The very first thing Hyunseung did after deciding he would appear on Music Core as a special guest was to have a motorcycle helmet custom made.
The helmet he’d been using until now had been bought in a hurry from a delivery rider, so it was badly scuffed and worn out. More than anything, the design felt a bit… plain.
So he sketched out his own design and put in a production order, and luckily the new helmet arrived in time.
First off, he improved the stuffy ventilation that had bothered him, fitting a soft liner that absorbed sweat and let it evaporate quickly.
The exterior was hand-painted in a classy black, over which a gradated flame decal was laid in stylish lines.
The pièce de résistance?
A visor tinted in a deep rainbow mirror finish.
“Fits me perfectly.”
The moment Hyunseung pulled the helmet on and stood before the mirror.
A light knock, then Manager Kim stepped in and yelped in fright.
“Wh-who’s that!”
“Manager, what are you doing?”
“Hyunseung?”
“Who else would it be.”
Kim eyed him warily.
“Wh-what’s with that helmet?”
“Bought a new one. Cool, right?”
Arms folded, Kim looked him up and down like a harsh judge.
“Wearing that, you look like a mad-scientist villain straight out of an SF flick.”
“Come again?”
“You know, the guy whose experiment blew up in the past, face badly burned, always in goggles, holed up in a dark basement muttering about how the world wronged him while brewing deadly poison gas.”
“It looks that weird? I designed it myself, you know…”
Feeling the chill in the air, Kim clapped his hands and showered him with praise.
“I mean… exactly, it’s too cool. Haven’t you noticed villains are trendier than heroes these days?”
“Forget it—you don’t have to sugar-coat.”
Turning back to the mirror, Hyunseung flipped the visor open and shut.
“Is it really that bad? I think it’s cool…”
Watching, Kim couldn’t help thinking the gods were fair.
Yes, he’d felt it for a while: Hyunseung absolutely lacks any aesthetic sense about dressing himself.
Before he knew it, music-show day arrived.
“Should be ready by now…”
Instead of heading to the company, Hyunseung went straight to a custom tailor near the building to pick up the suit he’d ordered when he had the helmet made.
He had considered matching the suit’s flashiness to the helmet, but since he’d wear it on broadcast and also considering he might have to go through a “meet-the-parents” situation for Hyuna, he chose a neat all-black semi-formal suit.
Ding-a-ling.
The bell chimed as he entered; a neatly suited clerk rushed out on slippered feet then froze a short distance away, as though wary of approaching too close.
“W-welcome, sir.”
Is something wrong? he wondered, then caught his image in the tall mirror.
Must be the helmet…? Is it that strange? Looked fine to him.
“I’m here to pick up a suit I ordered.”
“Ah, under what name, sir…?”
“It’s under LS Entertainment rather than a personal name.”
The clerk clapped his hands and hurried off to the stockroom.
Hyunseung sat to wait.
“Hm?”
A white man came out of the fitting room, straightening his shirt collar.
Slicked-back silver hair, angular horn-rim glasses, a heavy gaze that radiated authority.
Middle-aged, clearly no ordinary customer.
“Are you all right, Sir?” asked a sharp-looking younger man beside him, obviously a secretary and calling the older one “CEO.”
“You usually refuse to wear brand-new clothes right away.”
“Well, no spare shirt on me,” the CEO replied, inspecting himself in the full-length glass. “Can’t attend an important meeting in a coffee-stained shirt, can I.”
Hyunseung, pretending not to, listened to their English conversation while waiting. Maybe they were meeting some big buyer?
The secretary checked the tablet tucked under his arm.
“Sir, Sara just sent an urgent track for final approval.”
“Now?”
“Yes. They can’t push back the comeback date any longer; she begs you to sign off today.”
“Then play it while I pick out a tie,” the CEO said.
The secretary glanced around for other customers, flinched seeing Hyunseung, then decided it was fine.
The secretary was thinking, no doubt, that someone wearing a helmet wouldn’t hear well, not realizing the helmet was specially built to catch external sound clearly.
─ ♬ ♬ ♬
The two men started listening to the track in front of the tie display.
“Hmm…”
Hyunseung, listening too, involuntarily pressed his lips together.
The intro’s weak…
“Something’s missing,” the CEO said. “But I can’t pinpoint exactly what feedback to give.”
“Not to your liking?”
“It’s okay. I’d just like the intro to grab the ears right away.”
Same thought as his own: the intro lacked punch compared with the overall flow.
If they fixed only the intro, this could be a solid hit.
Should I say something… or not…
While he debated, the clerk returned with his suit.
