Hyunseung left his project window open and repeatedly opened and closed both palms.
Something feels missing.
He shook his hands lightly, then put one on the mouse to get back to work.
Knock, knock… knock.
A short, irregular tapping he’d never heard before. He jumped to his feet.
Who is it?
He stepped toward the door, half expecting the worst, when…
“Composer‑nim!”
Manager Kim slipped through the cracked door with several singers.
“What the…?”
The studio was suddenly crowded, and Hyunseung, drained, scolded them.
“Did you come on a group sightseeing tour?”
Kim only chuckled at the rebuke and signaled the others with a glance.
“Unload, everyone.”
At once Seo Jini, Jung Arin, Yoon Jaeyi, and Kang Hajun hurried to set the snacks and coffees they carried on the table.
“What’s all this?”
Leaning on the sofa like a noir hero, Kim shouted grandly,
“You think we’d come empty‑handed?”
Arin, eyes sparkling like a quokka begging for praise, added,
“We really swept that famous bakery nearby clean!”
Yoon Jaeyi picked up the baton,
“And we packed lunches from the famous Korean set‑menu place so you can eat today.”
Hajun, silently ferrying extra coffees, explained,
“We brought one‑liter cans; I’ll put them in the fridge. Grab one whenever you want.”
At last, every gaze turned to Seo Jini, who had stayed quiet.
“I just came for the Team 2 artist meeting. They said they were coming to congratulate you, so I tagged along.”
He glanced around and added curtly, “I brought bulk ice cream. Eat it before it melts.”
Crowds annoyed Hyunseung, but the mountain of food calmed him.
“Well, since you bought it…”
Why was such a small line so embarrassing?
“Th‑thanks… I’ll enjoy it.”
He shivered at hearing himself say it.
Better change the topic fast.
“So, a Team 2 meeting, huh? Hajun, why are you here?”
“My heart’s with Team 2.”
“Mind if I quote that to Deputy Director Park?”
“You can… if you’ll take me in, Composer‑nim.”
Kim jumped in. “I’d welcome Hajun anytime.”
Right. If Manager Kim had to read Hajun’s morning texts every day, he wouldn’t say that.
How messy.
Waving both hands, Hyunseung said, “Okay, could everyone leave now?”
Scanning the people hogging his sofa, he added, “This isn’t a playground.”
Kim stuck out his lower lip and muttered,
“Then why’d you babysit the kid so well if it isn’t a daycare…”
At that offhand line, Arin, Jaeyi, and Jini pounced.
“You babysat a kid?”
“A kid? Whose kid?”
“He didn’t make her cry, right? He took care of her?”
As questions flew, Kim calmed them and explained,
“One staffer had to bring his little sister; Hyunseung watched her for a while.”
“How old?”
“Four, I think.”
“Four’s supposed to be the hardest age… He really looked after her?”
“Yeah, he held her so close I thought they were father and daughter.”
Everyone exclaimed “Oh?”, surprised yet intrigued.
Feigning boredom, Hyunseung asked, “So that troublesome brat has somewhere to stay now?”
The question caused quite a stir.
Called her troublesome, but sounds like he misses her, Hajun thought, jotting in his notebook: Secretly likes kids.
Yoon Jaeyi mused, More family‑oriented than I thought… I’m not successful enough to repay him yet, sinking into pointless worry.
Arin recalled meeting his kid sister in the elevator and smiled faintly. He’s close with his sister…must be the buddy‑type dad…
Seo Jini side‑eyed his face. Kids with that face would be cute.
Kim, excited, kept talking, then noticed something odd.
“Sharing his lunch, too… wait.”
Each woman was looking in a different direction, wearing a different expression.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Manager Kim, I’m listening,” Hajun said. The only one, apparently.
“Knew I could count on you.” Kim proudly patted his shoulder.
“Um, Manager,” Hajun pressed, notebook and pen ready, “after the lunch boxes, what did he share?”
His academic zeal was on fire.
Kim Dojun had prepared a modest gift to thank composer “HS” for watching his sister.
“Oppaa, you have to give this to Flaming‑Mask‑Man!”
It was a letter Dohee had begged him to deliver.
Worried she might have written something rude like “play with me again,” he peeked inside.
