These days, if you had to pick the hottest topic around…
[Man Records CEO Taichi Sakamoto Punches In at LS Entertainment Every Day to Collaborate with HS—Headlines Everywhere]
It was that Taichi Sakamoto really was reporting to LS Entertainment daily. Not only was the outside world abuzz, but internally it had become a major talking point as well. Every time an article dropped, it included photos of Taichi’s “commute.”
“It’s more chaotic than celebrities heading to work.”
Manager Kim mumbled this as he skimmed the article listings. Taichi’s fame was so immense that even casual music listeners had heard of him. That same man was so openly courting a Korean composer that he was heading to a different company every day just to work with him?
Such actions were shockingly unexpected.
Of course, it had a wonderful impact on Hyunseung. The public, caught up in national pride (“K-greatness”), was going crazy for “HS.”
“I heard Hyunseung’s fan café membership is skyrocketing…”
All in all, Manager Kim felt great seeing the promising future of his “protege,” Hyunseung. They’d barely crossed paths in recent days, though, because he was busy collaborating. Hoping to at least bring him a coffee and see his face, Manager Kim filled a carrier with coffee and headed to the recording studio.
Knock, knock, knock—
He rapped lightly on the door, not wanting to interrupt. Perhaps they were too focused on work to hear him? As he raised his fist for a second, louder knock—
Clack!
The door suddenly flew open, and a woman he’d never seen before bolted out. She was lugging an instrument case bigger than herself. They bumped lightly, and without even meeting his eyes, she gave a quick nod.
“Oh— I’m so sorry.”
Manager Kim watched her hurriedly depart. Must be one of the orchestra members they’d brought in for recording. But…
What was with her appearance?
Even at a glance, her face was pale as a sheet, sweat plastered her bangs to her forehead, and the dark circles under her eyes looked hollow, as if she’d lost all focus.
“Hyunseung…?”
Peeking through the open door into the studio, he immediately understood. The state of the room explained why that woman had fled like a desperate escapee, and why her face looked utterly drained.
“Is this a recording studio or a pigsty?”
The place looked like a hurricane had blown through. Once again, it appeared Hyunseung was using the studio as a makeshift dorm.
“Hello?”
An awkward Korean greeting sounded.
“Sa… Sakamoto Taichi-san?”
Manager Kim turned toward the source. Slumped on the sofa was Taichi, someone he’d once known to be meticulously dressed and polished—but now his shirt was half unbuttoned, hair roughly swept back, and his sleeves haphazardly rolled.
It was completely at odds with the neat impression Manager Kim had of him, but strangely, he also seemed to blend right in with the chaos of this recording studio.
“Oh, hello. I’m Kim Woo-hyun, a Manager here.”
“My Korean is still lacking. May I switch to Japanese?”
“Of course, go right ahead. Have some coffee I brought and take a break.”
They shook hands as Taichi offered a faint, polite smile that didn’t quite hide how tired he was. From the looks of things, he, too, was crashing here with Hyunseung. First it was Seo Jini, then Jung A-rin, then Moon Beomjae and the sound engineers, all practically living in the studio…
Now Taichi, as well.
It was turning into some insane “all-star dorm.” Or more like a grueling training camp run by a sadistic coach. What next, the CEO himself joining them?
“Manager Kim, please have a seat.”
At Hyunseung’s casual invitation, Manager Kim’s wandering thoughts abruptly ended.
“We’ve still got a bit of recording left, so let us finish up quickly and then we can hit the company cafeteria.”
“Take it easy, would you? Your dark circles are practically down to your chin.”
“We still have the bassoon part left. But there’s not much more, really.”
Hyunseung gestured into the booth, where a weary-looking man sat with a bassoon strapped to his body.
“Why does he look so miserable?”
His face was akin to that of a prisoner unjustly serving a life sentence—no hope, no light left in his eyes.
“Imagine having to hold that huge instrument and play for over ten hours. Of course he’s going to look like that.”
“Ten hours? This place really is like a prison. He’s got the look of someone who’s lost all hope of escape.”
From the empathy etched on Manager Kim’s face, you’d think he personally felt the bassoonist’s pain. But Hyunseung shrugged, unfazed.
“Prison? Don’t worry, he’s a veteran; he can handle it.”
“If he weren’t a veteran, he’d have run away ages ago.”
“Right? I’m impressed by the Berlin Philharmonic Academy. They’re on another level.”
