Manager Kim headed for the conference room for the Management Team 2 mid-year-projection meeting.
All the senior executives were scheduled to attend as well; evidently everyone was paying close attention to Team 2.
Could this really be the lead-up to a promotion?
Excited by the thought, he slipped into the room and deliberately chose the seat farthest from the head of the table.
Of course, once Director Choi arrived he would wave him over—but with so many eyes watching, it wouldn’t do to look greedy.
Right on cue, Director Choi came in, took the seat to the right of the head, and beckoned him.
“Director Choi, how have you been?”
“Oh, same as always. But Woohyeon, you look a little drawn.”
“Do I? Maybe because I’ve been skipping meals.”
“Must be because your cafeteria buddy’s gone.”
That “cafeteria buddy” was Hyunseung.
Hearing this, the general head of management across the table spoke up.
“Since we’re talking about him, when does that buddy of yours get back from vacation? Feels like he’s been gone rather long.”
Manager Kim’s face hardened. “Pardon?”
He shot back, voice firm.
“Do you know how many nights he’s stayed up working? While other writers spend a year on a single song he’s released several this year alone—all of them charted.”
“Well, sure, we know that…”
“And it’s not as if he’s fooling around—he’s traveling with his family. You want to hound him about the schedule even then?”
“N-no, I just wondered when he’d be back…”
Embarrassed by Kim’s brusque tone, the general head fiddled with his tie.
“Manager Kim’s always prickly where that buddy’s concerned,” someone laughed—and at that moment Vice-President Park strolled in, clapping Kim reassuringly on the shoulder.
“Aren’t you spoiling him a bit?” he joked.
No malice—just a subtle signal to ease up.
“But…”
While Kim straightened his jacket, the A&R Team-1 leader spoke.
“HS-nim keeps sending songs to our mailbox.”
Everyone stared—what was he talking about? The man was in Europe; he was sending tracks?
“What do you mean?”
“He’s e-mailed two songs in the last few days. Frankly he’s delivering more than our in-house writers.”
“What?”
“Looks like he’s prepping a solo album—asked us just to handle some light mastering.”
The manager chuckled awkwardly. “That kid thinks of nothing but music, wherever he is.”
“Oh, right—!” The team leader flicked through the mailbox again. “He added that it’s a secret project, so please keep it from Team 1 and only let essential staff know.”
Everyone’s eyes slid to Vice-President Park.
“Why’s everyone looking at me?”
Park shrugged, disgruntled. “I’m saying nothing. What, so Manager Kim can bite my head off again?”
Laughter rippled around the table.
Before the official meeting even began, things were already lively. Then the CEO entered.
“Sounds like we’ve got an intriguing topic,” he said, motioning them to sit and brushing aside the printed agenda. “Let’s hear more about this hush-hush project.”
Now in Switzerland, Hyunseung was scribbling furiously in a notebook at the terrace café on the Gornergrat observation deck.
A group of old men were playing traditional Swiss instruments nearby, and the sound had sparked ideas.
“Oppa, enough work—enjoy the view!” Hyuna scolded.
“I am enjoying it.”
“Liar—your eyes haven’t left that notebook!”
“I’m looking, honestly.”
Chased by her nagging, he lifted his gaze to the eternal snows of the Gornergrat. The majestic landscape pressed on him with quiet awe.
Truly breathtaking.
This family trip to Europe had two ulterior motives, in fact.
First, to prepare material for his next solo album. Working in the same studio every day could trap even him in familiar patterns; sometimes a distant land, fresh scenery, and the mix of faces shook loose new melodies.
He planned to craft an entire album from pieces written on this journey—released, of course, under a different name. People were saying the charts were just HS fighting himself; if so, he might as well set the stage properly.
Two tracks were already finished and emailed to A&R: one capturing the moment his family laughed together over a single Polaroid camera, the other inspired by the homeless man’s performance he’d stumbled upon.
That one, of course, would only be complete once the man agreed to play the session.
“He should have called by now,” Hyunseung muttered, checking his phone. No signal issues; perhaps the man was playing hard to get.
He set the phone down and looked at his father beside him, silently gazing at the glaciers—wrinkles mapping the years of a life.
Bringing him here was the right call.
Travel was a test of stamina; before his father’s mobility worsened, Hyunseung vowed to show him as much of the world as he could.
And that reminded him of the trip’s second purpose:
Father… I will…
After dropping his family at the hotel, Hyunseung rode alone by taxi toward his third mission.
“Institut für Stammzellen-Regenerative Medizin.”
He read the plaque, pressed the intercom, and, without knowing why, found his palm slick with sweat.
A voice in German asked who he was.
“I’m the one who emailed several times requesting to meet Dr. Henry.”
“Please wait,” came the reply, and the line clicked off.
Would they turn him away? He bit his lip uneasily.
Before the trip he had emailed Dr. Henry but received no answer. Unable to give up, he’d decided to come in person.
After a tense wait, the gate opened a crack and a woman peeked out.
“You’re the person who emailed about research funding, correct?”
“Yes. I know it’s an imposition, but I have questions I must ask. Even a few minutes face-to-face would help.”
“The doctor’s time is limited, so you won’t be able to talk long. If that’s fine, come inside.”
“Thank you.”
He followed her through the institute to a reception room; she told him to wait and left.
Tap, tap, tap.
His leg bounced restlessly. Meeting a scientist didn’t usually make him nervous—he wouldn’t flinch before a president—so why the jitters?
Because Dr. Henry was researching stem-cell regeneration of the auditory nerve for those totally deaf even to implants or hearing aids.
If successful, his father might hear again.
Hoo…
The door opened. A kindly man in a white coat entered.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Henry, head of research here.”
Wiping his damp palm on his trousers, Hyunseung shook his hand.
“It’s an honor, sir. I’m Min Hyunseung from Korea.”
“Quite a long way. What can I do for you? I did receive your mail offering research funding.”
“I had no reply, so I’ve come in person. You’re working on stem cells to regenerate lost auditory nerves, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“How far along is the project?”
“It’s confidential, but roughly halfway.”
Hope flickered across Hyunseung’s face.
Halfway… better than expected.
“Then realization isn’t far off?”
“Well…” Henry hesitated. “Even reaching fifty percent has taken over ten years, so I can’t promise how long the rest will take. And we still don’t know for sure if it will succeed.”
Darkness spread over Hyunseung’s features. The world seemed to recede. The balloon of hope popped; his heart sank.
“I see…”
He knew pleading or throwing money around wouldn’t magically fix it—but still…
“It may sound absurd, but I have considerable funds. I can cover several years of research costs—whatever it takes. Please, don’t give up; see it through to the end.”
Even the smallest chance—he couldn’t abandon it for his father’s sake. Almost clutching Dr. Henry’s sleeve, he begged.
“Someone you love must be deaf?” Henry asked gently.
“Yes. My father. His auditory nerve is completely dead; even implants are useless.”
After a pause he added, “Yet he wants so badly to hear the songs I write that he stays up nights poring over scores.”
In his past life, Hyunseung had never forgotten the sight of his father sobbing, hand on a speaker, surrounded by worn sheets of his music.
Now, restoring his father’s hearing had become both dream and obsession.
“I understand both your father’s heart and yours,” Henry said, patting his hand. “My own father is congenitally deaf. That’s why I began this work. I won’t quit—so don’t lose hope.”
Hyunseung’s pupils quivered. If anyone could do it, perhaps this man could.
For the first time in ages, he bowed deeply to someone.
When had he last bent so low?
“Please… I leave it in your hands.”
“I’ll do my utmost.”
“Thank you—truly.”
Possibility alone made the visit worthwhile.
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