Maybe it was because the response to “Peekaboo Family” was far better than expected.
Since releasing the children’s song, Hyunseung had been caught in an even busier streak of work.
For a full two months….
“Ha… maybe I shouldn’t have started this.”
But there was no time to regret it.
Out of the blue, a separate “Peekaboo Channel” branched off from the Yellow Pong channel.
To match that, he had to tweak the original and produce a variety of content uploads: a gugak (traditional Korean) version, an electronic version, a trot version.
On top of that—
Versions swapping Oppa Bear for Hyunga Bear, Eonni Bear, and Noona Bear were added.
The result:
[“Peekaboo Family,” the next‑gen IP to follow “Baby Shark Family.”]
Unexpectedly, a massive feat.
— Global company Yellow Pong Company announced that its NewTube “Peekaboo Channel” has surpassed 1 million subscribers. Among Yellow Pong’s NewTube channels, it earned the Silver Button in the shortest time ever, quickly followed by the Gold Button, and has blasted past 100 million cumulative views, continuing its high‑speed hit streak. Achieved in not even two months…
No, it was even more than that.
— Yellow Pong Company stated, “As the driving force of a box‑office whirlwind succeeding ‘Baby Shark Family,’ ‘Peekaboo Family’ is expanding its fandom worldwide. Beyond simple content development, we plan to broaden business domains on multiple fronts.”
He ended up with an enormous stream of royalties. He hadn’t done it for the money, but he’d built a revenue structure on par with a decent pop hit.
— All eyes are on whether “Peekaboo Family” will spark a global syndrome beyond Korea.
And that wasn’t all.
A children’s song pulled off the rare feat of entering the Top 100 of the biggest domestic streaming platform’s chart.
No. 97 Peekaboo Family – Yellow Pong
“Hey, Hyunseung.”
Manager Kim shook his head in sheer amazement.
“Do you think this situation even makes sense?”
“What about it doesn’t make sense?”
“I mean, I’ve never seen a kids’ song at ninety‑eight.”
“I’ve never seen it either.”
“Right? This is your first time seeing this too, isn’t it?”
He then captured the chart screen. To show to his juniors, and their juniors, and the juniors under them.
He may not have trudged through an eternity, but in ten years in this field he had laughed and cried to the chart every day.
He’d seen movie or drama OSTs inexplicably catch fire and crash into the chart more times than he could count….
But a children’s song entering the real‑time Top 100—this truly was a first.
Watching Manager Kim, whose screws seemed loose as he kept chanting “Hey, ho,” Hyunseung spoke up.
“Manager”
“Yeah, our gold nugget, what is it.”
“Quit it with the ‘gold nugget.’”
“Want me to upgrade it?”
“To what?”
“Our lucky charm.”
Hyunseung shuddered, rubbing both arms like he had goosebumps.
“Why are you being creepy.”
“Then how about ‘silver nugget’?”
“Let’s compromise at ‘bronze nugget.’”
“Oh, that’s good too.”
Just like that, Hyunseung was suddenly dubbed “Bronze Nugget,” and continued.
“Do you know much about Kim Dojun?”
“You mean the Team 1 guy who’s Dohee’s older brother?”
Before he was Kim Dojun, he was known as the Team 1 employee who was guardian to Kim Dohee.
One way or another, since Dohee had led to this song, shouldn’t some of it be returned to that family?
And that kid had kept the secret this whole time; he ought to give her something in thanks.
“Yeah. That Kim Dojun.”
Hyunseung nodded slightly.
“Dunno. He’s not our team, so I don’t know details. But I heard his dad died in a car accident and his mom was badly hurt and can’t use one leg. So the only one earning money in that family is Kim Dojun.”
Manager Kim added, wearing a somewhat somber look.
“Must be a heavy load on his shoulders. A sick mother and a little kid sister… Heaven sure is heartless sometimes.”
Hyunseung hummed, “Mmm, I know that much too.”
“How do you know?”
“The little squirt told me.”
“Since when did you get so close with the squirt?”
“Anyway, you don’t know anything more specific?”
“Nope, that’s as far as my info goes.”
When Hyunseung muttered, “That’s not much help,” Manager Kim sprang to his feet, offended.
“Hey, if I looked, I could dig up his second cousin twice removed! I just don’t know because he’s not our team!”
“Then pretend he is our team and dig up everything down to how many spoons are in his second cousin twice removed’s house.”
And to Manager Kim, who asked why, he answered calmly:
“I’ve got a ridiculous amount of royalties with nowhere to spend them.”
“…What?”
Manager Kim sat there, dumbstruck, unable to say anything for a while.
Kim Dojun felt downright out of place at the scene before him.
“Um….”
And the person across from him was someone he had virtually no contact with.
“May I ask why you called me…?”
He was now at LS Entertainment headquarters, summoned by none other than Internal Director Choi Geunsik.
