Hansung's Little Monster (2): Harmony Sound
Harmony Sound. The company I was seeking out, specialists in crafting CM songs.
"Phew, this must be the place."
"Sure looks like it."
Lee PhD and I just stood there, staring up at the building in a daze, at a loss for words. It was on the verge of collapse, with nothing but a faded sign hanging on it—what you'd barely call a company.
I never could have imagined a CM song production company would be out in the sticks like this.
"Who are you?"
A rustle from inside, and the door creaked open. A man in his late twenties poked his head out. His messy hair had clearly just been swept back haphazardly by hand. His stretched-out T-shirt and sweatpants were so faded from countless washes.
And this guy was the famous CM song composer? His name was Nam Geonwoo. In my past life, he'd dominated the domestic ad world, churning out hit after hit. He was a legendary figure—anyone in the industry who didn't know him might as well be a spy.
In my memories, Nam Geonwoo was the monster who'd taken obscure products and turned them into national sensations with just a few seconds of melody, even flipping entire market landscapes. He'd rewritten the history of ad jingles.
Seeing that guy standing before me looking like a decade-old shut-in? No way it felt real.
"Heh heh~ Hello?"
"Yes. But who might you be?"
"Ah! I'm Han Seoyeon."
"...Han Seoyeon?"
Nam Geonwoo muttered the name to himself a few times, then his eyes went wide.
"Han Seoyeon—as in, the only daughter of the Hansung family from that Hansung Jjapaghetti explosion?"
"Yes, that's me."
Working in ads, he caught on quick. Cursed Hansung family. The reclusive chaebol's only daughter. The lucky kid who'd shattered records at age five with her ad debut. All those were labels stuck to me.
Nam Geonwoo's gaze sharpened in an instant. The hazy vibe from moments ago vanished, replaced by a piercing glint, like he was sizing me up.
"Come on in for now. I had a restless night—guess that's why a VIP showed up."
"Sure, thanks."
He flung the door wide and ushered us inside.
Unlike the rundown exterior, the inside was surprisingly tidy. Old recording gear lined one wall neatly. Faded sheet music and cassette tapes piled up everywhere like mountains.
This is where those blockbuster CM songs were born...
Nam Geonwoo, the future master of Korean CM songs. I slowly took in the room, holding my breath. A subtle, musty aura hung in the air—probably the layers of time stacked in this space.
"Nothing fancy, but coffee okay for you, sir?"
"That works for me."
"And for the little miss? Wait, Ms. Seoyeon?"
"Do you have cocoa?"
"Of course!"
Soon, the kettle hissed and bubbled. Nam Geonwoo clanked open the aluminum lid and dumped in coffee and cocoa powder.
"Not sure if it'll suit your taste..."
"Thank you."
"Heh heh, my pleasure."
We sat across from each other at a small table.
"If you're Han Seoyeon, the Hansung Group's only daughter—why come to a tiny sound studio like this? Nothing worth seeing here..."
"I came to make a commission. More precisely, to hire you, Composer Nam Geonwoo."
"Hire me?"
"Yes~"
Any ramen researcher knows CM songs for ramen. That's why I'd jumped in myself for Hansung Jjapaghetti and Haeguri, borrowing past-life knowledge. But I couldn't keep making them forever.
To shoot one ad, you need a solid concept capturing the product's features and message. Then studios, lights, cameras, actors, voice talent, editors. A massive crew and time sink at a glance.
And I can't keep relying on Grandpa forever.
Hansung Jjapaghetti and Haeguri got made with Hansung Group HQ's help. But I couldn't lean on HQ indefinitely. Better to own Harmony Sound outright.
Why? Because I had over 10 billion won at my disposal.
"What do you mean?"
"I want to acquire Harmony Sound. I glanced on the way here—you're struggling financially, right?"
"!"
If I left it like this, Daehan Yakult would swoop in aggressively. In my past life, they snagged Harmony Sound and monopolized it. Result? Paldong Bibimmyeon rode their ads to claim an unbelievable 80% of the bibimmyeon market—despite being a latecomer.
And that 1989 Paldong lunchbox CM song? Also Nam Geonwoo's work.
