“Wow, Min Hyunseung.”
Manager Kim, eyes glued to his phone, let out an exclamation.
“Do you know how many times you’ve said that now?”
“No, but isn’t it amazing?”
“What’s so amazing about it?”
Honestly, it was curious. Right from the beginning of his contract, Hyunseung had demanded a strict “No personal information exposure” clause, refusing any compromises on his privacy. Yet, with just one mocking line from Executive Director Park—saying he should do some fan service if he wanted to keep his chart performance—Hyunseung had marched right outside and actually met his fans. A total twist.
In the end, the results were good—maybe they should thank Executive Director Park for that? Indeed, you could say Hyunseung’s surprise fan meeting was a huge success.
Contrary to anyone’s worries, Hyunseung had a natural star quality and skillfully handled the fans. He dealt calmly and smartly with even some of the more extreme requests from teenage girl fans.
[Everyone,we’re putting out an A.P.B. (all-points bulletin) on HS!(+Montage attached)]
Scroll, scroll…
— He stole my heart in a single glance. The moment I caught sight of his eyes, my heart started pounding like I’d just reunited with a long-lost first love. If he was going to be that good-looking, he shouldn’t have appeared at all! It’s practically a crime, swiping my heart with such unbelievably handsome looks. The height, the proportions, the ability… and even his scent was wonderful. I can’t forgive how offensively perfect he was. I’ve attached a completed montage of what I believe HS’s face looks like—if you see this man, please report him to me, so we can file for marriage…♡
↳ Look at the detailed drawing of that montage, LOL. So earnest.
↳ I’ve seen a couple leaked photos; he did look good T^T
↳ What if his lower face is huge? Like a giant jaw??
↳ Nah, from what I saw, I can’t imagine it.
↳ Hey, guys—someone just posted a top thread claiming they saw HS’s real face, +link
Manager Kim chuckled softly while reading a post on a popular online community. The OP had even painstakingly drawn a predicted “montage” of Hyunseung’s face.
“Oh, it’s surprisingly accurate.”
Basing the sketch on the eyes and nose faintly visible through the goggles, the montage did somewhat resemble Hyunseung. Probably because they’d imagined him as good-looking as possible, it ended up close.
↳ This montage isn’t as good as the real deal, LOL
Manager Kim found himself smiling like a proud father as he typed a comment under his breath:
“Oops.”
He quickly deleted that comment, then clicked a link someone had attached in the replies.
Scroll, scroll…
[Did anyone see HS’s real face? It was me, guys (+proof)]
— No one believed me, so I added a photo of the helmet I used. Check it out! It must’ve been about two months ago. I was delivering something to LS Entertainment when this guy suddenly asked to buy my helmet. At first, I said no, but he looked desperate, so I sold it. It wasn’t a limited or special edition helmet—just a random one from the store. Based on the details, though, that guy was definitely HS. Everyone’s dying to see HS’s face—trust me, I’m a guy and even I thought he was ridiculously handsome. Those “montages” going around don’t do him justice. He’s even hotter in real life, no joke. The world’s unfair, man. HS is hot, talented… well, anyway, here’s my proof. Gotta go back to my deliveries…
↳ Don’t cry, just tell me—how hot was he?
↳ Honestly, everything lines up so I believe it.
↳ The last line is so depressing… real talk…
↳ HS, if you need a new helmet, contact me. I’ll sell cheap, but only for in-person deals, haha…
Manager Kim read the post and turned to Hyunseung, looking perplexed.
“Hyunseung, that helmet you wore outside—did you actually buy it off a delivery guy who came to LS Entertainment?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Why?”
“Well, he posted a story saying he saw your face. There’s even a montage of you going around.”
“So what? It’s not like my actual face is circulating. And if I get a new helmet, they won’t recognize me.”
Manager Kim studied him. Changing the helmet wouldn’t exactly hide his physique, would it? Maybe Hyunseung was underestimating how noticeable he was.
“Anyway, the online reaction is huge.”
“Oh, is it?”
“We’re seeing a steady increase in streaming.”
“That’s good.”
“At this rate, you might end up in show business.”
“Not happening.”
His blunt reply made Manager Kim click his tongue regretfully. He personally suspected that one day Hyunseung would inevitably become someone recognized by the public—regardless of whether he wanted it.
Yes.
You can’t hide the sun with your palm.
Taichi was alone in the airport departure area. After living and breathing music with Hyunseung for so long, it felt surreal to leave.
“I won’t go too far. Still got finishing touches to do,”
Hyunseung had said in parting, and those words still echoed in Taichi’s mind. It wasn’t as if Taichi had reason to feel disappointed. Their relationship stemmed from money and music. So why did he feel like a kid sulking over having to leave?
Maybe it was proof that he cared more about this partnership than Hyunseung did. He knew why. Putting aside age, wealth, and fame, Taichi couldn’t help but admire and respect Hyunseung after seeing him work.
He’d witnessed it clearly:
How Hyunseung oversaw the entire piece so delicately—the storytelling in the music, the emotional arcs conveyed by each note—and turned it all into a masterpiece. Watching that up close was an invaluable experience.
Yes.
He had arguably learned even more from Hyunseung than he’d contributed. Taichi was sad to leave, but had zero regrets.
Tock, tock…
He tapped the floor with the tip of his shoe, waiting for his flight, and gazed off into space.
