[ [Official] HS says the song titled ‘Void’ “was named to contain feelings of hollowness” ]
— Composer ‘HS’’s Animal Island OST album, released on the 3rd, is making headlines day after day. In Japan in particular, the “Kyomu Challenge” based on the OST is spreading like a fad. In the meantime, players grew curious about the meaning behind the title ‘Void (虛無)’. On the homepage message board of Japan’s largest game company ‘Ninsix’, more than a hundred inquiries a day poured in—enough to paralyze the department in charge…
Swish, swish‑
In the end Ninsix, working with Man Records, which produced the OST album, asked ‘HS’ to confirm the meaning contained in the title. Composer HS replied, “It simply means ‘hollow’ as in emptiness, a title made by predicting the emotions players would feel”…
“Heh‑heh.”
Manager Kim let out a hearty laugh as he read the article.
Swish, swish‑
⤷ What’s with this guy… predicting the feelings we’ll have in advance… I’m falling for him.
⤷ The moment I heard the OST, I started Animal Island right away… FR my ears are gently melting…
⤷ At this point the whole world knows HS is a genius. Please…
Swish, swish‑
⤷ If you’re an HS fan, run the game right now. Buy the album too.
⤷ Animal Island was already pretty popular but now it’s honestly insane;
⤷ Agreed, nobody around me these days isn’t playing Animal Island.
After scanning every single comment, he burst into loud laughter.
“Seriously, that kid can do anything.”
The popularity that had ridden the Japanese current and reached Korea was climbing limit‑up. At the center stood ‘HS’, who had handled the entire OST.
In Japan, players were searching for ‘HS’ because they’d fallen for the OST; in Korea, where ‘HS’ was better known, many flocked to Animal Island for that very reason.
Yeah.
In short, HS’s name had spread wider. Bit by bit the name ‘HS’ would reach the world, right?
Manager Kim was wearing a pleased look and was putting away his phone when—
“The boxes are all moved inside.”
“Yes, thanks for your hard work. Thank you.”
A mover opened the door and reported the job done. When the workers left and he stepped through the open doorway, the smell of a new house hit his nose.
He entered the spacious living room, sat on the sofa, and took in the interior. The kid had said the furniture and appliances were included as options, but he could tell that was a lie.
“That rascal….”
A small laugh escaped. He’d left the fresh receipts right on the sofa—why lie like that? Before showing him the place he must already have planned everything and brought in the furniture and appliances.
And he must have agonized alone over how to say it, how to persuade him. Yes, he understood now. That kid would have acted deliberately casual, as if it were nothing, so the other person wouldn’t feel burdened.
All the more reason he felt grateful, sorry, proud.
Just like the noisy article a moment ago, Hyunseung had become famous and could buy this house, and he himself was receiving an unbelievable benefit.
Clomp, clomp‑
He walked to the wide extended balcony. Beyond the large pane the city spread out in a glance. Nearby he could see the university hospital where his mother was hospitalized.
I need to get her discharged soon and bring her here.
Resolving that, he turned his head and saw the overwhelming LS Entertainment building where he worked. The kid was probably inside right now, working with a happy face.
「 Golden Boy 」(*** Please see notes***)
Pressing speed‑dial 2 made the nickname, more familiar than the name, pop up on the screen.
“Hyunseung, the move’s all done.”
─ Then please hurry and come to the office.
“You talk like my boss.”
He hadn’t called for any particular reason—he’d just felt he had to say it now.
“Hyunseung.”
A short silence flowed.
“Thank you.”
One heartfelt word. He wanted to say he was proud of how well he’d grown, sorry for nearly bowing to reality and severing ties, and grateful for being pulled back.
He bundled those feelings and tossed them out offhandedly.
Soon—
Through the handset a voice even more offhand and formulaic than his own flowed kindly.
─ Please just hurry up and come to the cafeteria or the store.
“Alright, the proposal’s ready, so now we need to start casting….”
Trailing off, the man pressed his finger to his temple with a troubled face and held his tongue.
