninety.”
“Why lower?”
“Time is money.”
Hyunseung began counting down:
“Two eighty… two seventy… two sixty…”
Alarmed, the driver shouted:
“Three hundred! Fine, your original three hundred it is!”
He had wanted to scold Hyunseung for believing money could buy anything, but 300,000 won was more than enough. For the driver, that helmet was like a badge of pride. But that was enough money to overcome his pride.
“All right, take it then.”
“Smart choice.”
Hyunseung took out six crisp 50,000-won bills and handed them over.
“Yes, sir,” the driver said, bowing stiffly:
“Hope you have a pleasant day. Wishing you all the best.”
And thus, it was a transaction that left mostly everyone happy.
- (금쪽이 / geum-jjok-i means “precious one,” “gemstone.”) ↩︎
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