Everyday Life (7)
Kim Beom-seok.
He was a famous singer who had released a string of exquisite songs, including Magic Castle, Confession, Breakup Letter, and That Girl Back Then.
His trademark was a deep, resonant voice that sounded as if he were speaking without any particular flourish, calm and restrained, yet strangely impossible to ignore.
By his own account, that was because he had never formally studied music or vocal technique, though for someone who claimed that, he could move freely from the lowest notes to the highest without breaking a sweat.
He was also gifted at writing lyrics and composing, and in addition to the songs he sang himself, he had written a number of other gems and handed them off to different singers.
In particular, his sense for composition was second to none.
He rarely appeared on TV or variety shows, so his mainstream recognition was somewhat lower than it might have been, but there was probably no one who had never heard a song he had made.
Magic Castle, for instance, had even been used as a commercial jingle for Yuseong Electronics.
Maybe because of the lyrics and the voice, he had far more male fans than female ones.
In the case of Confession, in fact, so many men had sung it in front of women that it had somehow landed in the top three of “Songs female friends absolutely don’t want male friends to sing at karaoke”.
Once, he had been invited to perform on a military comfort train, and the soldiers, who supposedly never even looked up when a male singer came on, ended up belting out the chorus in a scene of surprising, almost absurd unity.
And yet, hidden behind all that was an astonishing twist: his real job was in finance.
It wasn’t all that strange for a singer to be good at acting or variety. Those fell under the same broad umbrella, after all.
But a fund manager was a different matter entirely.
Students usually found out about that during corporate presentation season.
A man who looked vaguely familiar would come to the university and give a polished talk about Namboo Securities, and just as the audience’s attention started to drift, he would sing a few familiar songs.
At first, the students would think, Why is that fund manager so good at imitating a singer? Only later would they realize he was the actual singer, and then the whole room would erupt in cheers.
So how had he performed as a financier?
Normally, when a person does two things at once, one side inevitably suffers, but Kim Beom-seok had achieved tremendous results in his main career as well.
In the first timeline, he rose all the way to head of the investment strategy division at Namboo Securities and launched The Musician Fund, which he personally managed.
Through meticulous company analysis, he bought undervalued firms and aggressively loaded up on stocks in entertainment companies he knew well, and the result had been a huge success.
Looking at him, one could only conclude that there were people in this world who managed to show talent in fields that seemed to have nothing to do with one another.
Of course, I was nothing like that, so I decided to just keep doing what I was already doing and invest well.
Kim Beom-seok asked me, “Is it really all right if I keep pursuing my singing career alongside this?”
“Of course.”
“Still, it might interfere with work.”
“The company will support you as much as possible.”
In the first timeline, Kim Beom-seok had found some success as a singer, gotten signed to an agency, and only joined Namboo Securities about three years later.
But this time, because of me, he had joined Continue Capital before that ever happened.
Continue Capital was doing extremely well now, and he was probably finding the work genuinely interesting too.
Maybe that was why he couldn’t easily make up his mind either way.
Unlike me, who was openly rooting for him, Senior Dong-ho was negative about the whole thing.
“Don’t go getting distracted by something else. Just work hard at the company instead. According to Ricardo’s theory of comparative advantage, you know—”
“Please, stop bringing up stuff everyone already knows.”
Why was he dragging out a theory that sounded like it belonged in a middle school textbook? Of course, they taught it in more detail at university.
The gist was that no single person—or company, or country—could do everything, so the smart move was to focus on what you did best.
In Kim Beom-seok’s case, even if he was good at both investing and music, investing was the more efficient use of his abilities, so he should focus there.
That wasn’t wrong.
It was just that Continue Capital was doing so well.
At the moment, even the money Kim Beom-seok took home was structured so that his salary was under a hundred million won, but his performance bonus was more than ten times that.
And in the future, he would be making far more than that.
If all he cared about was money, there was no need for him to keep singing at all.
But still...
“A person ought to live doing the things they want to do.”