Manager Kim felt a chill. Sure, a musician from the Berlin Philharmonic Academy was used to tough recordings, rehearsals, and long performances. But had he ever dealt with Hyunseung before now?
“Alright, we’ve had a short break—should we start again?”
Oh, that’s right… Taichi was here, too.
“Asking for rapid high notes in that register may be a little cruel, but I believe you can handle it.”
“But the breath support is weakening. The sound’s too thin. You realize how vital the multiphonics section is, right?”
An elite talent, dragged into this punishing “boot camp,” pinned down by Hyunseung and Taichi—two relentless taskmasters. It wasn’t a sight for the faint-hearted.
“That was okay, but let’s re-record measure 21.”
“It was just a tiny bit off. Once more.”
“A bit faster, let’s do it again.”
Again and again. Well, what else to do? The poor guy had to push on. It was like a life-or-death ordeal; Manager Kim could only pray he’d survive it.
“Phew…”
But as time wore on, Manager Kim’s sympathy for that bassoon player was overshadowed by the awe he felt toward Hyunseung and Taichi. When Manager Kim arrived, both men looked exhausted, the table was a total warzone—clearly not just one or two nights without sleep.
And yet…
Once they started recording again, all signs of fatigue vanished from their faces. Their eyes gleamed sharply, their ears practically twitching for the smallest detail, and pinpoint criticisms flew like sharpened blades.
Two mad geniuses together, refusing to settle for anything “decent” or “good enough,” constantly pushing each other to perfect every note.
A single game OST, yet Taichi’s personally involved. Even members of the Philharmonic are here, staying up countless nights for the recording. It seemed unimaginable.
Yes, whatever mishaps had happened before were child’s play. This was the real storm—an absolutely insane creative fusion that no one could’ve predicted, with a never-before-seen concept and scale. A genuine “incident.”
“So, that last take was the best so far. What do you think, Hyunseung?”
Yet…
“The breath control on the final note felt a bit lacking, don’t you think?”
In that “big incident,” casualties were slowly mounting.
“Let’s do it one more time.”
“What the heck’s all this?”
Executive Director Park was about to head to a restaurant right across from the corporate building when he spotted it. Outside, near the main entrance, were crowds of fans holding up banners.
“Executive Director, is it so unusual to see fans gather at HQ? It’s not the first time.”
Chief Officer Oh shrugged, as if to say “Nothing new here.”
“Not that—but that group right there.”
Park tilted his head, pointing outside. Following his line of sight, Officer Oh saw something that made his eyes go wide.
“Huh?”
They moved closer to the glass—tinted so outsiders couldn’t see in—and took a better look. Officer Oh rubbed his eyes and squinted.
“G-HS.”
Those were the shared letters on a bunch of placards. It resembled the name that everyone inside the company had been buzzing about recently: “HS,” the pen name of 2nd Team’s in-house composer, Min Hyunseung.
“Could it really be…?”
Officer Oh’s face contorted with confusion. Because of HS, the 2nd Team’s results had soared. Thanks to the recent Taichi partnership, his success was gaining official recognition both in and out of the company, which was obviously unsettling to the 1st Team who saw themselves as competitors.
“You know what they say about ‘could it really be….’”
But contrary to Officer Oh’s unease, Executive Director Park looked surprisingly calm. Normally he was quite fiery, especially when it came to disliking 2nd Team and Director Choi’s faction. Yet he seemed composed. Officer Oh stared, puzzled.
Click—
Park snapped a photo of the HS fans outside. Then he tapped his phone, sending the picture somewhere. Whatever he was up to, it surely wasn’t kindly informing Hyunseung of his fans.
“Manager Kim, did you see what I sent?”
He was obviously talking to 2nd Team’s Manager Kim Woo-hyun. His tone hinted at sarcasm.
“HS’s fans are crowding the building entrance, can’t even get to my lunch. I’m calling because of that.”
—“Are there really that many? Sorry about that.”
“Right, a composer having a fan café is hilarious enough, but now this—stalker fans? Maybe we should make that kid into an idol, huh?”
Even a bystander could sense his words were twisted. That so-called calm was just the prelude to this sarcasm.
“Of course, I expect a personality scandal could sink him before that even happens.”
Park sure had a knack for pushing beyond reason, even on his best days.
“Isn’t he getting a bit cocky?”
This was definitely one of those times.
“If he wants to keep up his good results, maybe he should come out and do some fan service, no?”
—“Pardon me, but Hyunseung was never supposed to reveal his identity…”
Someone else cut in—an undeniably younger voice.