His name was Kim Young‑ho.
He was the flagship PD at MBM, one of the three main terrestrial broadcasters, and had cemented his place as a star PD by turning every variety show he directed into a success.
Now that the program was in its final planning stage he’d called a group meeting, and seated at the head of the table, flipping pages, he asked casually,
“First off, has everyone thought about who’ll judge for each region?”
This time he was in charge of a program titled . With over four billion won in production costs, it was a huge audition program; because it was season one, only a hit would guarantee a season two, and the stress was enormous.
“For Jeju, we’re thinking Hyunmin of the idol group Exter, known as a Jeju native….”
“For Busan, rapper‑producer Double‑D has a strong Busan‑native image, so visually….”
With so many audition shows flooding out, only by seizing both buzz and uniqueness could you succeed.
The plan was to seat completely different judges for each region’s preliminaries, showing uniqueness and differentiating from other shows.
“Alright, fix those people for the provinces.”
That item went smoothly, but one thing just wouldn’t come easily.
Buzz.
“Casting team, have you contacted the people on the main‑judge list?”
“Yes, we’ve made official requests through their agencies or labels.”
“No replies yet?”
“We sent them out at midnight, so no confirmations yet.”
Kim Young‑ho, stubble dark from an all‑nighter, stroked his chin and hummed.
“Hmm.”
In audition shows, to stir buzz you need contestants with skill, personality, comic value, and good looks.
Among them someone will have all the elements, and that contestant will naturally create talk so you get promotion without spending money.
Of course.
Such contestants are pre‑picked to some extent before the festival starts.
During planning many entertainment agencies had poured in unfair requests, like a downpour, asking that their trainees land in the Top Ten.
They were carving off part of the huge promo budget they’d spend after debut anyway and investing it in the show, so in practical terms both the production company and the agency profited.
However, the four billion won that had seemed ample at first now looked perhaps woefully short.
Would it create buzz, and even if it did would there be enough return? It felt like buying a four‑billion‑won lottery ticket.
Hadn’t it taken years just to convince the old men upstairs? The lottery ticket in his hand was practically bought with his resignation as collateral.
So it absolutely couldn’t be a dud.
“Whatever else, we have to get that person.”
Like a resolve, Kim Young‑ho smacked the printouts before him and added firmly,
“For Seoul’s judge, even a one‑time appearance is fine—just seat that person. Better yet as a main judge.”
Yes, rather than banking on a contestant hitting big, anchoring someone already at the center of attention as a fixed judge was a sure ratings guarantee.
“Uh, PD….”
The youngest staffer asked, oblivious,
“Sorry, but by that person, who do you mean…?”
Kim Young‑ho shouted and flung the papers.
“Who else?!”
The sheets fluttered weakly and landed in the middle of the table, displaying the fixed‑judge list.
“You’re calling that a question right now‑?!”
At the very top, the target’s name was circled and starred as if to pierce the page.
“Don’t tell me anyone still doesn’t know who I mean‑?!”
Everyone answered in chorus, loudly,
“W‑we know!”
“Then say it!”
Right.
The most sensational, shrouded figure in the country, a sure ratings guarantee by mere presence.
“Among the names listed here, who’s our absolute top priority to cast?!”
Too obvious a question—there was only one such person in the country.
At last the whole room shouted till the walls rang,
“Composer HS!”
Only then did Kim Young‑ho nod calmly, reassured.
“What exactly am I supposed to do?”
Lee Hyo‑seop, put in charge of overall casting for , crushed his empty coffee can and bounced on his feet.
[ PD Kim Young‑ho : No matter what, get HS. ]
Being hounded to cast only HS put him in a bind. Of course he wanted to—no one wanted it more desperately than he did.
Yes, if he landed HS he’d be the hero of the program, and naturally he’d run the next season too.
Above all—
It was a perfect chance to line up solidly with the Kim Young‑ho faction.
“Ha….”
Urgent as he was, casting HS wasn’t easy. He’d already made five formal requests.
