“Mr. Park Chanwook,” my mother welcomed. “Please come in.”

A middle aged man with glasses and graying hair entered, and I could immediately identify the air of authority around him. I supposed that was because of his many years as a producer and director. He had practice, experience, knowledge, and power.

“Ms. Shinhye, Mr. Daewon!” he acknowledged my parents jovially. “Great place you got here,” he complimented, looking around at my home.

“Oh, uh, actually, it’s Baekhyun’s,” my father revealed. “We just kind of work here.” He pointed at himself and my mother at the word ‘we’. My mother laughed as it was a common mistake for people to think the house was my parents’.

Mr. Chanwook didn’t seem to think it was odd though. “All right,” he accepted. He stuck out his hand for me to shake. “Byun Baekhyun,” he greeted.

I shook his hand firmly. “Hello, Mr. Chanwook.”

“My daughters are big fans of yours,” he told me. My mother let out an “Aww.”

“Oh, great,” I said, relieved to know he knew my work. He finally let go of my hand and walked pass us to go toward the high ceilinged living room that was open to everyone as soon as they entered the front doors.

“Wow! This is great,” he exclaimed as he examined my house. He caught sight of three large, black and white photos of me performing. “I love this. I love this,” he said, pointing at them. In a terrible British accent, he said, “Rock and roll!” He even lifted his hands in the typical rock and roll pose, and laughed at his own silliness.

My parents and I settled down on the couch, opposite of Mr. Chanwook and the giant pictures.

“Awesome,” he said. He turned around to face us but his eyes were caught on something on the mantle of the fireplace. He picked it up. “Oh, got this album at the house. Girls love this.”

I was glad to see he was talking about my latest album. He put the album back in its place and faced us, remaining standing. “All right, now let’s get right to the point. Let’s get right to it.”