—“No, Executive Director Park has a point.”
It was “HS,” or Min Hyunseung, himself.
—“Might as well show my face.”
In the background, Manager Kim’s urgent voice: “Wait, are you serious?” But the bold, young composer immediately agreed.
“Guess I should deliver this great news to those fans, huh. They’ll love it.”
But wait, did he really just say yes so easily? Wasn’t he extremely averse to appearing in public? Could it be he had no dark secrets after all?
—“Yes, I’ll just come down right now, before I change my mind.”
With that puzzling statement, the call ended abruptly.
“He’s so consistent.”
Park smirked at his silent phone.
“Consistently rude.”
But that could wait—was he really going to come down? And why the sudden change of heart? The moment Hyunseung’s face was revealed to the public, his fanbase would probably explode. Let’s face it, that handsome face would do that. Then again, as Park had hinted, one wrong word and he could tumble from grace.
Well, the company absolutely couldn’t afford a scandal. HS was a golden goose. But Park wasn’t exactly doing this for the company’s good—he acted to satisfy his own interests and power.
“He’s going to regret it, sooner or later.”
These days, it wasn’t about Director Choi. Park just found HS—Min Hyunseung—himself irritating.
Jin Miso couldn’t calm her racing heart.
“We just got word that HS is coming down, so please stand to one side and wait safely.”
That’s what the security guard had told her. She’d fully expected not to see him—he was known to reveal nothing about his identity. She’d only come on a whim with some other fan café members, hoping there might be a tiny chance.
Yet it seemed a dream might come true. She could actually see him in person, the one she’d only imagined in her head?
“Whew…”
A flood of thoughts—excitement, anxiety, even a tinge of despair—washed over her. She never realized her fandom, born from listening to his music alone, had grown this huge.
And she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
Everyone knew “HS” was the talk of the town, constantly in the public eye, yet nothing about him was really known—a mysterious figure. Even fans of other celebrities, who had come for different idols, were now whispering and waiting quietly by the front doors, all collectively hoping to spot “HS.”
Scree…
A moment later, the building’s large doors slid open.
“Oh! Someone’s coming out!”
Stepping through was…
“A helmet…?”
A tall, well-built man wearing a full helmet.
“Hey, it’s HS!!!”
Others were whispering, “Really? That guy?” But anyone who’d read his first interview knew he wore a helmet like a signature. So his fans rushed toward him.
“Oppa, I have a gift for you!”
“I handmade this!”
“Take these vitamins!”
Helmet-Man flinched, stepping back.
“Y-yes, thanks for coming to see me. But please, don’t wait around like this; it’s distracting me from work. I’ll let you take pictures, but then please go home and maybe listen to my songs once with your family—that helps me more than you realize.”
A statement that could have sounded curt, but fans already viewed “HS” as a blunt softy, thanks to interviews from Seo Jini, Jung A-rin, and others. They took it as him caring about them.
“He’s got better proportions than most idols!”
“Kyaaa, he’s so sweet!”
“How can his voice be both sweet and sexy?”
They shrieked in delirium, but Helmet-Man stayed calm.
“Now, don’t push. Form a single line. If you don’t, I’m going back inside.”
Knowing he meant it, fan café leader Jin Miso quickly arranged the fans in an orderly queue. If they didn’t comply, she feared he really would leave.
“I love every single one of your songs.”
“Thanks—next.”
“Oppa, I really love you.”
“Sure, me too—next.”
“Marry me?!”
“That’s not happening—next.”
He was basically a photo machine. Swift and precise.
“Right, you’re the last one. Hand me your phone so I can snap a picture.”
Stepping up for her turn, Jin Miso locked eyes with him, brimming with emotion.
“U-um, HS… could you maybe lift your visor for a second?”
She knew the answer would likely be no. He despised revealing his identity. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and she was the café master of “G(od)HS.” She had to try.
“If you don’t, I won’t leave.”
“Ha…”
“P-please! Just once!”
Helmet-Man exhaled heavily, almost loud enough for her to hear under his visor. So that was it, then—he’d just walk away, right? Jin Miso’s heart hammered in dread.
“Seriously… fine.”
He spoke softly enough that only Jin Miso could hear.
“But just for a moment.”
Suddenly—
Click.
He lifted the front panel of his helmet for the briefest second, then snapped it back down. Yet it was enough.
“Wait… huh?!”
It was enough to unleash pandemonium.
“Kyaaaaaaaaaah!”
Even that fraction of a second was enough to make the world erupt.
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