“Director Choi, haven’t seen you around much these days, have I?”
From behind him early in the morning came a voice that was far from pleasant. Sensing the annoyance crawling up his spine, Director Choi immediately knew it was Executive Director Park.
Standing straight in front of the elevator, Director Choi turned his head, and sure enough, the man looming with a sly grin was Executive Director Park, easily twice his size.
“I’ve had a lot of external meetings lately, so I’ve been out of the office quite a bit.”
“What, do you think you’re the only one who’s busy? I have plenty of external meetings myself.”
When Executive Director Park said “external meetings,” he really meant golfing rounds.
Naturally, Director Choi was aware that these rounds were likely just lavish receptions intended to maintain good relations with certain outside companies. He knew that. What irked him most was how Executive Director Park was always on the receiving end of these pleasures.
Ding-dong—!
Just then, the elevator doors slid open, and Executive Director Park stepped inside first, taking a spot right in the center.
“Aren’t you getting on?”
“I am.”
Director Choi positioned himself beside him, adjusting the lapel of his coat. A quick sideways glance revealed Executive Director Park’s lips were poised to spew a flood of words.
Even without hearing them, Director Choi could guess they wouldn’t be nice.
“We nearly lost a valuable talent. Good thing that didn’t happen, eh?”
Of course…
“But that kid’s going to end up donating all the money he’s earned. What do you think about that?”
It was clear he was deliberately bringing up topics guaranteed to set one’s nerves on edge. The “kid” he referred to was Min Hyunseung. About three weeks ago, Hyunseung had proposed a retirement match, betting his track performance on the line, and Jayble had responded by setting a one-month time frame for a charity donation wager.
Now, with both locked in a race for the No. 1 spot, the final stretch was approaching fast, and Jayble seemed to have the upper hand. Sure, it wasn’t over till it was over, but Executive Director Park was talking as though Hyunseung’s defeat was a done deal.
“I saw this coming the moment they decided to line up their releases. All that talk about a ‘retirement match’—it was bound to stir up trouble. And if he ends up losing, that’ll inevitably reflect poorly on LS Entertainment’s reputation, don’t you think?”
Nothing he said was outright false, but every word came laced with malice. Resentment toward both Director Choi and Hyunseung had been simmering in him for quite some time, and it was starting to show.
“I’m saying this for his sake—if the results turn out the way I think, his market value drops, his credibility drops… He gains nothing from this.”
Director Choi simply stared at Executive Director Park’s lips as they flicked like a snake’s tongue. There was no one else in the elevator, yet watching him spout off so shamelessly, Choi felt it wasn’t even worth a reply. Yes, better to hold his tongue.
“It’s why he should have been more careful about what he said and did, but I guess he’s still too young. At this point, it’s not ambition; it’s just reckless bravado.”
Still, Director Choi wasn’t the type to let such an over-the-line remark go unchecked. Sure, Hyunseung wasn’t someone he’d personally discovered, but he was part of his team—and he hated it when his own people were attacked.
“Even so, a bit of bravado is still better than theft, wouldn’t you agree?”
“What? Theft? I told you, that was all to steer our company in a better—!”
“Who steals someone’s personal opportunities and rights ‘for the good of the company’? That’s what you call thievery.”
Executive Director Park’s lips twitched, then clamped shut. The elevator display showed that their floor was coming up, and since he cared a lot about his image, both inside and outside the company, he couldn’t afford to raise his voice now.
“And please, Executive Director Park, at least for the sake of decorum, let’s speak formally to each other within the company.”
After giving that firm admonition, Director Choi slipped out as soon as the doors opened and walked swiftly away. He heard Executive Director Park’s harsh tone calling “Director Choi!” from behind, but he ignored it. If he responded, it might devolve into the same sort of childish bickering that had happened during their last meeting.
“Director Choi, stop right there!”
