O&M Label.
Founded and still steered by CEO Baek Gyu-ho, it is the most unshakeable top label in Korea.
And from the very beginning one exclusive composer has stood side-by-side with the label: Jayble.
He even owns director-level shares and is the company’s flagship songwriter.
Some murmur that he’s “been pushed aside by HS,” that he’s “only No. 2 now.”
Even so, it is an undeniable fact that he remains one of the most powerful hit-makers in the Korean music scene.
Inside O&M itself? His stature needs no explanation.
Because the label is focused on music rather than idol management, most of the in-house composers and engineers entered the company admiring Jayble.
At this very moment, a senior engineer stood with arms crossed, blocking a rookie engineer’s path.
“Hey, do you have no sense of rank?”
Yet the rookie, unwilling to yield, shot back in a clear voice.
“Senior, you told us—assistant jobs go to the youngest.”
“That depends on who the producer is. A heavyweight needs a matching assistant.”
The reason for their squabble?
They were both fighting to be the assistant on…
“I need to assist someone like Jayble if I’m going to grow faster.”
“Fine. I’m going today, so save your growth for next time.”
“Be honest. You’re curious because it’s a collab with HS, right?”
—the Jayble × HS collaboration session.
“That’s not it. I’m there to show the strength of our label to an outside composer.”
The rookie puffed out his lower lip and muttered, “Liar.”
“Come on, don’t sulk over that.”
Watching the kid pout made the senior feel a little guilty, but he could not back down.
I want to go too, damn it.
Senior engineer Shim Woo-jin had decided: an opportunity like this would never come again.
HS was a near-legendary figure in the industry. He had to meet him.
Especially because of this message:
[Need one engineer only. Tight-lipped, guaranteed skill. Come to my studio.]
The text began with “tight-lipped.” No way could he send a raw recruit.
“I’ll buy you a great lunch tomorrow, so don’t be salty.”
“Well, I guess there’s no choice. But you have to give us a full report!”
“Deal. While I’m gone, make sure the other sessions stay on schedule.”
Like a warrior marching to battle, Shim strode away.
But why the emphasis on a tight mouth?
He would find the answer as soon as he reached the studio.
In front of Jayble’s studio, Shim froze.
Behind that door were Jayble… and HS.
The thought made an electric tension crawl over his skin, but also lit a fire: Show O&M’s muscle.
He vowed to display every ounce of his engineering skill.
One… two… three—!
He knocked lightly.
No reply.
Do I just go in?
He eased the door open.
“M-Mr. Jayble…?”
Inside he saw one familiar back—and next to it a back he’d never seen.
“I’m telling you, the variation belongs here.”
“That’s too predictable. Boring.”
Dry tones tossed back and forth. Could be mistaken for a fight, but…
“Fine, then where would you vary it?”
“I’d do it two bars later, here.”
“Why’d you wait till now? Apply it and play.”
They actually sounded perfectly in sync.
“Here, like this…”
The unknown back—surely HS—deleted the original section before Jayble even finished and started punching in new chords.
Ta, tadak, tadadak.
No hesitation at all: the empty bars filled in seconds.
Is he… a monster?
A crisp Tack! and the speakers spilled the result.
♬ ♬ ♬
Barely thirty seconds of material, yet the progression grabbed the ears and made you ache to hear the whole track.
And this? Something he’d just laid down from scratch.
So this is HS…
All Shim’s earlier enthusiasm evaporated.
Am I even needed here?
He stood awkwardly, not even announcing his arrival.
“What the—”
Jayble spotted him.
“If you’re here, say so.”
The other man turned his head.
Gasp.
Not a monster but definitely an alien.
That face can’t belong to a composer. If I had that face, I’d debut as an actor and own every CF in the country…
Jayble was good-looking, sure. But HS? On another plane. Aura and all.
So that’s why he said “tight-lipped.” Don’t leak HS’s secret.
Shim bowed so low his crown showed.
“You were so focused I couldn’t interrupt. I’m engineer Shim Woo-jin. Please take care of me.”
Alien or not, this would be an incredible session.
Four songs locked for the collab EP.
