Ludwig Shock Beethoven
There was a YouTube artist who used the bizarre name Ludwig Shock Beethoven.
He used a picture of Beethoven being electrocuted as his profile image.
His channel description read:
“This song was made by Beethoven. The copyright revenue doesn’t go to me—it goes to Beethoven.”
…It was a truly absurd concept.
True to its chaotic energy, Ludwig Shock Beethoven’s work was so eccentric it could only be described as the result of chugging a full bowl of madness.
For example:
He mashed up a dictator’s national anthem with trot music.
He re-orchestrated elementary school songs into symphonic arrangements.
He composed four-minute tracks using only sound effects from a popular online game.
Ludwig Shock Beethoven uploaded these impossibly strange pieces to his channel and quickly went viral.
If it were just funny music, he wouldn’t have gotten so famous.
The problem was that the music was incredible—so good it made you laugh in disbelief.
The Original Song Destroyer from Hell.
That was how people referred to Ludwig Shock Beethoven.
Speculations ran wild about the identity of this mysterious, wild YouTuber who suddenly appeared on the scene.
But no one ever figured it out.
The most common theory was that he was a thirty-something professional artist letting off steam.
<That’s right. You remember how that guy stood out in the third preliminary round because of his producing skills, don’t you?>
At Starlight’s question, I nodded.
“I thought his skills didn’t fall behind the pros… Don’t tell me he really was one.”
If what Starlight said was true, then Min Heejae was already an established artist with a discography.
Ludwig Shock Beethoven had released two full-length albums.
He’d also done compilation albums with famous EDM artists.
“What’s got you so deep in thought?”
Min Heejae suddenly asked.
“Oh… I was just lost in thought.”
I folded my arms.
“Anyway, Mr. Min Heejae, was there a reason you had to ditch Noeul just to bring me here alone?”
“Of course.”
Min Heejae smiled slightly as he turned on the computer.
“I don’t know how you practiced during the third round, Eunyul, but this time, I want to take full control of the planning.”
“May I ask why?”
“We have six members, but only half are actually useful.”
“…Can’t argue with that.”
He was right.
Back in the third round, the Gravity Team didn’t really have any weak links.
Madojin and Jeong Noeul just needed a push to shine. Hamin, from the same YN Entertainment as me, had solid fundamentals.
Kim Jungho’s skills were a bit off-putting, but he could be used in arrangement, so it was fine.
“Come to think of it… I guess I was too busy to notice Jungho-hyung didn’t make it to the finals.”
I scratched the back of my neck.
“Anyway, that was then…”
Now, the situation was different.
Three out of six members were in bad shape.
A strong leader who could override opinions when necessary was needed.
“Noeul is a good dancer, but I don’t think he has much talent for planning. He’ll just ruin the vibe with those silly smiles. That’s why I didn’t bring him.”
“That might hurt Noeul’s feelings if he heard it…”
“Which is exactly why I said it when he’s not here. Good of me, right?”
Min Heejae smiled, as if waiting for praise.
“…Not good at all. But fine, I get it. So why exactly do you need me?”
“Because you have talent.”
Min Heejae played me a few tracks.
They were all by John River Williams.
We listened in silence.
Hearing John River Williams’ masterpieces through the studio’s powerful speakers was uplifting.
“Does anything come to mind?”
“Definitely.”
I smiled.
“I see your strategy.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
Now that I knew Min Heejae was Ludwig Shock Beethoven, it wasn’t hard to guess his arrangement strategy.
“You’re planning to combine these songs with Afterlife, aren’t you?”
Min Heejae’s expression twitched slightly.
“…Did I get it right?”
He nodded.
“Afterlife is about reincarnation. But…”
Min Heejae moved the mouse and played one of the John River Williams songs we’d just heard.
“This one’s about despair—hoping there isn’t another life. Even songs by the same artist can have wildly different themes. One may affirm love, another deny it.”
“You want to combine songs that show contrasting perspectives.”
“Exactly. Just like I declared to J.H.A., I’m going to break Afterlife.”
I nodded.
His strategy was solid.
Recreating a world-famous masterpiece was hard.
So adopting a medley or mashup format was smart.
Considering Ludwig Shock Beethoven’s tendencies, a respectful medley seemed unlikely.
A tightly woven, destructive mashup was more likely.
“And I need your help with that, Eunyul. That’s why I asked to see you alone.”
Min Heejae looked at me with a sticky gaze.
“What kind of help?”
“Lyrics.”
“…Lyrics?”
He nodded.
“I heard you rewrote the lyrics for the Gravity Team’s competition song. Is that true?”
“Yes, but…”
“You’ve got a great sense for it. You basically overhauled all the lyrics, didn’t you? You have talent as a lyricist.”
“No, not really…”
“Shh.”
He placed a finger to his lips.
“If I say you have talent, you do. So don’t downplay it. I don’t want to force you—but you don’t want to be tied up and made to write lyrics, do you?”
