Kim Woohyun couldn’t help being taken aback.
“Looks like what I need is right here.”
Pointing at the video out of nowhere and saying he had business? Kim Woohyun could only tilt his head.
The music playing in the video was a song Hyunseung made, but what “business” could that be?
That question was answered when—
“I was going to ask you to list up suitable instruments because I couldn’t find the right one.”
—Hyunseung spoke again.
“But you’ve just recommended the perfect instrument like this. Thank you.”
The “instrument” Hyunseung meant was probably the singer in the video they were watching, “Sarah Stewart.”
She was the one being called the hottest rising star across the U.S. right now; hadn’t her debut song sat at No. 1 on the Billboard chart for over two months?
And such a person was suddenly being called “the right instrument,” with a thank-you on top.
“As expected, Division Head Kim, you’re awfully good at your job.”
He must be asking him to contact “Sarah Stewart” as the instrument for the next track.
Dear God, what kind of trial is this…
No.
Maybe this is actually good?
Right.
It’s better to have a specific person named outright.
It would be harder work to select an instrument (*singer) list that fits Hyunseung’s finicky taste.
“So… you want this singer as the next instrument, right?”
Nod.
“It has to be this singer, huh?”
Nod.
“Looking for a different singer with a similar voice is a no, right?”
Nod.
Hyunseung answered with his head. Judging by the sparkle in his eyes, he didn’t look likely to change his mind easily.
“Got it. She’s with Yunis Music Group, so the contact conditions will probably be fussy, but…”
Wait a second.
A memory popped into Kim Woohyun’s mind and he snapped his fingers.
“If it’s Yunis Music Group, they’re the ones who came looking for you!”
“Did they?”
“You don’t remember? The day you went to shoot as a special guest for Music Core, they came, couldn’t meet you, and left.”
“I don’t really remember.”
Hyunseung shrugged like he truly was hearing it for the first time.
Honestly…
He was pretty sure Hyunseung was the only composer on earth who could forget that someone from Yunis Music Group had come looking for him.
“Anyway, you only remember what you want to.”
“My brain’s out of storage just with melodies.”
Under his breath, Kim Woohyun muttered, “I’m sure it is,” then straightened his collar and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
“To go get Sarah Stewart,” he replied, puffing himself up.
“Oh, bold.”
“What, is Yunis Music Group such a big deal?”
“It is a big deal.”
“That’s true.”
Kim Woohyun smacked his lips, embarrassed. Granted, Yunis Music Group was a global distributor and label. Even getting in touch wasn’t easy.
Still.
Given that Sarah Stewart, who rarely even showed her face, had joined a challenge to Hyunseung’s song, it could safely be read as she liked it to a certain degree.
More than that, didn’t Austin, the head of Yunis Music Group, once personally come looking to talk to Hyunseung?
There’d been no follow-up since then, sure.
But the person “HS,” a.k.a. Hyunseung, was not someone they could afford to ignore.
Right.
If they turned down this proposal, he was sure the party who’d lose out would be Yunis Music Group.
“Yunis Music Group is an enormous group, that’s true, but!”
Then Kim Woohyun set his hands firmly on his hips and added:
“We’ve got God-ches, don’t we.”
Of course, the reply he got was just—
“That sounds like a line from some B-grade anime.”
—nothing more, but Kim Woohyun wore a small smile.
Right.
Don’t they say a first-rate pro smiles even when sad or struggling?
“Dad’s off to work.”
With a confident stride, Kim Woohyun turned and left the studio.
Thud!
He felt it was a relief that what Hyunseung had asked wasn’t something unrealistic.
Right. It wasn’t an impossible ask at all.
Right now, Korea had forgotten the composer named “Choi Jihyun.”
Yes.
At present the public had given all their hearts to the composer “HS.”
Strictly speaking, it was funny since they were both Hyunseung, but the current was flowing perfectly toward “HS.”
As if…
As if someone were praying that he absolutely had to succeed.
[“‘Villain daddy’ challenge shows no sign of cooling… holds No. 1 on the charts for consecutive weeks”]
[“Billboard goddess Sarah Stewart joins the ‘Daddy Challenge’—hits 100M views in a flash…”]
[ “Moon Beomjae donates all ‘Villain daddy’ proceeds to single-parent families… says, ‘I support all the fathers in the world’” ]
News about Villain daddy were pouring onto the portals like rain, and challenge videos from celebrities.
And that wasn’t all.
The OSTs, swelled by the drama’s momentum, were sweeping the charts and were even being credited with pulling up the drama’s ratings.
[“Does drama ‘Red Thread’ gain power from HS? Sets all-time weekend ratings No. 1…”]
[“HS power? ‘Red Thread’ OST—every track enters the charts!”]