One: sung by HS and Jayble themselves.
One: at HS’s urging, sung by Ahn Jiho, leader and main vocal of The Moon.
The other two: one LS artist, one O&M artist.
Booking features was a breeze. Who’d turn down an HS × Jayble record?
But in the process, Shim was dying.
“Just keep an eye on the rough mixes, that’s all.”
When he’d first heard that, he felt useless. He hadn’t come just to “keep an eye” on levels.
Yet the feeling didn’t last.
Do they even know what “rough” means?
HS never passed over a single tiny corner. His finesse bordered on madness. Jayble joined the torture: four straight nights without sleep and only two songs fully mixed.
HS-booked singers Ahn Jiho and Jung Arin survived 24-plus-hour sessions and left, laughing that this was “mild” compared to rumor.
The world has gone insane.
Two songs left.
Next up: O&M vocalist Kim Bomi.
“It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Kim Bomi. Please take care of me, HS-nim!”
Shim wanted to whisper, Run, Bomi.
Huge eyes blinked, glued to HS’s face.
We’ll see how long that smile lasts.
“Skip the formalities. Hop in and give me one take straight through.”
HS’s curt order earned a sheepish grin. She walked into the booth.
Tap, tap.
Shim knew after four days: Don’t go in there, you fool.
That booth was a pit called “Again” you couldn’t escape until you collapsed.
Those two in the control room? Maybe not human but devilish beasts.
Hellfire might be kinder.
Not too late, run…
His silent scream died as the booth door shut.
“Your voice is warmed up, right? I’m rolling right away.”
“We’ll handle the last track ourselves. You can go.”
Set free by HS, Shim fled the studio like a man released after twenty years in prison. His back screamed he could not stay one second longer.
Ordinarily he would have insisted on finishing, but a week of catnaps had drained him dry.
The two composers were equally worn but far from done.
“Are you okay to cut vocals now? Your throat must be shot.”
Jayble secretly prayed HS would suggest finishing another day.
Instead:
“Nope. Let’s just get it over with.”
Pride, damn pride, made Jayble nod.
Only one song left: the duet.
No one expected professional-singer perfection. This was an event number. There was no need for absurd detail.
“You lay down your part. My throat’s wrecked, so I’ll record later and comp everything.”
Throat raw as a desert and talking hurt.
“Fine.”
With a dry reply, HS walked straight into the booth. He looked entirely at home in there.
“We’ll start with the chorus.”
HS merely dipped his chin. Jayble worried.
What if he can’t even keep time?
He tapped the console edge in quarter notes.
Tak, tak, tak.
Please let this be smooth.
Then HS started.
—Only a year, and my life’s flipped upside-down.
He hadn’t expected much.
—Standards once aimed at me now turn toward everyone else.
Composer, not singer. He’d overlook minor flaws.
—Some will curse my name. That’s only natural. I’ll be the villain if needed.
Mid-baritone, rich and soft, no fancy tricks yet utterly pleasant.
—So I’ll live my way, knowing only myself.
Emotion alive despite the blank face.
—Still you remain by me, the names engraved in my heart.
Good vocals?
What is this guy?
Jayble had 10 years in the industry yet nothing shocked him more.
Is this what genius really is?
He was a master of every step: writing, arranging, directing, coaching, and singing.
Jayble gave no feedback and the take ended.
Tap.
The door opened and HS strolled out.
Jayble’s self-image crumbled.
“Was it not to your liking?”
“No, it was fine.”
“Then why that face?”
“Nothing.”
“All right, I’m heading out.”
“Stay. Let me comp and bounce first.”
“Sure. Send it when you’re done.”
Zero lingering, HS exited.
Click.
Jayble slumped over the console.
“Ha…”
He’s facing a wall—so high, so thick, unclimbable.
Tears welled.
Little Jayble, once called a prodigy, had no immunity to this.
He wept like a child.
It was the first time a song had made him cry, the first time awe had pushed him to tears.
“Hh… hu-huh…”
In that instant, HS etched himself into Jayble’s life as a first that would never fade until the day Jayble closed his eyes for good.
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