Chapter 1 : Enchanting Beat

Chapter 1: Enchanting Beat

I feel the same, haha.

Where would that happen? Wake up from that dream.

Of course being famous is better; after money comes power.

Doesn’t that differ from person to person?

Because I don’t need to earn a lot of money, I just wish everyone knew who I was.

↳↳ Go dance naked in Gwanghwamun. Then it’ll happen for sure, yes yes.

↳↳↳ That’s a crime, isn’t it? Haha.

↳↳↳↳ You get famous. Anyway, that’s how it is.

Is there such a job?

These days, there kind of is, right? A big hit as a webtoon or web novel author, or striking it rich with crypto.

Is there anyone who isn’t like that?

Everyone’s heart is the same.

I feel the same way.

Moreover, I had one more condition.

I wanted to make money doing what I loved.

Is that a bit picky?

So what. Dreams have always been big and detailed, they said.

Even if it couldn’t be spoken aloud, knowing that everyone harbored a shy desire in their heart brought a strange kind of comfort.

“Heading to work again today!”

Others said that just hearing the word “going to work” made their bodies shake and cold sweat break out.

Every evening, I waited only for this time.

Earning money joyfully while no one knew my identity.

Today, too, I headed out to do the “night job.”

Ah, and what that is is……

Once the turntable started spinning, silence transformed into frenzy.

In a small room hidden in the shadows.

From the DJ booth, Seo Taeyoon’s solo stage unfolded.

The beat flowing from his fingertips mesmerized the audience.

“The beat is crazy……”

“It’s new every time I come.”

“Don’t post on SNS. If more people find out, you won’t be able to come.”

“Word‑of‑mouth is already insane?”

Lights streaming over the console turned even dark silhouettes into something mysterious.

DJ Blackhole.

Seo Taeyoon truly drew gazes like a black hole.

Overwhelming mixing and stretching.

Thanks to the fresh beats Taeyoon created himself, the out‑of‑the‑way club was always packed.

“Blackhole……!”

“Woah!”

Yet the main act, Taeyoon himself, paid no mind and silently operated the turntable.

Even in the midst of madness, he stayed calm.

As if he were alone with the music.

“A lot of scouts must’ve approached him. Why is he still here? If he goes to Gangnam, he’d hit the top right away. His tracks aren’t cliché. With that level of arrangement he’s a pro.”

At the guest’s words, the club manager only nodded.

A man who introduced himself as a casting director from a major agency muttered, almost under his breath:

“Wearing a mask as the concept is crazy. He makes people curious. His eyes are alive … maybe he’s a mask scammer?”

“Mask scammer?”

“A guy who looks handsome with the mask, but bland once he removes it?”

“Heh heh. Imagine whatever you like.”

“The name suits him well. Blackhole …”

The club manager gave a faint smile.

‘If he takes off the mask the chaos will be real.’

Despite the trivial conversation, the midnight heat continued.

Eyes drawn to Taeyoon grew more intense.

Eventually the sun was just setting.

Just as the club's mood was reaching its peak.

“A tax investigation and raid is underway!”

With a sharp yell, investigators began searching throughout the club.

“Turn off the music and turn on the lights, please.”

An abrupt tax raid unfolded.

Taeyoon removed his headphones and stopped the music.

Instead of brilliant beats, noisy voices filled the club.

“Let me repeat ………”

Taeyoon just stared at the stage from behind the mixing console, speechless.

Then one investigator approached the DJ booth.

“We ask for your cooperation.”

But then.

“If it’s a raid … does that mean the performance can’t go on today? Today was really important.”

Taeyoon asked the unexpected question.

What is he?

The investigator's gaze landed on Taeyoon.

While he had worn a mask, it wasn’t noticeable—but without it, he looked decent and neat.

People working in a place like this usually gave off a rough vibe.

But he seemed … different?

Thinking that he just had a clean face and nerve to speak so bluntly, the investigator replied:

“I’ll check out the booth. It won’t take long, so please stay inside.”

“Yes. Sorry ……”

“If you’re going to examine the equipment, please be careful. I got it second‑hand after serious effort.”

Taeyoon scratched the back of his head.

His shoulders slumped.

It was a stage he’d prepared for a full month.

A special performance revealed only on full‑moon nights.

Moreover, it was the first stage of “Lunatic Beat,” which he planned and created himself.

