The smear piece someone maliciously wrote spread in an instant.
Gay. Drugs. A lewd private life.
They cleverly exploited the fact that his face wasn’t publicly known, waving around photos of some man with a vaguely similar silhouette and insisting it was “HS.”
Hyunseung, however, stayed calm.
The shards of memory that had been jabbing into him suddenly slid back into place, and his mind went still.
And with good reason.
Contrary to what he’d feared, the public was quiet.
[What do you all think about HS being gay?]
↳ I think: who cares.
↳ Right?? If a person likes a person, why am I supposed to think anything?
↳ Also it’s not even confirmed; slapping a “gay” label on him like it’s fact would just hurt HS;
↳ Whatever. If I can’t have him anyway, I’ll just hope he is gay.
Something he normally would never do: monitoring the threads.
[ But is the HS drug thing real? ]
↳ I’m honestly just curious—does this guy even have time for drugs? He seems stupid busy lol;
↳ Exactly lol. I heard he’s jumping straight into a drama OST—when’s he got time for club drug parties?
↳ fr, he probably doesn’t even have time to pop out for coffee near his place; which is why I’d like to deliver it to him…
Overall, the mood was not to believe it.
Or else it was a shrug—people didn’t care.
Above all, unlike Dad Kim’s earlier, blood-chilling “Should we track them all down and crush them?” line, the company stayed quiet.
Of course, that didn’t mean they were doing nothing. They’d assembled an outside legal team and were moving in silence.
He really is someone who deserves that head-of-division seat.
Watching Kim Dad move quickly and discreetly to unmask the paper company that had spread the smear, Hyunseung made a vow.
From now on—no more, no less—only three pranks on him a day.
If he kept teasing too much, he had a feeling he’d get chewed out, hard.
Anyway, with things proceeding smoothly despite his worries, Hyunseung regained his equilibrium. Unlike in his previous life, he now had people who believed him and would respond for him—so there was nothing to fear.
Ah, there was one person making a racket over the rumor.
“Why is LS just sitting on its hands and doing nothing?”
Jayble.
“I’m mobilizing every reporter I know to run rebuttals, and you guys are just standing there with your arms folded watching the building burn.”
He’d already said after the last round of gay-rumor nonsense that they should avoid each other for a while, but now that the talk had flared again, he’d chased Hyunseung all the way to his studio.
Ah, and to hand over the guitar he’d promised.
“It’ll quiet down on its own.”
“Wow, could you be any more blasé.”
Looking at Hyunseung yawning wide, Jable thumped his own chest. Right, this punk was not the type to fret over things like this.
He grumbled that he’d come to the wrong place, then abruptly changed tack.
“You’ve ticked somebody off recently, haven’t you?”
“Ticked somebody off?”
“Yeah. This is clearly a setup designed to take you down.”
“I haven’t done anything like that.”
“Think. The way you are, you look like you’d be racking up grudges left and right.”
“I really haven’t.”
“I heard you just took on a drama OST. You didn’t do anything to make enemies among the people there?”
“Nope. I haven’t even contacted them directly.”
At that, Jable half-closed his eyes. “Hmm.”
To be fair, these days you didn’t have to do anything; being successful was enough to paint a target on your back.
By that standard…
HS had to be a target for a lot of people.
“So how’d you end up doing a drama OST? Is it because that kid, whatever his name is—Ahn Ji-ho—got cast as the male lead?”
To change the mood, Jable steered the conversation elsewhere.
“That’s not it. One of the songs I sold outright is being used there for OST sampling, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of some half-baked composer arranging my track.”
“‘Half-baked composer’?” Jable echoed.
“Yeah. Apparently, it was supposed to be that guy Hidden.”
“Hidden? Then did you yank the project away mid-stream?”
“From his point of view, I guess that’s one way to see it.”
Now Jable understood and let out a sigh.
Right.
This smear had Hidden’s fingerprints all over it.
He burned me too when I was a rookie.
When Jable’s face suddenly went grim, Hyunseung asked what was wrong, but he just stood up without answering.
In any case, even knowing this didn’t mean they could do anything right now.
Back then too, he’d only had a hunch it was Hidden; because the hit jobs ran through a paper company funded out of China, he’d never been able to nail down proof.
And without hard evidence, picking a fight was pointless—Hidden’s position in the industry was too entrenched.
Right.
Charge in without proof and it would only turn into a mud-wrestle.
Besides, this kid hadn’t taken any real damage; the one stewing right now was probably Hidden.
“Anyway, watch yourself so you don’t rack up grudges.”
Jayble tapped the guitar case he’d brought.
“And treat that guitar like treasure. It was hell to track down. I’m giving it to you special.”
“I’m paying a premium for it and you’re still peacocking? Bit much, isn’t it?”
“See? This is how you earn grudges.”
With that, he left the studio.
“Hmph.”
He stood for a moment before the closed door.
“Hidden…” he muttered, voice sunk low.
Since becoming head of division, Kim Woohyun’s schedule was murder—he could have used two bodies—but even so, he never skipped meetings with the outside legal team to hunt whoever had spread Hyunseung’s smear.
“Good afternoon.”
When he stepped into the reserved conference room, a man and a woman in suits rose and bowed.