He was about halfway down the hallway when Executive Director Park’s voice still clung to his ears, making him pause for a brief moment—just long enough for his phone to vibrate in his pants pocket.
Bzzzzt—!
He pulled out his phone, and at the same time, Executive Director Park also retrieved his from inside his jacket.
[Announcement to all executives: Please report to the CEO’s office immediately.]
It was a text from the CEO’s secretarial office.
“Hello. My name is Kim Sujin, and I’ll be serving as the interpreter for Mr. Taichi, who will be Man Records’ acting CEO for the day.”
A sharply dressed woman bowed politely to the executive team of LS Entertainment. Her hair was pulled back so tightly that even with her head bowed, not a single strand fell out of place.
In front of her, at the head of the table, sat CEO Jeon Nam-il, and to his right was Taichi. Around them, filling all remaining seats, were the managing directors, executive directors, and board members.
No one in the room had anticipated such a gathering. Indeed, Jeon Nam-il himself hadn’t foreseen this unfolding in quite this way.
Certainly—
During a previous phone call, Taichi had asked if it would be all right to visit Hyunseung in person, but Jeon Nam-il had never guessed he’d fly over the border so quickly.
“I apologize for arriving so suddenly without proper notice.”
Jeon Nam-il was surprised, but he was the face of LS Entertainment—a company of significant stature in Korea. He wasn’t the type to simply nod and hand over the reins. Masking his surprise, he responded with practiced calm.
“It’s no problem. However, please understand that HS, whom you wish to meet, may be a bit late.” After the interpreter passed along CEO Jeon’s words to Taichi, he responded, and she translated: “He says he’s willing to wait as long as it takes, as long as he can meet him.”
Jeon Nam‑il nodded slowly and shifted his gaze to Taichi, who sat there with a bright, almost childlike look that seemed to say waiting didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Hmm.”
Meanwhile, Executive Director Park frowned. The CEO knew he had stolen certain official documents and had quietly warned him, yet never took any real action. Park hadn’t bothered to ask himself why. He simply chalked it up to how CEO Jeon usually operated. But now it all made sense. Even if he had intercepted some documents, it had caused no real harm or delay. The truth was that Taichi from Man Records wanted only HS, and he was willing to go through some trouble for that. Naturally, CEO Jeon had turned a blind eye to Park’s little power play. And now, he’d summoned them here on purpose.
Take a look at what you tried to ruin.
It wasn’t just aimed at him personally—Jeon Nam‑il likely wanted the entire executive board to see. Of course, if they managed to establish a solid relationship with Man Records through this, LS Entertainment could gain a foothold in a bigger market. But Taichi’s only real objective was “collaboration with HS.” And there were only three people who could finalize that collaboration: the two CEOs and HS himself. Summoning all the executives by emergency message for this meeting wasn’t truly necessary. It was simply the CEO’s way of showing everyone how highly he regarded “HS.”
“Good afternoon.”
Right on cue, there was a light knock, and Hyunseung opened the door, stepping into the room.
“HS…?”
Suddenly, Taichi jumped to his feet and stared at the entrance in a daze. He looked like someone reunited with long‑lost family after decades, filled with almost unreal happiness. Indeed, his eyes glowed as he took in Hyunseung.
“Huh?”
By contrast, Hyunseung tilted his head and carefully examined Taichi’s face. No one had informed him that the CEO of Man Records had specifically requested him, nor that he’d been trying to make contact. All Hyunseung knew was that there was an “emergency executive meeting,” so he’d come, only to find an unfamiliar man looking at him with overwhelming excitement. Naturally, he felt a bit flustered. However, recognition soon dawned. He was sure he’d seen this face somewhere before. Yes—if he remembered correctly, this man was…
Sakamoto Taichi.
He was the CEO of Man Records’ main office in Japan.
“Mr. Taichi has been waiting to meet you, Hyunseung. He’s the CEO of Man Records, Sakamoto Taichi. Why not go say hello?”