“Ah, I really prepared it properly today……”

Taeyoon fiddled with the turntable, disappointment heavy on him, and took a deep breath to steady his mind.

Of all nights. The audience’s disappointed faces were vivid in his mind.

They probably paid a lot to get in—he felt bad for them.

The thing seen only on the news was playing out before his eyes.

It was strange. A tax raid in a fringe club?

Isn’t that something only big companies go through?

A sudden chill started at his toes and crept up his spine to his head.

“Could it be … nah, no way.”

The worst‑case scenario played out in his imagination.

He’d been at it a year. Fans were growing and he was riding a favorable wind.

“Think good thoughts, good thoughts.”

There was nothing he could do.

He shook his head with effort, gazing into the confused stage.

“Ah, what ……”

A woman gasped in despair as she saw the notice posted in front of the club.

Somehow it was oddly quiet in front of the main entrance at this time.

She’d taken the trouble to come, only to find the club was suspended?

Thanks to DJ Blackhole, they must have pulled in money like they’d scraped it with a hook—but why?

Are they moving or renovating or what?

Her manager, who finally parked the car and joined her, asked.

“Why is it so quiet? Not open?”

The woman pointed wordlessly toward the door.

Once or twice a month.

Watching a DJ performance here and having a shot of tequila was her only joy in life.

“Why is this happening all of a sudden.”

“Wait a moment.”

Her manager’s finger rapidly swiped over a smartphone.

Then after searching for a while, found the news.

“…Looks like they’re closing for good?”

“Then what happened to the DJ? Is he working somewhere else? No news? Where did he go? Must be upsetting, right?”

The manager shrugged his shoulders.

I’m her manager, not the DJ’s—how would I know if she asked me?

“Ah… I’m going crazy.”

Han Yujin buried her face in both hands.

Her manager gave her a peculiar look.

“Yujin. That’s enough. You weren’t like this. Why are you so obsessed with the club?”

“It’s just… it’s comfortable and I like it. That’s all.”

“You think it’s comfortable even though you cover your whole face? You, who hates noise, say you like it? Seriously. If you’re that desperate, try Hongdae or something.”

“Should I go around advertising that Han Yujin’s become a washed-up idol who now hangs out at clubs?”

“What is this place then? A library?”

“This is the only place. Nobody pays attention to me here because they’re all focused on the DJ. And…”

“And?”

“There’s no DJ Blackhole anywhere else.”

Her manager looked at her with pity.

She was only twenty-five.

Even if the industry was unpredictable, being labeled as washed-up after eight years since debut was harsh.

Han Yujin had been a fairly successful idol.

After her group disbanded, she went solo—but one misstep was all it took.

Getting the wrong song was the root cause.

The higher she rose, the faster she fell.

Now, she was just going from one local event to another.

“Let’s go. Maybe some news will show up on SNS. For dinner… how about some tteok-twigim-sundae for the first time in a while?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

All her manager could offer was high-calorie food and a blind eye.

Just as she was about to leave with a bitter heart.

“Huh…?”

A man with an unusual air about him appeared.

She was certain—he wasn’t a guest.

The man pulled his cap low and looked at her.

The man’s identity was none other than Seo Taeyoon.

Han Yujin immediately spilled all her curiosity onto him.

“What about DJ Blackhole? Where did he go? Is he not performing anymore?”

“I don’t really know.”

“How can you not know if you’re a staff member?”

“I’m not staff, I’m a part-timer.”

“Ah…?”

“Then…”

“Wait, excuse me, just a second.”

Whether staff or part-timer.

All that mattered was finding out something about DJ Blackhole.

Even a clue about where she could hear his music again—be it SNS or whatever—would be enough.

“Yes?”

When Seo Taeyoon tilted his chin and replied, Han Yujin looked surprised.

His refined facial features under the cap sharply contrasted with his curt tone.

“Who… are you? Do we know each other?”

A totally random question slipped out.

Her manager gently tugged at her arm, throwing her a ‘What are you doing?’ look.

“Ah, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. Do you happen to have DJ Blackhole’s contact info?”

“Contact… what?”

“I couldn’t think of a better way to address him… anyway, I’m a fan. I’ve been coming here for a year to hear him DJ.”

“Ah, I see. But then why…”

She stared at Taeyoon’s face.

She hadn’t expected kindness, but this level of indifference?

Fine, pretending not to know was better.