Why does he say terrifying things with such a calm face…
“So, what exactly do you want me to do?”
“First, we’ll need Korean lyrics for John River Williams’ songs. You can handle that, right?”
“No, wait! Writing lyrics isn’t like clipping your nails—”
“It’ll be easy for you. Rewrite the songs I just played, and once I restructure them into one track, fit the lyrics accordingly. Fun, right?”
“…Sounds impossible.”
“Even better. The harder it is, the more fun it becomes.”
“That sounds exactly like something a music teacher would say… Well, anyway—”
I brushed back my hair.
Now was my chance to attack.
“I think I get it, Mr. Heejae.”
“Get what?”
“You’re a professional artist.”
His expression twitched.
But he quickly smiled and shook his head.
“No way. I’m just a fresh-faced trainee.”
“Ludwig Shock Beethoven.”
The air turned cold as soon as I said the YouTube alias.
“You’re Min Heejae, right? I thought something was fishy ever since I heard your round three track. Your style is just like Ludwig Shock Beethoven’s.”
“It’s not me.”
He replied flatly.
“Yes, it is.”
I already know through Starlight!
“Nope. Got any proof?”
“Then let’s open YouTube on your phone right now. Let’s see what account you’re logged into.”
He glanced at the phone on the table.
“Tch.”
He clicked his tongue.
“You got me.”
Heejae smiled in relief.
“I didn’t expect your musical intuition to be that sharp, Eunyul. I was too focused on your vocal and lyricist potential.”
“Why hide your identity?”
“Because it’s embarrassing. My Ludwig Shock Beethoven work is just a hobby. It’s like a game to understand pop music. To become an idol…”
How does that insane YouTube stuff help him become an idol?
I wondered, but there was a more pressing question to ask now that the conversation was in my control.
“…Why did you enter CYB, Heejae?”
“The real reason? To become a famous idol, of course.”
“That’s my goal too. Everyone in this building probably has the same goal. But none of them sneak into people’s rooms and leave letters. And…”
I recalled what Noeul had said over breakfast.
“…that woman ghost hovering near you—what is she?”
“Heh…”
Min Heejae let out an unsettling laugh.
“That letter was a misunderstanding. I gave it to a staff member, pretending to be a fan. I just thought, if I made it seem like I snuck into your room, you’d remember me more vividly.”
“…Why would you do that?”
“Because I wanted to get closer to you.”
…He’s insane.
“You’re someone I need to become an idol. I’m confident in my producing, but my vocals and dance are average. To make it into the rankings, I need strong allies…”
“…And you want me to be one of them?”
He nodded.
“That’s why I’ve been trying to get close to you.”
“…When?”
“Always.”
“…You kept saying I smelled weird.”
“Exactly. It was a brilliant tactic to break the ice.”
“That tactic failed. Don’t ever try that on anyone else unless you want to die alone.”
“Guess it didn’t work, huh.”
“It was awful.”
“Then I won’t say it anymore.”
He shrugged.
“And about the woman ghost around me…”
His expression darkened.
“Can you see her too?”
“No. I can’t.”
If I used an artifact like the Burning Devil’s Eye, maybe…
“I see. Then you must’ve learned about her through Noeul. That a ghost follows me…”
I nodded.
“She was my childhood friend. She died of an illness in elementary school.”
“…What?”
“If Noeul’s right, she looks like an adult woman now. That’s a relief. Ghosts can grow, it seems.”
So the ghost of a childhood friend had been staying by his side.
“…And now she’s my Constellation.”
“A Constellation…?”
What nonsense is that?
Wait… hang on…
Min Heejae’s Constellation was The Ten Kings of the Underworld.
But the rank was only F-class.
<Hmm. So that’s what it was.>
As I was lost in thought, Starlight spoke.
“You figured something out?”
<The Ten Kings of the Underworld are Constellations that govern life and death. With their power, they could temporarily elevate a mere human soul to the rank of Constellation.>
“You can make an ordinary human a Constellation? Isn’t that incredible?”
<Incorrect. It is a meaningless ability.>
“Meaningless?”
<The soul of a mere human is powerless. You couldn’t even see her. She’s technically a Constellation, but only F-class. It’s merely borrowed power under the Ten Kings’ name. She can’t grant any abilities to her contractor. In the end, she’s just a ghost. Staying by the living only drains their life.>
“…You’re right.”
Min Heejae’s status screen had been filled with numerous afflictions.
It was surely the ghost’s influence.
“Then why…”
Why go to such lengths to keep her as a Constellation?
“You seem curious. Why I made a dead person my Constellation…”
“Yes. The stronger the Constellation, the better the outcome…”
“If I didn’t make her my Constellation, none of this would mean anything. Becoming an idol… isn’t my dream.”
Min Heejae looked around.
But his eyes didn’t linger anywhere.
He wasn’t seeing the present—just searching the air for someone no longer there.
“…It was her dream.”
Little Pink Starfish 
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