Following CEO Jeon’s gesture, Hyunseung walked up to him with firm, confident steps. He felt a flicker of anticipation. Man Records was unrivaled in terms of musicality, yet famously closed off to the outside. Even in his past life, Hyunseung had never formed any real connection with them, making them completely uncharted territory for him.
“Sorry for being so late after you came all this way. I’m HS, a composer.”
He knew there had been a phone call from CEO Jeon about this, but seeing Taichi here in person meant there must be something fruitful in the works. Moreover, Taichi had said he’d been waiting specifically to see him, which likely meant an opportunity to collaborate with Man Records. Since he was back, why not? It wouldn’t hurt to explore what Man Records could offer.
“No need to apologize. I wanted to meet you badly enough that I didn’t mind coming here on short notice. I’m Taichi, CEO of Man Records.”
Though he spoke through an interpreter, both men’s faces were brimming with curiosity and anticipation, and even their handshake was warm. Jeon Nam‑il quietly observed Taichi. Before Hyunseung arrived, Taichi had worn a strictly business‑like demeanor, but now he showed a more genuine, human expression. It was remarkable to see the head of a world‑renowned music distributor being so welcoming toward a young composer from another country. At the same time, Jeon Nam‑il found it understandable. If that composer was Hyunseung, it made sense. He glanced over at Hyunseung again—still unflinching and confidently smiling even under Taichi’s gaze. Jeon Nam‑il nearly snorted with laughter at the sight.
“All right, shall we discuss this collaboration?”
Noticing that Taichi and Hyunseung were locked in a quietly intense stare, with no sign of stopping, Jeon Nam‑il took the initiative to move things along.
“Before we talk collaboration, Mr. Taichi brought a little gift for everyone. He had to rearrange his schedule on short notice, so please forgive him for not having enough to go around.”
After exchanging a look with Taichi, the interpreter held out a shopping bag. Inside were about ten bottles of Japanese sake that looked quite expensive even at a glance. Executive Director Park’s attention, however, drifted to a single remaining shopping bag the interpreter still held. It had to be—a separate gift prepared for Hyunseung. Even at a glance, it looked more luxuriously wrapped. It was obvious that Taichi held a special interest in Hyunseung.
“This is a gift for HS from Mr. Taichi.”
Sure enough, that last remaining bag went straight into Hyunseung’s arms. Inside was a bottle of sake rumored to be so rare that even in Japan it sold for well over five million won.
Taichi was fully aware that LS Entertainment executives might feel slighted that only composer “HS” had received the priciest gift. But he’d come to Korea purely for business with this young genius. As for the others, to put it nicely, they were merely bystanders. To him, they were simply older monkeys—talking potatoes at best.
“Oh, isn’t this from a legendary brewery in Kyoto? We should be the ones thanking you for visiting us, yet you’ve brought such fine sake….”
Despite Executive Director Park’s attempts to continue the conversation while holding the bottle, Taichi’s focus remained solely on Hyunseung. Realizing Taichi wasn’t listening, Park let his words trail off. Having eaten countless meals at the company cafeteria, he was, first and foremost, a seasoned office worker who knew when to hold his tongue. He decided not to try drawing attention to himself with pointless questions like “Um… are you listening?” He also knew Taichi was not someone he could intimidate with rank or authority. All he could do was be jealous of Hyunseung—petty, shameful, utterly pointless jealousy.
“Thank you. May I ask why you wanted to see me today?”
Taking a seat across from Taichi, Hyunseung asked outright about the reason behind such overt kindness. It was as if Taichi had been waiting for this moment; he handed some documents to the interpreter and had her pass them on.
“Yes, to get straight to the point, we’ve received a variety of business proposals, and we’d like you to participate in the production process. This is a contract for digital music sourcing, and we’re willing to meet nearly any conditions you may require.”