[“‘Red Thread’ ends its episodes with ‘After the Flowers Fall,’ ratings climb…”]
Articles, ratings, and netizen reactions were proving it.
↳ Other OSTs feel like devices to amplify the scenes, but ‘Only After the Flowers Have Faded’ just feels like the ‘Red Thread’ drama itself. (Likes 2,493)
↳ If HS keeps being like this, he can only be my husband. (Likes 4,541)
↳ It’s too much… imagine how hard HS must have worked… (Likes 2,195)
Of course, Hyunseung remained indifferent to all those public reactions and outcomes.
For now, his head was full only of the “instrument” to be used for the next project.
“When will I get to try playing it?”
The song had been finished long ago. The lyrics, too.
He’d even named the track.
All that was left was for the instrument that would perform it to arrive, and it would be perfect.
“It’ll take a while.”
It had only been, what, two days since Kim Woohyun said he’d make contact, yet it felt like two years.
Tap, tap, tap.
His fingers itched with idleness; picturing Sarah Stewart’s voice in his head, he checked the sound again and continued with arrangement work.
Sarah Stewart.
The reason he chose her as the instrument for this track was one thing: the “sass” in her voice.
A voice that could spring any which way: free and imperious.
More than that, they were not strangers. At first, he hadn’t recognized her, but watching video and profile photos, a forgotten shard of memory flashed back.
Right. A day while traveling in Europe—at a café, a woman throwing a hysterical fit over sheet music.
If he remembered right, she’d said she was married, with a kid…
There was no such detail in her profile; maybe it was a secret?
Well, he’d just pretend not to know.
That aside.
It seemed she hadn’t released the revised sheet music as a track…
“Why?”
Did she not like it? No way…
“Tsk.”
There was a lot he wanted to ask Sarah once they met.
Of course, more than that, he was itching to try “playing” her.
“Not sure she’ll be controllable, though.”
A curious smile curled at Hyunseung’s lips.
Sarah Stewart was nervously gnawing at her fingernails, unable to hide her agitation.
“How odd.”
It had been several days since she’d swallowed her pride and uploaded that ridiculous “Daddy Challenge” video.
The views and comments were exploding; the clip was being carried to communities in multiple countries.
Her company told her to take it down immediately for image-management reasons, but she flatly refused.
Because there’d been no feedback at all from the song’s composer or singer.
Cumbersome or not, she even ran Korean articles about the song through machine translation to check them all.
But the only thing that kept getting repeated was that she had uploaded a challenge video…
There were no articles about the original creator at all.
“Really strange.”
Normally, if someone at her level joined a challenge, you’d expect at least a mention once.
But even though days had passed since she’d uploaded it, the Korean composer was maintaining complete radio silence.
Oh, why not just contact them through the company?
“I can’t do that.”
In Sarah Stewart’s case, she was known as a singer-songwriter. In truth, she had a strong pride in her own songs.
She’d sometimes accept company input for arrangement or edits, but she was famous for rejecting songs by other composers outright.
And yet—
She singled out some Korean composer and asked to contact him directly?
For Sarah Stewart’s pride, that was out of the question.
So why was she chasing like this?
Because she had a full-body hunch.
The musical pattern of that East Asian man who had looked at her sheet music and said something was off, and the pattern of the composer who made “Villain Daddy,” felt uncannily similar.
Could it be that they were the same person? She remembered that East Asian guy had said he was a composer, too.
Right.
Just in case, she’d wait a little longer.
Tap, tap, tap.
Sarah jiggled her leg, then went so far as to check the company email herself to see if anything had come in.
Right. You never know. Maybe contact had come through the company…
Click, click.
Using the password she’d wheedled out of Andrew, Sarah logged into the official internal email and started scanning messages one by one.
Then an email with a “urgent” icon caught her eye.
[ LS Entertainment ]
Most official emails were… well, official, and she wasn’t supposed to read them at will, but for some reason she really wanted to read this one.
In the end, Sarah clicked the subject line.
I am sending you an official letter of cooperation, so please check it quickly and reply.
The contents were simple. It only said they were sending an official cooperation letter and asked for a prompt check and reply.
Seriously…
Suppressing her disappointment, Sarah was about to hit the back button when—
Ring, ring!
Her phone, tossed somewhere, started ringing.
“Ugh, annoying…”
As she rummaged through the studio hunting for her phone, the ringing kept going.
As if there were something urgent.
Ring, ring!
Oddly, Sarah’s hands grew more frantic. Where had she thrown it? Where did it fly off to?
At last she found the phone. On the screen was a welcome name.
[Austin]
It had to mean something good was happening to her.
Leave a Reply