I thought of Jin Se-yeon and Jiyu.
Both of them had seen their futures change for the better because of me.
Then what about Kim Beom-seok?
Could I end up ruining his dream of becoming a singer?
Something like that shouldn’t be allowed to happen.
“I do like music, but I’m not sure I can really do it well...”
I said firmly, “Style is temporary, but class is permanent.”
Senior Dong-ho nodded. “Right, right. Listen to Miru. He said style is temporary.”
“...”
Wasn’t the part that came after supposed to matter a little more?
Judging by Kim Beom-seok’s face, he looked like he was seriously considering cutting ties with me on the spot. If it had been me, I would’ve already ditched him.
I kept trying to encourage him.
“Don’t pay any attention to the words of some music idiot who only listens to girl group songs.”
“Music idiot? Hey, do you people even know the charm of girl groups?”
Only if he had just big dreams, I would have tried to stop him.
But he had genuine skill and brilliant talent. It would have been wrong for that to go unrealized because of me.
More than anything, I wanted to hear him sing.
In the end, after much hesitation, Kim Beom-seok made his decision.
“If you’re saying that much, then I’ll give it a try. If nothing else, I’m stubborn enough now to make sure I succeed.”
I didn’t need to say who that someone was.
Then, all at once, Senior Dong-ho changed his attitude completely.
“Hah. If that’s your resolve, then I can’t stop you anymore. Congratulations on passing the test.”
“What nonsense is that?”
“I objected only to give you momentum.”
“You nearly stripped me of all momentum yourself.”
Senior Dong-ho immediately changed the subject. “Oh! But if you become a singer, could you maybe meet girl groups?”
I stared at him, incredulous. “What exactly would you do if I did?”
“Well, I haven’t thought that far yet. Ah! What about going to karaoke together? I can tell you exactly who sang which part with my eyes closed.”
“...”
Karaoke, my ass.
His face already looked like his heart had gone off to karaoke with his favorite girl group before mine ever did.
Anyway, since he had decided to try singing, the next important question was which agency to choose.
These days, agencies had systematic training and support structures.
But that only applied to the large firms people had actually heard of, or at least the medium-sized ones. There were still plenty of agencies running on a completely haphazard basis.
We all looked through the companies that had contacted him.
Senior Dong-ho was startled. “Wait, what? SOT and DY contacted you too? Those are top-tier agencies. You were that good?”
“Yeah, you jerk.”
Kim Beom-seok already had a large catalog of songs finished, and he was strong not just as a singer but also as a lyricist, composer, and arranger.
Launching a single idol group usually cost tens of billions of won, whereas he was already usable as a finished product.
So of course people wanted to get him.
Among them, one company stood out.
“Mabel Entertainment?”
“Oh! That’s the agency for the Lunatins.”
“You know them?”
“Of course. Their first album concept was too vague, so they didn’t really take off, but the songs were good.”
With dozens of idol groups debuting every month, it was hard enough just to keep track of them all.
But I knew Lunatins well, even though I wasn’t particularly interested in girl groups.
That was because, within a few years, they would rise onto the Billboard charts and grow into a global girl group performing across the United States and Europe.
It was no exaggeration to say they had announced the standing of K-pop to the world.
Still, their start had not been smooth. Early on, they had supposedly gone through all sorts of hardships.
The company itself also went through several major crises and, around this point, seems to have taken investment from Chinese capital.
Later, when it went public, it made an enormous killing.
It felt like perfect timing.
“What do you think about just acquiring this company outright?”
Senior Dong-ho looked at me in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You want to acquire an entertainment company just so this kid can become a singer?”
Kim Beom-seok was just as flustered.
“N-no, it’s not like we need to go that far...”
“What do you mean? If one of our employees is going to sing, then the company has to back him all the way. Don’t worry about it at all.”
“...”
He looked like he might die from the pressure.
“It’s not only because of that. Don’t we need to invest in the Korean branch separately anyway? How long are we supposed to keep relying only on support from headquarters?”
