The Scandal-Proof Producer

The television studio was a vortex of controlled chaos. Backstage, the air was a thick, cloying mixture of hairspray, sweat, and nervous energy. In the Aura Management office, however, the air was still and heavy with a singular, focused tension. Han Yoo-jin, Ahn Da-eun, Go Min-young, and Kang Ji-won were huddled around a large monitor, their faces illuminated by the bright, garish colors of the live broadcast. They were watching the online gossip show "Star Secrets," waiting for Lee Seo-yeon's segment to begin. The fate of their company, and of Yoo-jin's personal reputation, now rested entirely on the shoulders of a young woman armed with nothing but her integrity and a dangerous, carefully rehearsed strategy.

"She's on next," Min-young whispered, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white.

On the screen, the show's host, MC Park Hee-jin, finished a segment laughing about an idol's recent haircut, her smile wide and professionally dazzling. But Yoo-jin could see the predatory glint in her eyes. She was a veteran of this world, a smiling assassin known for her ability to coax career-damaging soundbites from her guests under the guise of friendly chatter.

Then, the show's theme music swelled, and the screen cut to a new graphic. "And coming up after the break," MC Park announced, her voice dripping with manufactured excitement, "the story that has everyone talking! The forgotten trainee, the girl left behind by a famous CEO. We have an exclusive interview with the talented Lee Seo-yeon. You won't want to miss her heartbreaking story."

"They're framing it already," Ji-won grunted from his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "Painting her as a victim before she's even said a word."

The show returned from its commercial break. Lee Seo-yeon walked onto the set, which was an explosion of hot pink and glittering gold, a garish backdrop designed to make any serious conversation feel cheap and sensationalist. She looked small and vulnerable in her simple white dress, a stark contrast to the host's flashy, jewel-toned outfit. She sat down opposite MC Park, her posture straight, her hands clasped nervously in her lap.

In the Aura office, the four of them leaned closer to the screen, collectively holding their breath.

MC Park began the interview with a masterful display of feigned empathy. She cooed over Seo-yeon, praising her beauty, her quiet dignity. She talked about the tragedy of the Korean entertainment industry, how so many talented young trainees are overlooked. She was building a narrative, establishing Seo-yeon as a pitiable figure, a beautiful flower crushed by a heartless system. Seo-yeon, following Yoo-jin's meticulous instructions, played her part perfectly. She answered honestly and humbly, her voice soft, her eyes wide and earnest. She appeared to be exactly what the show wanted her to be: a nervous, slightly overwhelmed, and easily manipulated young woman.

Yoo-jin watched MC Park's system panel in his mind's eye. [MC Park Hee-jin's Current Thoughts: Good, she's nervous. Very pliable. Easy to lead down the garden path. Let's establish her as the primary victim first, then introduce the villain.]

"But you were one of the lucky ones, for a time, weren't you?" MC Park said, her tone syrupy-sweet. "You had a manager who truly saw your talent. Han Yoo-jin. He has such a reputation now as a 'Producer Midas,' a man with a golden ear. He must have fought so hard for you when you were both at Stellar Entertainment."

This was the first part of the trap. Seo-yeon had to answer truthfully. "Yes," she said, her voice clear and sincere. "CEO Han… he was the only one who truly believed in my voice. He told me it was special. He fought for me to debut as a solo artist. I am forever grateful to him for that time."

The sincerity of her answer was crucial. It established her genuine admiration for Yoo-jin, which would make the "betrayal" she was about to describe seem all the more heartbreaking to the audience. MC Park's smile widened. The bait had been taken.

She leaned forward, her expression shifting to one of deep, conspiratorial sympathy. "It must have been so utterly devastating for you, then," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "When he left Stellar… and started his new company with a new artist, Ahn Da-eun, a girl who fit a more… conventional visual standard. He left you behind. Tell me about that heartbreak. Tell our viewers how it felt to be abandoned by the one person you trusted most."

This was it. The kill shot. The moment The Viper and Director Kang were waiting for. In the Aura office, Min-young squeezed her eyes shut.

Seo-yeon looked down at her hands, her shoulders trembling slightly. The director in the broadcast control room, smelling blood, barked an order. "Camera two, push in for a tight close-up! Get the tears!"

The camera zoomed in on Seo-yeon's face. A single tear traced a path down her cheek. But when she looked back up, her expression wasn't one of heartbreak. It was one of deep, profound confusion.

"Abandoned?" she repeated, her voice trembling slightly, as if she was struggling to understand the word itself. "No… CEO Han has always supported me. He gave me his card just last week and told me to keep practicing."

MC Park was momentarily thrown off script. This was not the rehearsed response. "But… you must have been heartbroken," she pressed, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"I was heartbroken when my contract was terminated," Seo-yeon clarified. "But that wasn't his decision. He was very kind. But… speaking of feeling abandoned… something very strange did happen to me recently."

MC Park, sensing a new, unexpected, and possibly even juicier story, immediately latched on. Her journalistic instincts took over. "Strange?" she asked, her eyes lighting up. "What happened, Seo-yeon? You can tell us."

Seo-yeon took a shaky breath. She was now off-roading, following Yoo-jin's risky, brilliant script. She looked directly into the camera, her expression a perfect portrait of wide-eyed innocence.

"Well… I work part-time at a coffee shop to make ends meet," she began. "And for the past few weeks, a very kind, stylish woman has been coming in. She told me she was a casting director. She was so nice to me."

She paused, as if gathering her courage. "And then a few days ago, she told me she could get me an audition. A real one. For a huge drama OST. She said it would change my life. But… there was a condition."

"A condition?" MC Park prompted, leaning so far forward she was practically on the edge of her seat.

Seo-yeon's lower lip trembled. "She said that to get the audition… I had to do an interview first. And she said I had to say… sad things about CEO Han. She told me to tell people that I felt abandoned and betrayed by him, even though it's not true. She said… she said it would make a better story for the public."

A gasp rippled through the live studio audience. MC Park was momentarily speechless, her professional smile frozen on her face. This was not the story she had been paid by an anonymous source to get. This was a completely different, far more scandalous story.

Seo-yeon delivered the final, innocent kill shot, her eyes welling with what looked like genuine tears of fear and confusion. "It felt so wrong. I didn't know what to do. It scared me." She looked directly at MC Park, her expression pleading. "Is that… is that normal in this industry? Do you have to lie about good people just to get a chance to sing?"

She had not made a single accusation. She had not named a single name. She had simply asked a question, a devastatingly innocent question that implicated the entire system. She had positioned herself as the pure-hearted victim, not of Han Yoo-jin, but of a corrupt, anonymous industry predator. She had taken the bomb The Viper had strapped to her chest, disarmed it, and held it up for the entire world to see.

In the broadcast control room, there was chaos. On the set, MC Park was stammering, trying to regain control of an interview that had spectacularly derailed. And in the Aura Management office, Han Yoo-jin leaned back in his chair, a slow, grim smile spreading across his face. The ambush had been turned back on the ambushers.