First came the cold reply that HS had zero intent to appear on TV; after that only hope‑torture phrases like “We’re considering it internally.”
He’d heard plenty of laments from stations that had been flatly rejected by HS, so he’d expected hurdles—
But was there even a chance?
“I’ll check the others first.”
No matter how much he worried, HS wasn’t suddenly going to agree.
Right.
Handle what can be handled first; maybe another good idea will come.
“Mm.”
He wrote “On hold” next to HS and moved his gaze down. The list made him sigh. Casting wasn’t easy for the others either.
Everybody else on the main‑judge list was a legendary singer or famous producer—people who didn’t need to appear on shows and get flamed.
Still—
If interests aligned, they were somewhat castable.
“Jayble?”
He murmured the name Jayble on the list. Jayble had been asked long ago, but after the faint “We’ll think about it,” nothing.
“If at least he would appear….”
Wait, hold on.
Why had he only now thought of this good idea?
“Jayble’s manager’s number….”
He grabbed his phone and searched the call log.
“Got it.”
Grinning, he dialed.
Brrring‑.
After a long ring a voice answered, “Hello.”
“Hello, it’s Lee Hyo‑seop. I called earlier about casting for K‑Sing Star.”
— Ah, hello. But regarding that casting…
“Yes, you said you’d consider it.”
— I thought we made it clear we were declining. Why press, someone of your position?
“Come on, don’t be so stiff. Could I speak briefly with Mr. Jayble?”
— As you know, Mr. Jayble is extremely busy; a direct call is difficult.
“Then could you at least relay my words? There’s something I must tell him…”
While Lee Hyo‑seop hurried on, through the speaker came a familiar voice: “Who is it? What’s up?”
It was clearly Jayble. Alarms blared in Lee Hyo‑seop’s head not to miss this chance.
“By any chance are you with Mr. Jayble now?”
Reluctantly, the other answered, “Ah, yes…,” adding—
— Say what you have briefly. Mr. Jayble is listening too.
Lee Hyo‑seop inwardly shouted ‘Nice’ and cleared his throat.
“Mr. Jayble, you narrowly lost that bet on your solo album’s chart performance last time.”
— Why bring that up now?
When the manager retorted, Jayble said, “Hang on,” and took the phone.
— Skip the preamble; get to the point.
The level voice bristled. That defeat must have stung.
“Yes, I’ll be brief. Isn’t it time for a revenge match, Mr. Jayble?”
— What sudden revenge match?
“It’s not confirmed, but talk of HS appearing is looking positive.”
— Last I knew that guy refuses broadcasts and even keeps interviews off the record.
“Yes, but if Mr. Jayble comes, he’s almost certain to appear—near one hundred percent.”
Lee Hyo‑seop mixed in mild lies and piled on sweet talk.
“We’ll set the stage so you can have that revenge match properly. Around the Top Ten you and he will battle with self‑composed songs. We’ll shoulder the dirty work; you just bring a great track and show it.”
Then he lowered his voice for the finisher.
“I am Jayble.”
Nothing more to say—overdoing it could backfire.
Step back, give him time to think positively.
However—
Who knew what answer would come? The line might be cut with “Don’t talk nonsense,” losing Jayble as well as HS.
At the thought cold sweat pooled, his breath caught, and he swallowed dryly, ear to the phone.
But Jayble kept silent.
Damn, isn’t it working?
Just as Lee Hyo‑seop bit his parched lower lip,
— If that person comes….
At last—
Jayble’s low, settled voice came through the speaker.
— I’ll go too.
T/N: Alright, Manager Kim has Hyunseung saved as「 금쪽이 」 in his contacts and it means “Precious One” or “Gold Nugget”; A show also made the term “Golden child” popular. I NEED consistent terms moving forward. Which one would you guys prefer to see?
- Precious (One)
- Gold Nugget
- Golden Boy
The first one is cute, but I feel like Golden Boy is so HS-coded. Lemme know what you guys think. THANKS!
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