“Hmm, so you’re saying we should acquire a company and grow it?”
“Exactly.”
Most private equity funds bought undervalued companies and buildings, grew them into healthy businesses, and then sold them at a higher price.
Korea, too, had now become a place where private equity was mainstream.
From Redia Coffee to Heungbu’s Budae Jjigae and King Burger, even the franchise brands people recognized at a glance, and the skyscrapers standing in the middle of downtown, were often privately owned by PE funds once you looked beneath the surface.
The more aggressive ones even invested in startups.
It was truly the age of private equity.
“Look through the numbers and draw up an investment plan.”
“Me?”
“Then who’s going to do it? Think of it as your company and work hard.”
“Hmm. So you want me to take ownership?”
“Exactly.”
I wasn’t just saying that. I really did intend to hand the Korean branch over to Senior Dong-ho someday.
He had saved my life, so how could I not do at least this much for him?
Besides, the Korean branch was tiny compared to Continue Capital as a whole, so parting with it wouldn’t make much difference anyway.
How much he could take with him would depend on his own ability.
Mabel Entertainment.
It was the company Hong Seo-jin had founded after leaving SOT Entertainment, one of the three major agencies.
With the idea of creating a girl group that would appeal not only across Asia but around the world, he formed Lunatins, a multinational four-member girl group.
When they debuted, he thought, My girls are definitely going to blow up.
They didn’t.
Their first album posted unexpectedly poor results.
Groups that failed to take off at debut were not usually likely to succeed later. But he believed in Lunatins’ potential.
It was just that the timing wasn’t right yet.
My girls will definitely make it!
The problem was whether he could last until then.
He had already taken out a loan against his house and thrown in every bit of money he could scrape together from acquaintances. He had a sinking feeling that one wrong move and everything could collapse right there.
Fortunately, an investment offer had come in.
But it bothered him that the investor was a Chinese firm. And knowing how desperate the company was, they had proposed terms that were practically a robbery.
Should I accept these terms anyway?
Just as his worries deepened, the office manager said, “You have a visitor.”
“Who is it?”
“A Mr. Kim Beom-seok.”
“...Huh?”
He was a singer who had recently become famous on A-Tube.
When Hong Seo-jin looked him up, he found that the man had more hit songs than he could count. It was hard to understand why he had never taken off until now.
Since he was already so famous, and since he could debut right away without spending more money on production, there was no way he was the only agency pursuing him.
So Hong Seo-jin had sent an email and honestly not expected much.
And yet here he was, showing up in person at the company!
Hong Seo-jin met Kim Beom-seok at once.
“Hello, I’m Kim Beom-seok. I’m sorry for dropping by so suddenly.”
“Not at all. Thank you for coming.”
He was a neat, properly dressed young man.
Just from his appearance, he looked more like an office worker than a singer.
“This is my friend.”
“Hello, I’m Lee Dong-ho.”
He hadn’t come alone; he had brought a friend with him. The friend kept looking around the agency with obvious curiosity.
“Is Lunatins in there by any chance?”
“They’re probably at the dorm right now.”
“Ah, I see.”
He looked genuinely disappointed.
“Come on, let’s sit down and talk. Hae-woong, could you bring some tea?”
The three of them sat down in the meeting room.
Hong Seo-jin started with the question he was most curious about.
“I enjoyed your songs. Are you still active in music these days?”
Kim Beom-seok replied, “I’m working at a company right now.”
“Ah! I see. If I may ask, what kind of work are you doing?”
“I work here.”
Kim Beom-seok handed over his business card politely.
Hong Seo-jin looked down at it in detail.
“Continue Capital... Wait, this isn’t that Continue Capital, is it?”
“That Continue Capital?”
“The place that dismantled the Hanjung Group not long ago.”
“That’s the one.”
“...What?”
Hong Seo-jin’s mouth fell open.
No, what kind of ballad singer works at a private equity fund?