K-Producer

Year 2008. Daewon Foreign Language High School. 

Jeon Byul-ho strode towards the entrance, his 6-foot frame cutting an impressive figure even in the school's navy blue blazer and crisp white shirt.

The uniform couldn't quite hide the edge of a designer t-shirt peeking out at the collar, or the unmistakable red soles of his loafers as they clicked against the pavement.

As he entered the hallway, the usual buzz of chatter faltered. Eyes turned, not with the admiration he once knew, but with something colder.

Byul-ho's steps slowed, his expressive dark eyes scanning the faces around him. Where once he'd seen smiles and eager greetings, he now found averted gazes and whispers behind hands.

A group of girls huddled near their lockers, their voices carrying just loud enough for him to hear.

"Look at him, still strutting around in those fancy shoes," one sneered. "As if we don't all know his family's company went under."

"What a clown," another added, her laughter sharp. "Acting cool when he's probably shopping at thrift stores now."

Byul-ho's jaw tightened, his high cheekbones more pronounced as he clenched his teeth. He forced himself to keep walking, even as a cluster of boys near the classroom door made no effort to lower their voices.

"Hey, Jeon!" one called out, his tone mocking. "Nice watch. Selling it to pay rent?"

Another boy elbowed his friend, chuckling. "Don't you know? Once you go bankrupt, you lose the right to act cool. Isn't that right, Byul-ho?"

A third voice chimed in, dripping with false sympathy. "Such a shame about his parents. Imagine surviving that plane crash only to see your son become... this."

Byul-ho's steps faltered for just a moment, his fists clenching at his sides.

The male students noticed, their laughter growing louder. "What's the matter, Jeon? Going to do something?" one taunted, stepping closer. "Come on, show us what the fallen prince can do."

Byul-ho's knuckles turned white, but he unclenched his fists and pushed past them into the classroom without a word. He slid into his seat, the harsh whispers following him like a shadow.

Minutes later, the teacher entered, her eyes finding Byul-ho. "Jeon Byul-ho, I'm so sorry for your loss," she said softly, her voice tinged with genuine sympathy. A few students shifted uncomfortably, but most remained unmoved as the lesson began.

Throughout the day, Byul-ho endured a barrage of snide comments and not-so-accidental shoves in the hallway. Each class felt like an eternity, with snickers and pointed stares punctuating every moment of silence.

As the final bell rang, Byul-ho bolted from his seat, his usual grace abandoned in his haste to escape. He rushed through the corridors, burst out of the main doors, and made a beeline for the sleek black car waiting at the curb.

"Look at him run!" a voice called out.

"What's the rush, Jeon? Late for your shift at the convenience store?"

"Nah, he's probably off to sell another family heirloom!" another jeered.

Laughter rippled through the crowd as Byul-ho reached for the car door. His butler, an older man with a weathered face and kind eyes, stood beside the vehicle, his expression a mix of concern and barely contained anger at the students' cruelty.

"Young master," the butler murmured, opening the door.

Byul-ho slipped inside, the tinted windows finally shielding him from the mocking gazes and pointing fingers. As the car pulled away from the curb, he leaned his head against the cool glass, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath.

***

In the shower, Jeon Byul-ho's fist connected with the tiled wall, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his hand. He barely noticed, hot tears mingling with the water cascading down his face.

"Why?" he choked out, his voice raw with emotion. "Why did you have to leave me?"

Memories flooded his mind - his father's proud smile, his mother's gentle embrace. The hallways of Daewon Foreign Language High School, where students parted like the Red Sea as he walked by, admiration shining in their eyes. "Prince Byul-ho," they'd called him, a title he'd worn with easy confidence.

He remembered the last day of school before summer break, making grand promises to his friends. "We'll have so much to catch up on when we get back," he'd said, grinning. "You'll all be jealous of my vacation stories."

But then came the news that shattered his world. A plane crash. Both parents gone in an instant. And with them, the future he'd taken for granted.