That was about what Hyunseung had guessed. Taichi’s attitude was too enthusiastic to be just about distributing a few of his tracks. So, it was indeed a proposal for deeper collaboration. Hyunseung took the documents and read them over slowly. They were written in both Japanese and Korean, and the contents exceeded his expectations. The language was direct and positive, as though saying, We won’t try to dazzle you with unclear terms. He found himself letting out small hums of interest as he read.
“Huh?”
CEO Jeon Nam‑il studied Hyunseung. He was still fairly new to the professional world—most composers his age would’ve been so awed by an LS Entertainment contract that they’d practically grovel at the opportunity. Yet here he was, faced with a collaboration deal from Man Records, calmly nodding without showing any clear reaction. If Jeon Nam‑il had his way, he might have told him to just say yes on the spot. How long did he keep them waiting in anticipation?
“Thank you for the offer, first of all.”
When Hyunseung spoke, everyone turned to him. Then, switching to fluent Japanese, he continued speaking. The interpreter next to him blinked in shock, realizing she’d been sitting there for no reason. Jeon Nam‑il narrowed his eyes. He recalled how Hyunseung had acted oblivious when Taichi called earlier. He now realized Hyunseung had likely understood that phone conversation all along. Yes, with language skills like that, he must have gotten the gist.
“Well, I’ll look it over carefully. I’ll definitely give it serious consideration.”
At those words, everyone else swallowed hard in astonishment. Their eyes all seemed to be screaming “This is a once‑in‑a‑lifetime chance—are you crazy?” in silence. But Taichi was the exception; he actually looked relieved. Indeed, even when you buy a new electronic device, you read the details carefully. How much more caution should you exercise when signing a contract that might change your entire future? If Hyunseung had just skimmed it once and agreed on the spot, Taichi might have worried instead.
Many geniuses fail to recognize their own worth. They put on a show like performing circus bears, only for the managers to walk away with all the profit. But this young man—with his extraordinary talent—seemed fully aware of his value. Taichi could sense he’d do just fine, living comfortably in a nice home, wearing nice clothes, and eating well for a long time to come. Just like the other geniuses Taichi had encountered before.
“HS exceeds even my highest expectations. I do hope we’ll get to work together.”
“Thank you for thinking so highly of me.”
“Then, please feel free to go over everything thoroughly and give me your answer once you’ve made up your mind.”
From his inner pocket, Taichi produced a gleaming gold card case that looked like it could cost a few hundred thousand won. He took out a business card and handed it to Hyunseung. The paper had a subtle watermark, and the thick English font was printed neatly across the milky surface. People sometimes say a business card is a person’s small portfolio—if so, this card perfectly embodied the tidy, dignified nature of Taichi Sakamoto.
“My personal contact number is on there, so don’t hesitate to reach out anytime.”
Hyunseung took the card with a short, clear “Yes.” He didn’t need to say more. From experience, he knew exactly what this meant. For a company president to hand over a special card bearing their personal contact—it was a gesture of deep trust. And this was the CEO of Man Records, no less. It was just a small, thin piece of paper, but one that couldn’t be measured in money. Maybe it was meaningless to most, but in the hands of someone who understood its true worth, it could be priceless—like holding countless riches in one’s hand.
“Well, that about covers the main topic. I don’t want to bore everyone with more work talk, but it does feel a bit sad to leave it at that…”
Then, as if the other executives and even the interpreter had turned invisible, Taichi and Hyunseung continued chatting in Japanese, on a more personal note.
“Are you free for lunch, HS? If so, would you care to join me?”
“Yes, I’d like that. In that case, I know a good Korean restaurant. I’ll take you there.”
“I’m already looking forward to it. Actually, I really enjoy Korean food.”
Whether he realized it or not, Hyunseung had a knack for naturally steering the current of events in ways that benefited him. Gradually, he found himself entangled with more and more capable people—those with real power and influence—and moved ever higher as a result.
“Well then, shall we get going?”
Indeed, now Hyunseung held in his hand yet another option to ascend to greater heights.
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