The woman with a short bob and red horn-rimmed glasses offered her card and dipped her head again.
“I’m Han Su-ji, deputy representative of Gaon Law Firm, retained counsel.”
“I’m Kim Woohyun, head of management at LS Entertainment.”
“Shall we sit and talk?”
Following her hand, Kim sat alone across from them, tugged his tie snug, and got straight to it.
“How long will it take?”
The young man seated to Han Su-ji’s right answered with a leisurely smile.
“A week is plenty.”
“Really?”
“Yes, of course.”
He nodded so grandly it bordered on arrogant.
If he was answering ahead of the elder-looking attorneys, he must be good.
Then the lawyer flashed a slick gleam in his eyes and asked:
“What do you want to do afterward?”
“Afterward?”
“Once we find them—what measures do you want to take?”
“What else? We’ll take every measure available and make the rest of their lives inconvenient.”
At that, the lawyer clapped like a seal, amused.
“Ah, that answer is exactly my taste.”
Hand to chest, a little flushed, he went on:
“I’ve been bored out of my skull handling old geezers’ shareholder fights. Nice to feel the heart racing again.”
What the hell? He did not seem… normal.
…Tsk. Can I really trust this guy?
As Kim cut him a doubtful look, Han Su-ji scolded the man.
“Eun-woo, how many times have I told you not to talk like that in a professional setting?”
The young lawyer—apparently Eun-woo—just shrugged it off and produced a business card.
“With respect, as long as we deliver exactly what the client wants, that’s what matters, isn’t it?”
He waggled the card between his fingers, brows doing a cheeky dance.
“Right, Division Head Kim?”
“Right. Just handle it quietly and well.”
Snatching the card, Kim answered flatly. Eun-woo let out a hearty laugh.
“Ah, you’re as crisp as you look. I like it. I’m excited.”
No matter how he looked at him, the guy did not seem entirely… standard.
This time, Jayble went not to his usual salon, but to another one.
“Oh my, Jable! How long has it been!”
The salon owner came running on stocking feet to greet him.
“Yes, it’s been a while.”
He’d come here when he’d first stepped onto broadcast sets as a rookie, then stopped—nearly ten years ago?
The owner had aged too.
“I was so sad you never came by, but it’s really good to see you.”
For form’s sake, Jable lifted just the corners of his lips, then immediately scanned the interior.
He hadn’t come after ten years to reminisce.
And then:
“Hidden’s here, right?”
He asked, eyes suddenly razor-sharp.
“H-Hi, Hidden?”
The owner’s fluster showed; she glanced around. A nearby staffer chirped, guileless:
“If you mean Mr. Hidden, he’s getting his makeup done right now!”
“Ik,” the owner winced.
Years ago, she’d mistakenly booked Hidden and Jayble in the same time slot. Hidden had shown up late and thrown a fit that he had to go first; rookie Jable had been forced to leave mid-makeup, practically chased out.
After that, Jable had spent a long time under a cloud of plagiarism suspicion. At a composers’ meetup he’d heard, by chance, that Hidden had engineered it.
Most likely… he’d done it because having that rookie eyesore getting a slot while he waited was intolerable—petty to the core.
So he’s still living like that.
“‘Mr. Hidden,’ my ass,” Jable muttered, stepped closer to the owner, and asked in a voice laid low:
“Where is that bastard right now?”
The owner made a pleading face and signaled the staffer with her eyes.
“Please show Mr. Jayble in.”
“Ah, yes!”
The staffer, clueless, smiled and beckoned him along.
“I’m sorry, but could I trouble you for a very cold glass of water?”
At his request, the staffer dashed off and returned with a cup packed with ice.
“Thank you.”
Jable took it, hand tight around the glass, and smiled.
Outside a certain room, following the staffer’s lead.
Knock, knock.
Before any answer came, he opened the door and went in.
“Long time no see.”
Hidden, dozing, met Jayble’s eyes in the mirror; he narrowed them, then smirked.
“What brings you here? Didn’t you switch salons after that?”
“Of course I did. I came to see you.”
“Me? Are we that close?”
Jable stepped behind Hidden’s chair.
SPLAAAAASH—!
And dumped the entire glass of ice water over Hidden’s head.
“Gyaaaah! What the hell are you doing!”
As Hidden shuddered and tried to spring up, Jayble clamped a brutal hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down.
“Senior, I figured you needed to come to your senses, so I gave you a cold wash. Feeling clear now?”
“Y-y-you psycho! What the hell is wrong with you!”
“Maybe try keeping your head on straight.”
“What?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t know what you pulled ten years ago?”
“Y-you little bastard, what are you talking about!”
“I hear I wasn’t the only one. You sent plenty of other composers packing like that. Still doing it?”
Meeting Hidden’s eyes in the mirror, Jable leaned in and murmured at his ear:
“Just like you look right now. Pathetic.”
As Hidden’s face swelled blotchy red like it would burst, Jayble laughed.
“God, this is killing me.”
“Isn’t this guy nuts?”
Laughing until tears pricked the corners of his eyes, Jayble tilted his head with an oddly off expression.
“Why was I ever scared of trash like this?”
“Y-you—”
“Senior, let’s see each other often at our salon.”
With that, Jayble left the room where he’d once been chased out on a light, easy stride.
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