As long as she reached her goal.

“Any way to contact DJ Blackhole. SNS, phone number, home address—anything is fine. No, sorry. Asking for personal info is rude… Oppa, give me a business card.”

When she said “business card,” Taeyoon’s face said, “I knew it.”

Business cards?

This-agency-that-entertainment—he had a truckload of those.

“No, never mind that either. Wait a second.”

Instead of a business card, what Han Yujin pulled out was a small notebook and a pen.

She started scribbling something down.

“Here.”

Taeyoon took the note half-heartedly.

What’s taking so long to write a contact… that kind of thought floated by.

He looked between the note and Han Yujin.

It was surprising enough that a famous celebrity gave her personal contact info—but that wasn’t all.

Next to the number, there was a shyly drawn little bunny.

A bunny wearing a headset and DJing, drawn adorably.

No matter how you looked at it… it was DJ Blackhole himself.

“Please make sure to pass it on. Even if you can’t find DJ Blackhole, please deliver a message.”

She gave him a pleading look before walking away with her manager.

“She draws well. Who knew she had this kind of talent… is this really my life?”

It was his first time seeing himself from the DJ booth.

So he’d been enjoying the world with such vivid eyes.

Taeyoon slowly traced his finger over the bunny drawing.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the depiction of himself on the paper.

After squatting down and gazing at the bunny for a long time, Taeyoon carefully folded the paper and slipped it into his wallet.

I unlocked the old back door.

With a creak, it opened.

“Even the sound of the door has romance.”

The smell of cigarettes hit me first.

That faint sweat that wouldn’t go away no matter how much air freshener you sprayed, and the subtle hint of alcohol… it was all familiar. Oddly comforting.

I passed through the space that felt warm because it was familiar and stepped into the DJ booth.

On the day of the raid, I only managed to grab my headphones and the expensive gear.

But I had left behind things just as important.

LPs, CDs, music magazines, a stack of business cards that could fill a binder…

Who would’ve cared about those?

I started gathering these treasures into a box.

Maybe it was just an excuse. An excuse to come back here one more time.

I looked out through the glass window at the empty dance floor.

Silhouettes of the crowd going wild to my beats flickered in my mind.

The humming cheers ringing in my ears, the way their reactions shifted with each mood of the track.

My empty gaze faintly reflected on the booth glass.

“It was comfortable, yeah… really.”

Behind the mask, I hid my true self.

There was no pathetic college dropout avoiding life.

No amateur messing around with DAW in his room.

No loser barely breathing through music.

There was only a club DJ, pouring out mesmerizing beats every night.

That’s why I had clung to this club.

Here, I was the star.

I could make music however I wanted, without caring about anyone else’s opinions.

It was the only place where I could face my real self — behind the mask.

I remembered the day of the interview, and meeting the owner.

– I’m not expecting much. Just show me real music. I can’t stand those kids who DJ with some beat scraped off YouTube.

– I’m confident in DJing. If I were just going to pretend, I wouldn’t even start.

– Good, you’re in. Gotta have a DJ to be cool, right? Scratch some vinyl while you’re at it. The mask… kinda a waste to hide that decent face. No, actually it’s great. That boldness to compete with music, not looks! I like your guts. Manager Kim, contract.

For a club on the outskirts, the pay was generous, and they gave incentives fairly.

The owner wasn’t exactly normal — you could tell from that flashy watch of his.

– Here’s your signing bonus. Buy some clothes, get a haircut. If you need equipment, let me know. I don’t ask for much. Just work long. For a long time.

They were good people.

Rain or snow, they held the DJ booth every single night.

Just like I kept my promise, the owner kept his.

There was no pressure to show my face.

No nagging to follow the trends.

“I wanted to at least say goodbye. Sucks that the owner changed so suddenly.”

It had been a good place. With good people.

Well, except for one thing.

That obsessive fan who’d camp out in front of the club, dying to know who I was.

– Just take off your mask once!

– I’ll give you a million won if you show your face!

– Can’t reveal your face? You must be ugly, huh?

– Bet he looks like an orc.

Sometimes fans disguised as audience members would play stupid pranks, but honestly, it didn’t matter.

If anything, they helped pack the club more.

“Did I get everything…?”

I hugged the full box close and glanced around the club one last time.

“Huh?”

Ding—

A text popped up.

I smiled and typed out a reply.