I absolutely can't let it slip away!
With ramen sales money, I'd build convenience stores across Korea. To leverage ads repeatedly, CM songs were non-negotiable.
Problem was, Nam Geonwoo looked like he didn't buy a word. Who'd believe a girl not even reaching a grown man's waist could just buy a sound studio? It wasn't candy from the corner store.
Nam Geonwoo stayed silent for a while. Steam rose from his cup, and his gaze sank, then slowly lifted again. Not wariness—calculation mixed with curiosity.
"Do you know how much it costs to buy my little sound company, Ms. Seoyeon?"
Of course I did. Just the old gear here must've cost a fortune. I wasn't an expert, but thousands at least?
"How about 100 million won?"
"Pardon? How much?"
"100 million won. Initial investment at 100 million, then bonuses per commission I give—sound good?"
"Initial investment? Bonuses? Payment?"
Hmm... Harmony Sound was on the brink—could close tomorrow and no one'd bat an eye. Commissions dried up long ago, rent and maintenance snowballing. This space was less a company, more an ember Nam Geonwoo nursed alone.
If Daehan Yakult hadn't scouted him, it might've folded ages ago.
Still, a CM master wouldn't starve anywhere.
"Hahaha..."
Nam Geonwoo muttered to himself, even with me right there. Utterly deflated.
"100 million... An amount I'd bust my ass a lifetime for and still never touch. Do all chaebol kids act like you?"
"Uh, well..."
He drummed the table blankly, then suddenly stopped. 100 million. Average salary back then: 300,000 won a month. A regular person, no eating, no spending—28 years to save it. And here a six-year-old tossed it out casually. Must've hit his post-nut clarity.
"Sorry, but I..."
Life is unpredictable—you can't see even an inch ahead. That's how Nam Geonwoo had always lived.
No matter how hot a composer, miss the wave once and you're done. Yesterday's hit didn't guarantee today's rice. That's the game.
So he'd figured: earn decent, fade decent, vanish decent. His finale.
He'd half-accepted it. Until a six-year-old showed up with 100 million—untouchable for most—and offered to buy Harmony Sound outright.
Doubt crept in. He'd worked multiples harder than others, yet the company tanked, his account filled with overdue notices.
Composers are poor. Sounds like a joke, but brutal truth here.
Honestly, he wanted that huge offer. But his last shred of pride wouldn't let him sell out. Looked pathetic.
All his efforts crumbling like a vain dream. Hollow.
Knock knock!
Not coincidence.
"Who is it?"
"Lee Jeonghun. Could you open the door?"
"Lee Jeonghun? Dr. Lee from Hansung Food?"
"Yes."
Just the other day—the guy with that bold kid offering to buy the company.
Nam Geonwoo opened up. Sure enough.
"Hahaha, hello? Sorry for dropping by unannounced."
"What brings you here?"
"Wanted to give you this. Hand it over and head back to Seoul."
Lee Jeonghun handed over a notebook.
"This is?"
"The ad concept from the little miss for you, Composer Nam Geonwoo."
"...!"
"Bit awkward to say, but..."
He paused, eyes down, then spoke carefully.
"The little miss isn't rich just 'cause she's chaebol-born. Wanted to clear that up."
"Huh?"
"The Hansung family is strict. Even kids get cut if they don't contribute. Chaebol doesn't mean guaranteed future."
"......"
"That 100 million she offered? Blood money she earned solo. Stays up till dawn brainstorming, obsessing how to sell one more unit. And she's just six."
Six. Age for playgrounds and candy tantrums. But Han Seoyeon chose planning over play, markets over fairy tales, ideas over sleep.
Suddenly, Nam Geonwoo couldn't lift his head. Ashamed. He'd judged by chaebol sheen.
"Anyway, came to fix that misunderstanding. Back to the lab in Seoul now—overtime again tonight. Hahaha!"
"Don't you feel wronged?"
"Wronged how?"
"I looked you up—you're famous nationwide..."
"Hahaha! In business, age and gender don't matter much. Folks like us focus on one thing."
Lee Jeonghun said confidently.
"Whether that person lets you chase your dream. Just worry about that."