Wiggling letters crawled like earthworms:
Flaming‑Mask‑Man! It’s Dohee! I’m keeping the secret safe! So please give this quickly!
Near the bottom, filling the blank space:
Do the airplane whoosh again, too!
There was a doodle of what seemed to be HS’s helmet.
Give quickly? Airplane whoosh? And what secret is she keeping?
And another thought: Really need to teach her Hangul.
Still, meeting HS had become a cherished memory for Dohee.
Step, step. Lost in thought, he reached the door marked HS.
Knock, knock, knock.
Meeting someone from the rival team was rare; tension buzzed.
“…Hmm.”
A whole minute passed with no reply. He knocked again, twice, three times.
“Out to lunch?”
He grasped the knob; the heavy soundproof door creaked open.
“Um, composer‑nim?”
Through the slit, he saw a quiet room and heard the faint tap‑tap of keys.
Then the back of a head under studio headphones entered view.
He’s really focused.
He was still working, oblivious to any presence.
“A.N.P.” isn’t even that old… HS’s songs are still on the charts yet he’s already starting the next one.
Team 1 always schedules around his releases. Honestly, he wished HS would become a Team 1 exclusive.
Genius.
With reverence, Dojun watched the back of HS’s head. Just from his wrist snap and the chords appearing on‑screen, another monumental track was clearly taking shape, one bound to shake the scene again.
I’ll just leave the gift and note.
He slid them through the crack and closed the door.
Click.
Outside, he danced in place and texted:
Manager Oh, emergency, emergency!
Thus began a quiet game of nerves only Team 1 knew—Team 2 none the wiser.
[Yellow Pong]
Starting with songs and animated tales, the brand expanded to infant products and books, even boasting its own children’s musical troupe. It’s a globally famous children’s label.
“Haa…”
Assistant Manager Lee Jin‑wook, proud to have been scouted there, was now mired in an unspeakable worry.
“I’m going crazy…”
He still hadn’t produced a children’s song to top the mega‑hit “Baby Shark.”
He kept tweaking melodies to churn out Penguin Family, Lion Family, Dino Family, Kangaroo Family. It was the “family series.”
“I’ve got to deliver something.”
More than half a year since joining, yet no standout result; the worry grew daily.
He needed a hit before the next review to earn promotion and propose in style. This year’s promotion looked out of reach.
They had an in‑house songwriter, but kids’ songs were short and simple; every tune sounded similar with only lyrics swapped.
Occasionally they commissioned outsiders or received submissions, but all were equally mediocre.
“Damn!”
The Yellow Pong execs he’d seen would never accept “good enough.”
Hands clasped, he sighed deeply.
Do I compromise again and release another family song?
Wasn’t there a fresh, addictive, next‑gen children’s tune?
If there’s a god…
He almost wanted to grab Him and throw a tantrum.
Please answer me…!
He’d been begging a nonexistent deity for a while when—
Ding!
A notification startled him.
“Perfect timing.”
A mail alert glowed bottom‑right.
Click.
Moving the mouse, he opened the email with a bored face, then smirked at the subject:
From: Composer HS
As if.
Hello, composer HS here. Briefly:
- Do not use the name HS in any promotion.
- No interference in production.
Accept these terms and I’ll collaborate on children’s content. A 20‑second demo is attached; please listen and reply quickly.
It contained official LS‑Entertainment address, signature and all.
Jin‑wook snorted. Hackers loved irresistible attachments.
“As if HS has nothing better to do than write kids’ songs.”
He clicked [Delete].
Rrrring!
A landline on a colleague’s desk rang loudly.
“Jeez.”
He nearly bit his tongue mid‑yawn.
“Media Content Div 1, Kim Ah‑yeong speaking… Pardon? LS Entertainment?”
Intrigued, Jin‑wook checked the caller ID: not an extension.
02‑xxxxxxx spam?
He googled the number.
“What…?”
It was LS Entertainment’s main line.
“No way.”
He yanked the email from trash, downloaded the file. If it really was HS, missing this would be idiotic.
He jammed earbuds in with shaking hands and hit play on the 20‑second file.
“Mm‑?!”
The very first melody made him bite his tongue for real.
“Gah!”
Wincing from the pain only a moment, he leapt up.
“O‑oh Lord!”
♬ ♬ ♬
Right now, the exhilarating melody in his ears felt like a divine answer.
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