The Scandal-Proof Producer

The night of the K-Wave Music Festival pulsed with a raw, electric energy. A tidal wave of fifty thousand fans filled the massive stadium, their lightsticks a shimmering, synchronized sea of color under the cool night sky. Backstage was a chaotic ballet of artists, staff, and technicians, a high-stakes world of last-minute preparations and palpable adrenaline.

In the Aura Management dressing room, the atmosphere was a focused, tense calm. Aura Chimera was about to make their live debut. This was the culmination of everything—the documentary, the song, the scandals, the fight. This was their public response, delivered not with words, but with music.

Da-eun was stretching, a focused pillar of strength. Jin was meditating in a corner, his eyes closed, channeling all his pain and anger into a quiet, intense energy. Chae-rin was a bundle of nerves, pacing back and forth until Go Min-young gently guided her to a chair and started a quiet, calming conversation.

Yoo-jin gathered them for one last huddle. He looked at each of his three artists, his three beautiful, broken, and powerful weapons. "Forget the cameras," he said, his voice low and steady. "Forget the millions of people watching at home. Forget OmniCorp. Forget Nam Gyu-ri. Tonight, you are not symbols. You are not a statement. You are a band. Get on that stage, look at each other, and tell your story. Trust the music. Trust each other."

They walked onto the stage to a roar from the crowd that was so immense it felt like a physical force. The lights went down, and a single, haunting piano note echoed through the stadium. The opening chords of "Hollow (Ghosts' Anthem)."

Their performance was transcendent. It was even more raw and powerful than it had been in the studio. The live setting, the energy of the crowd, the shared experience of the last few weeks—it all combined to create something magical. Jin's voice, filled with a heartbreaking vulnerability, captivated the massive audience into a reverent silence. Da-eun's guitar work and powerful harmonies were a foundation of unshakeable strength, a fortress built of sound. And Chae-rin, feeding off the energy of her bandmates and the crowd, delivered her ethereal harmonies with a newfound confidence, her voice a thread of pure, shining light in the darkness.

The chemistry between them was undeniable, a visible, tangible thing. They moved on stage as a single unit, constantly making eye contact, supporting and elevating each other. When the final chorus hit, a soaring anthem of survival and unity, the entire stadium sang along, fifty thousand voices joining theirs. It was a massive, unqualified, legendary success. They hadn't just performed a song; they had led a congregation. Aura Chimera was not just a project group; they were a phenomenon.

Backstage, after the performance, the dressing room erupted in joyous chaos. They were ecstatic, wrapped up in a whirlwind of hugs, happy tears, and breathless congratulations. They had faced down every threat, weathered every storm, and delivered a performance for the ages. In that moment, they felt invincible.

Out in the massive crowd, a lone figure slipped away from the celebrating masses. Ryu stood near an exit, watching the jubilant reaction on the giant stadium screens, his face a strange, unreadable mask of something that was not joy. He pulled out a cheap burner phone and made a call, his voice a low murmur against the roaring crowd.

"She did it," he said into the phone. "The package was delivered a few days ago. They took the bait." He listened for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. The timing should be perfect." He ended the call, melted back into the exiting crowd, and disappeared.

The next morning, Aura Management was the undisputed king of the news cycle. The festival performance had been universally praised as legendary. Riding the massive wave of goodwill, Yoo-jin decided to hold a press conference to celebrate their success and formally announce Aura Chimera's future plans.

The conference room was packed with a horde of reporters and flashing cameras. Yoo-jin, Jin, Da-eun, and Chae-rin sat at a long table on a small riser, the mood triumphant and celebratory. They answered questions about their creative process, their future as a group, and the overwhelming public response to their story. They were in complete control, expertly guiding the narrative.

Then, a reporter from a small, unfamiliar online outlet called "K-Factor News" was given the microphone. She was young, sharp-eyed, and her smile didn't quite reach them.

"CEO Han, congratulations on an incredible performance last night," she began, her voice sweet and polite. "The world is captivated by Aura Chimera. But I have a question about a different artist. An anonymous source has provided our publication with a demo from a struggling indie musician who goes by the name 'Ryu.' Our source claims this demo was submitted to you personally last week for consideration."

Yoo-jin's mind went blank for a split second. Ryu? He'd never heard the name. He was about to issue a polite denial when he saw Chae-rin's face. She had gone utterly, deathly pale, a look of pure, dawning horror in her eyes.

He knew instantly.

Before Yoo-jin could formulate a response, the reporter continued, a predatory glint in her eye. "Our source was concerned that elements of this struggling artist's work might have been… unintentionally incorporated into Aura Chimera's new material. For the sake of transparency, I'd like to play the demo for you now."

She held her phone up to the microphone. A beautiful, heartbreaking melody filled the room. It was the song Ryu had played for Chae-rin in the park, his supposed masterpiece.

Chae-rin felt as if the floor had opened up beneath her. This was not how it was supposed to happen.

The song ended. The room was silent, confused. The melody was beautiful, but it sounded nothing like "Hollow (Ghosts' Anthem)."

"As you can hear," the reporter said, her voice dripping with false sincerity, "it's a lovely song. Now, I'd like to play a short, instrumental clip that our source also provided. Our source alleges this is a composition-in-progress from your own studio."

She played a second audio file. It was a simple, unadorned piano melody, clearly a work-in-progress. It was the foundational melody for Aura Chimera's second, as-yet-unannounced song, a piece Kang Ji-won had just started composing in the last two days, inspired by the group's new dynamic.

And the core melody was strikingly, undeniably, impossibly similar to the chorus of Ryu's demo.

The trap had been sprung.

Nam Gyu-ri had never intended for Yoo-jin to hear the demo and sign the artist. The demo was the trap. She had fed Chae-rin a beautifully crafted piece of bait, knowing her empathy would compel her to deliver it. She had waited, patiently, for Aura's own creative process to begin, for their own genius composer to hear the melody—perhaps subconsciously, from the disc sitting on Yoo-jin's desk—and incorporate its essence into a new work.

Now, at the absolute peak of their triumph, at the height of their public moral victory, she had sprung her trap. She had manufactured a devastating, impossible-to-disprove plagiarism scandal.

Yoo-jin stared out at the sea of flashing cameras and confused, intrigued reporters. He glanced at Chae-rin, who looked like she was about to shatter into a million pieces.

His 'Scandal-Proof Producer' armor had just been pierced, not by a frontal assault from a powerful enemy, but by a simple act of kindness from within his own ranks. Chae-rin, out of the goodness of her own heart, had personally delivered the poison right into their home.