“I called you today to inform you about a special in‑house welfare provision.”
“Pardon? Special in‑house welfare?”
“Yes. You can think of it as a program prepared for people who work hard for the company’s growth.”
“I haven’t contributed much to LS Entertainment’s growth, and I’m far too lacking an employee to deserve that.”
Director Choi smiled without a sound.
“Appreciating that humility, you have been selected as this year’s recipient of the special welfare benefit.”
“May I ask… what kind of benefit it is?”
“A salary raise as a baseline, plus an apartment near the LS Entertainment building, a personal vehicle, and coverage of medical expenses for you and your family and your child’s schooling costs.”
“Sorry…? Apartment, vehicle, medical expenses, and even schooling costs… all of them?”
Director Choi paused, as if to say it was too soon to be surprised, and added:
“Since you’re single, we can substitute your sister’s schooling costs.”
Listening in silence, shock was plain on Kim Dojun’s face.
No wonder. By his own reckoning, he hadn’t achieved any noteworthy feats nor was he the team’s ace.
What’s more, in over two years at LS Entertainment, he’d never even heard rumors of such a benefit.
“I—I think that’s far too much for me to receive.”
“Too much or not, it can’t be helped. It’s already decided internally.”
Dojun sprang up. There were too many oddities to just bow and say “thank you.”
Right. Why was it Director Choi, not Manager Oh or Executive Director Park from his own Team 1, but the head of rival Team 2, delivering this?
“Please sit.”
Sensing his thoughts, Director Choi adjusted his rimmed glasses and continued in a calm tone.
“If it’s hard to accept, shall I tell you who recommended you?”
A subtle pressure rippled under his placid delivery. Dojun felt that if he pressed further, it would be unwise, and meekly asked, “The recommender?”
“Yes. The person who nominated you for the special welfare benefit.”
Was it Manager Oh? Could it be Executive Director Park? If not…
Who on earth? And was it even okay to ask?
He’d often been warned by seniors that behind Director Choi’s affable face were sharp fangs, so his lips wouldn’t easily part.
“Then, um….”
At last, unable to fight curiosity, Dojun carefully asked:
“If it’s not rude… could you tell me who the recommender is?”
Director Choi lifted his teacup and let the moment hang.
Clack.
Setting down the cooled cup, he answered:
“Manager Kim Woohyun.”
“Sorry?”
The name that emerged was someone Dojun had not even remotely expected.
“Hey, ho.”
The young woman hummed the song as she piled a thick layer of strawberry jam on toast.
Scritch, scritch.
This was the woman who had first spotted the drone display over the Han River: Kim Yunha, twenty years old this year.
“Hey, ho.”
These days she was completely taken with the children’s song “Peekaboo Family.”
[Even if it isn’t the ordinary family shape the world has set.
Whatever form your family takes, may every family please be happy.]
The words that floated in the drone show had blown away the gloom that had eaten deep into her heart.
Even if there are only two of us….
Just as the line said, now our family can be happy too, right?
“Dad, eat this before you head out!”
“Wow, my girl made this?”
“Of course. It’s been a while since I whipped something up for you. You need a full belly to work hard.”
“Hey, that toast got nicely charred! By the way, is the part‑time job okay? Dad can give you a bit more allowance…”
“No, I’m fine. I really enjoy it. Lately I just love meeting people.”
“My girl’s gotten so lively these days. I love seeing it.”
After that, to close the gap with her father, she began tearing down the wall of distance she’d stacked so high.
All because of one children’s song.
“Hey, ho!”
After seeing her dad off, Kim Yunha sat down at her computer by habit.
She naturally popped a Peekaboo Family video up on one side of the monitor and checked the news.
No doubt.
Judging by the positive articles, view counts, comments, and chart positions, “Peekaboo Family” was a huge hit.
Not just kids.
Even “kidults” were captivated: the sticky melody and lyrics and the deep message the song carried.
It was sweeping generations: a full‑blown Peekaboo craze had begun.
Right.
People were raving that it proposed a new paradigm for children’s songs.
“Hey, ho!”
Seeing the chart position, Yunha smiled as if it were her own achievement. She’d been smiling a lot more lately.
Truly, regardless of genre, she’d thought it was a song that simply had to do well, and it was doing even better than she’d hoped. Nothing could be better.
But isn’t there something I can do to help?
“Hm….”
She’d limited herself to lurking on community posts and reading articles, but today she wanted to do something to repay the comfort she’d received.
“My writing’s not great, though….”
She stared down the screen for a while.
Tap, tap.
Suddenly struck by something, her fingers flew over the keys.
But it didn’t last long. Yunha’s busy hands stopped with a snap.
“Huh?”
Her eyes widened and trembled.
“Whoa!”
And then a cry of shock burst through her room.
“HS?!”
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