A lawyer was a weapon, and Han Yoo-jin had come to a gunfight armed with a butter knife.
He stood outside Director Park's office, staring at the gold nameplate gleaming under the harsh lights. It looked less like a door and more like the gate to a dragon's hoard. He smoothed the lapels of his cheap, ill-fitting suit for the tenth time. His heart was heavy. He couldn't afford a lawyer. He was walking into his own execution, defenseless.
The last time he'd stood here, it had been a desperate bluff. This time, it felt like the consequences. He'd won the showcase battle—but he knew he was about to lose the war.
He thought of Mina's exhausted but shining face after the performance. Failing her now would be worse than any debt. He took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and knocked.
The secretary waved him in.
Inside, Director Park sat behind his vast desk like a monarch. The two men in black suits from the night before—the company's top lawyers—stood beside him, silent and watchful. On the desk lay a thick, bound document, gleaming under the light.
"Sit down, Han Yoo-jin," Park said, voice flat.
Yoo-jin obeyed, bracing himself.
"You disobeyed direct orders," Park began, his tone heavy. "You operated outside protocol, leaked internal material, and created a PR nightmare my team had to clean up."
Each word landed like a hammer. Yoo-jin's fists tightened under the table.
Then Park's tone changed. "But you also took a forgotten trainee and turned her into the most talked-about name in the country overnight."
He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "You didn't just manage a crisis, Han Yoo-jin. You monetized it."
Yoo-jin's system flickered to life.
[Name: Park Jin-cheol]
[Primary Goal: Monetize Choi Mina (Maximum)]
[Secondary Goal: Leash Han Yoo-jin]
[Emotion: Calculated Greed.]
So this wasn't an execution—it was a negotiation.
Park pushed the document across the desk. "I'm creating a new department: Special Project Management Team. Effective immediately, you're its head."
Yoo-jin blinked. Head of a department? The coffee-fetching assistant manager? It felt unreal.
"Your sole job," Park continued, "is to manage and produce Choi Mina. You'll have your own office, your own budget, and you may choose your core team."
A cold smile crept across the director's face. "You've proven you can make miracles out of thin air. Let's see what you can do with my resources."
Then came the catch.
"In exchange, Mina signs an exclusive seven-year contract with Starforce. Standard terms—with a few performance clauses."
He tapped a page. "You will guarantee her debut album sells five hundred thousand copies in its first month."
Yoo-jin's blood ran cold. Five hundred thousand? That was boy-group territory—impossible for a solo debut.
Park's voice hardened. "And she will win Rookie of the Year."
"If you succeed," he said, leaning back, "you'll receive the largest bonus in company history. If you fail…" His eyes turned to steel. "You and your entire team will bear all production costs. Every single won."
It was a golden leash—a gilded cage.
Yoo-jin stared at the contract. He could walk away. But Mina would be handed to another producer, stripped of her color, turned into another forgettable idol. He thought of his team: Mina's fragile courage, Eun-bi's rekindled passion, Min-hyuk's quiet loyalty. They believed in him. He couldn't abandon them.
He picked up the pen. Park smiled faintly, the smile of a man who believed he'd already won.
He was right.
Yoo-jin signed.
As he slid the contract back, he met Park's gaze with calm defiance. "You'd better print more copies of that album."
The elevator ride down felt endless. The contract in his briefcase weighed like a brick.
When he entered Kang Min-hyuk's café, all eyes turned toward him—Mina, Eun-bi, Min-hyuk. Hope and fear mingled on their faces.
He said nothing at first, only set the contract on the table. Then he told them everything—his promotion, their new department, the impossible conditions.
Min-hyuk whistled low. "Five hundred thousand copies. That man's insane. He's not giving you a crown; he's putting a target on your back."
Eun-bi traced his signature on the page. "You bet everything on us. Again." Her voice was steady but heavy.
Mina stared at her own name bound to a seven-year deal. When she looked up, her eyes were clear. "Okay," she said. "What's our first move, Producer-nim?"
The title hung in the air like a promise.
Their new "office" was a forgotten storage room on the third floor—no windows, no glory. Director Park had given them a title, not a kingdom.
While they unpacked, a TV in the corner crackled with breaking news.
"In a surprise announcement that's shaking the industry," the anchor said, "Titan Entertainment has revealed the debut of their monster rookie girl group—Aurora!"
The screen filled with perfection: four dazzling girls radiating charisma. The debut date flashed in bold letters—next month. The exact same week as Mina's debut.
Not coincidence. A declaration of war.
Yoo-jin's system triggered.
[Name: Isabelle Moon]
[Potential: S-Rank (All-Rounder)]
[Talent: Vocal (S), Dance (S), Leadership (A+)]
[Status: Industry prodigy. Trained 7 years at Titan Entertainment.]
A monster. A corporate juggernaut built for domination.
The air in the room turned heavy. How could a fragile soloist with stage anxiety compete with a machine like that?
Yoo-jin saw the doubt forming and cut through it. "Look at them," he said sharply. "They're a product. We're a story. They're selling perfection—we're selling emotion."
He began to pace, his energy igniting the small room. "A group like that will sell to fans. But we're aiming for the public—the people who felt something when they heard Mina's voice. We don't need collectors. We need believers."
He was trying to convince himself, too. But it worked. The gloom eased a little.
Then the door creaked open.
Everyone turned.
It wasn't a delivery.
It was Lee Hana.
Gone was the arrogant idol in designer clothes. She stood in a plain trainee tracksuit, pale and stripped bare, eyes burning with cold resentment. In her hand was a single sheet—a transfer order.
She met Yoo-jin's gaze. "Starting today," she said, her voice flat and venomous, "Director Park has assigned me to your team."
The room fell silent.
The war had just gotten bigger.