“Thank you for waiting, sir. Shall we try it on?”
“Yes, let’s.”
He passed behind the CEO into the fitting room, changed into the perfectly tailored suit, pulled on the helmet, and made up his mind.
Better not.
Speaking up might only bring hassle.
Creak—
He opened the door and stepped out; the clerk flew to him.
“Is the fit all right? Need any adjustments?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Will you wear it out?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me bag the clothes you came in with.”
“Thank you.”
Still, the CEO and secretary stood by the ties.
The CEO sighed.
“Nothing’s going right today.”
He selected a tie.
“Tell Sara the intro feels flat, have her try something else… and put this on the bill.”
He looked oddly drained, as if stressed by things not going his way. A perfectionist.
Hyunseung exhaled lightly and strode up.
“Open with timpani for the intro,” he said—only that—and walked out of the shop.
The rest, whether they used the idea or how they arranged it, was their business.
Tap, tap…
He headed for his next stop.
Inside, the CEO stood dumbfounded, replaying the helmeted man’s words:
“Start the intro with timpani.”
Had he been eavesdropping the whole time?
Or did he really nail feedback from a single listen?
He didn’t look like any musician with that glaring helmet, suit. He was more like a mad scientist.
The secretary returned.
“Sir, shall we go? We’re tight on time.”
“Andrew, did you send Sara the feedback?”
“I was about to. Anything to add?”
“Yes… Tell her… to try opening the track with timpani.”
Nothing to lose.
Next, Hyunseung headed to Charom in Cheongdam.
Never thought I’d come here.
The shop ranked among the top three salons in Cheongdam—and charged accordingly—far beyond what ordinary people could afford.
Many agencies, including LS, had contracts with it; it functioned as a “secret salon” for celebrities and VIPs who valued absolute confidentiality.
Today he was no different.
“W-welcome…?”
Helmeted and suited, Hyunseung stood in reception, looking around.
Suspicious, the clerks hesitated. Eventually the youngest, nudged forward, asked:
“Did you have a reservation, sir?”
“Yes. Under Min Hyun.”
She checked the list. It was a “Director-level Course,” the most expensive.
“Right this way. We’ll store your coat and belongings in a locker. If you’ll hand them to me?”
He shrugged off his jacket and, with casual ease, lifted off the treasured helmet.
“Gasp.”
The junior clerk clapped a hand over her mouth.
Not only her but every female staff member nearby stared wide-eyed.
“Miss?”
“Y-yes!”
“Don’t you need the helmet?”
“O-of course. And please put on this gown; I’ll take you to the shampoo room.”
Stowing the helmet and jacket, she savored the jealous looks from coworkers while leading him away.
Seated alone in a private room, Hyunseung waited until a graceful middle-aged woman entered, smiling.
“I’m Cha Rom’s director, Hyun Ji-young. Pleasure to meet you.”
Catching her eyes via the mirror, he forced a polite smile.
Who knew? She might be future in-law material. It’s best to be courteous.
“First time here, yes? Are you an LS trainee?”
“No.”
“Then another agency?”
“Just an office worker.”
The director’s face cooled at once. The radiant smile vanished; in a flat tone she asked,
“Just a simple daily style, then?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
Apparently, hearing “office worker,” she assumed he wouldn’t become a regular. After all, only entertainers and high-ups frequented such an expensive salon.
Understandable but showing her true colors so fast, as a potential mother-in-law?
“Excuse me.”
“Mm?”
She was squeezing base cream onto her palette with zero enthusiasm.
Honestly, part of him wanted to call her out on the lousy service and text Hyuna to dump her.
But recalling Hyuna lighting up over every little message, he couldn’t.
If they were happy, that was enough.
“I’ll take the premium membership today.”
“Oh my, excellent choice, sir! Just a touch of my brush and you saw the difference, hm?”
“Something like that.”
“Then once I finish prepping, we’ll do a brief consult and handle payment.”
Smile fully restored, Director Hyun even handed him a complimentary coffee.
“If anything’s uncomfortable during the session, please tell me.”
Ah, the ugliness of human nature.
Still…
As long as Hyuna’s happy…
Eyes closed, he let the makeup begin unaware his phone, tucked in his jacket pocket, was buzzing nonstop.
Zzzz—
Zzzz—
Zzzz—
[24 Missed Calls – Kim Appa]
T/N: “Appa” (아빠) in Korean means “dad” or “daddy.”
It’s the informal or affectionate way to say “father,” often used by children or in close family settings.
The more formal or respectful word for father is “Abeoji” (아버지).
Leave a Reply to LinoCancel reply