He’s definitely going to leave his mark on music history.
Hyunseung always wore slippers in his studio, so maybe he’d leave behind wave-patterned footprints. Taichi was certain that the name “HS” would dominate the modern music world and redefine it.
He might even end up in textbooks someday.
Taichi wanted to live long enough—somehow—to see all of Hyunseung’s achievements. Well, at least he’d see them soon. That success was just around the corner.
Bzzzzzt—!
A sudden vibration shook him from his thoughts. It was Kinjirou, one of Man Records’ executives. No doubt he was calling to ask when Taichi would be back. Taichi didn’t pick up.
Tap, tap…
He walked toward his boarding gate and onto the plane. Soon, once he got back to Japan and played the recorded files for Kinjirou, all the nagging would stop. Indeed, if Taichi showed him what he’d brought, the question would change from, “Why are you just now returning?” to, “Wow, how’d you finish so quickly?”
After all, this track was only one of many.
The young genius was putting together fifteen tracks for the album. This was just one-fifteenth of what might go down in game industry history as a legendary OST.
And that made him breathe a sigh of relief. Man Records would be handling the distribution, and Taichi was genuinely grateful for that. Their good fortune, their swift approach, that well-timed phone call—it all made the partnership possible.
No doubt…
He, too, would profit greatly from this. Someday Hyunseung would hand over part of that profit, saying,
“Thank you for all your hard work.”
They would share the glory. Taichi couldn’t wait for the album’s completion. He decided to stop ruminating—he suddenly felt very tired.
He reclined his business-class seat and closed his eyes. Indeed, since arriving in Korea, he’d been so busy he’d barely realized how exhausted he was.
“Mmm…”
The announcement for takeoff played as he drifted into what might have been his first decent sleep in days.
“Beeeeep—!”
“Holy—!”
“Oh my god—!”
Cries in multiple languages and weird exclamations filled the room, so chaotic it was hard to tell if they were still in Korea or outer space. It was the LS Entertainment engineers, of course.
They’d just listened to the completed opening OST track, supposedly to help with the mastering process. The moment they heard it, they rushed over to Hyunseung’s studio.
“Hyunseung, are you insane?”
“Seriously, how do you keep producing music at this level?”
“Must’ve sold his soul to the devil.”
“Yeah, like Faust. That’s the only explanation.”
“In any case, he’s a bit inhuman.”
“Right, even if we pull an all-nighter with him, his hair never gets flattened.”
Hyunseung didn’t reply, letting them chatter. He had no idea how messy hair had anything to do with being “non-human,” but apparently these guys had made up their minds about him.
“Guys.”
Manager Kim finally butted in,
“You realize none of this makes logical sense, right?”
“What can we say, we mean that Hyunseung is just too perfect, too incredible.”
“Exactly. It’s like he struck a deal with the devil for this new track—it’s unbelievably good.”
They were top-notch engineers, after all, having beat stiff competition to get hired by LS Entertainment. Many were skilled enough to get outside scouting offers. Yet normally they worked on mainstream pop—who would’ve thought they’d gush this much over a game OST?
“A game OST, right? And presumably ‘all ages’?”
“Yep, exactly.”
“And it’s that good?”
“One listen, and you’ll understand why we’re acting like this.”
Hyunseung’s music was always excellent, sure. But Manager Kim knew this was a new genre entirely—he had no idea what to expect.
“Hyunseung, you finished it?”
“At least one track, yes.”
“Mind if I hear it?”
“You’re just gonna rave about how good it is again.”
“What if it’s not my taste this time?”
“That’s unlikely.”
“Hey now, don’t get cocky.”
Hyunseung passed Manager Kim a headset, and they both grinned. Indeed, Kim had never once disliked any of Hyunseung’s compositions. Maybe the new style would simply come down to personal preference, but it’d still be good.
Click.
With the tap of the space bar, soft piano notes drifted through the headphones.
Ah, spring.
Under warm sunshine, petals floated in a gentle breeze. The laughter of students starting the new semester drifted by, and a subtle hint of blossoms teased the senses.
Soon—
The track changed, evoking summer. Bold, bright instrumentation conjured a fountain splashing away the oppressive heat. Sprays of water cooled the sweat from one’s brow.
Then came autumn.
Dark, low instruments layered in a dissonance that brewed sadness, as if fallen leaves were raining down. Yet that moodiness was somehow comforting, too.
Winter followed.
Sharp, biting tones whipped up a blizzard, stinging cheeks with icy breath. One might think: endure this “hungry season,” and sweet spring would return. Yes, it would, so you just had to hold out.
But no spring came. Nor summer, nor autumn, nor winter.
Each instrument, each voice retreated, fading into the distance. A hollow emptiness replaced them, an ache of futility that stung.
Manager Kim felt his eyelids quiver under the sheer hollowness of it, reluctant to open. He stayed immersed in that afterglow.
“Wow…”
When he opened his eyes, everything seemed alien, as though he’d just returned from that musical world. Right, it was as if he had stepped into a game’s realm and then been tossed back out.
“This is insane.”
“Told you.”
“What’s the title?”
“It’s called Emptiness.”
“Emptiness?”
“Yes, ‘Heomu’ (허무).”
Huh. Manager Kim let out a light chuckle. A genius who could predict how listeners would feel and name the track accordingly—what more was there to say?
“That’s a perfect title.”
And that said it all.
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