Starlight Entertainment, his father's pride and joy, crumbled in the wake of the tragedy. Without its visionary leader, the company floundered. Stars jumped ship, seeking more stable management. Investors pulled out, spooked by the sudden change in leadership. Deals fell through, and debts mounted.

The board of directors, in a desperate bid to salvage what they could, sold off assets and terminated contracts. Within weeks, the empire his father had built was reduced to little more than a name and a mountain of paperwork.

And now, his classmates - the same ones who'd fawned over him just months ago - sneered and jeered. The prince had fallen, and they seemed all too eager to kick him while he was down.

Byul-ho slid down the shower wall, hugging his knees to his chest as the water continued to pour over him. The ache in his hand was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He'd lost his parents, his status, and now, it seemed, any semblance of respect or friendship.

Byul-ho's eyes grew heavy, his body slumping against the shower wall as sleep overtook him.

Outside, his butler, Kim Seon-woo, knocked frantically on the bathroom door. After several unanswered calls, Seon-woo made the decision to force the door open.

"Young master!" he cried out, finding Byul-ho unconscious in the shower, the water long since run cold. "Quickly, help me!" he shouted to the house staff, who rushed to assist.

As they lifted Byul-ho from the shower and carried him to his bed, his mind drifted into a strange, dreamlike state.

Suddenly, Byul-ho found himself inhabiting the body of another man - a talent scout in South Korea's entertainment industry in the year 2024. This version of himself was successful, respected, with a keen eye for spotting the next big thing in music.

Everything seemed perfect until a series of unfortunate events unfolded. A rising star he'd scouted was caught in a major scandal. Simultaneously, a rival agency poached several of his most promising trainees. His reputation took a nosedive, and whispers of incompetence began to circulate.

Desperate to salvage his career, he uncovered corruption within his own agency. But before he could expose it, he was framed for embezzlement. The next thing he knew, he was standing on the roof of a high-rise building, surrounded by people he thought he could trust, being told to jump or face ruin.

His last desperate thought echoed: "No, I still have a dream to create popular bands!"

Then, with a gasp, Byul-ho's eyes flew open. He found himself in his bed, tears streaming down his face. Looking at his hand, he wondered if it had all been just a vivid dream.

But as he sat there, memories not his own began to flood his mind - years of experience in the music industry, knowledge of future trends, understanding of the intricate workings of entertainment agencies. The memories were too detailed, too real to be mere fabrications of his subconscious.

Byul-ho's heart raced as he realized the truth. This wasn't just a dream. Somehow, impossibly, he had inherited the memories and experiences of future man from another world. 

Then, the door creaked open, and Kim Seon-woo entered the room. Seeing Byul-ho awake, he quickly sat by the bed and gently placed a hand on the young man's forehead.

"Young master, you've caught a cold from staying in the shower for so long," Seon-woo said, his voice laced with concern.

Byul-ho managed a weak chuckle. "I'll be fine, Seon-woo."

The butler shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "Your parents wouldn't want to see you like this, young master. I know losing them is unbearably hard, but you mustn't give up. You need to continue living, for them and for yourself."

Byul-ho nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. His mind was already racing with the newfound memories and knowledge. After a moment of silence, he turned to Seon-woo.

"Seon-woo, do we... do I have enough money to keep living in this house in Gangnam-gu?" he asked hesitantly.

The butler's expression softened. "Don't worry about that, young master. Your father left a substantial inheritance for you. It's been carefully invested and should support you comfortably for years to come."

Byul-ho's eyes widened slightly, his mind already formulating plans. The entertainment industry knowledge from his other life was bubbling up, presenting possibilities he'd never considered before. He thought about dropping out of school, using his inheritance to start building connections in the industry, maybe even forming his own agency.

But he kept these thoughts to himself, not wanting to alarm Seon-woo with talk of leaving school. Instead, he simply nodded and thanked the butler for the information.

As Seon-woo left the room, Byul-ho's mind was ablaze with ideas. He'd make a name for himself in the entertainment industry, bigger than he'd ever dreamed before. He'd prove everyone wrong - those who mocked him at school, those who thought the son of Starlight Entertainment's founder was finished.