The Scandal-Proof Producer

The heavy door of the Genesis G90 slammed shut, sealing Han Yoo-jin inside a world of silent, opulent leather and polished wood. The abrupt quiet was a stark contrast to the echoing chaos of the parking garage and the searing pain that was radiating from his ribs. The luxury sedan accelerated with a smooth, powerful surge, its tires barely making a sound on the concrete as it sped towards the exit ramp, leaving the two stunned thugs standing dumbly in its wake.

Yoo-jin was slumped in the impossibly comfortable passenger seat, clutching his side, each breath a shallow, painful gasp. His mind was a maelstrom of confusion, pain, and adrenaline. He looked at the man in the driver's seat. Executive Director Yoon Ji-seok sat perfectly still, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel as he navigated the turns with an unhurried, calm precision. His face, illuminated by the passing streetlights, was an unreadable mask of corporate stoicism.

"Are you armed?" Director Yoon asked, his voice completely level, as if he were inquiring about the weather. His eyes were not on Yoo-jin, but on the rearview mirror, checking to see if they were being followed.

The question was so unexpected, so far outside Yoo-jin's realm of reality, that it took him a moment to process. "What? No! Of course not!" he gasped out, the effort of speaking sending a fresh spike of pain through his torso.

"That will need to change," Yoon said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if discussing a necessary line item in a quarterly budget. He didn't elaborate. Instead, he picked up his own phone and made a call, his voice low but firm with absolute authority. "I have a situation. Code 7. Bring Dr. Kim to the clinic on Dosan-daero. I am five minutes out. Have everything ready. Now." He hung up without waiting for a reply.

They drove in silence for those five minutes, a silence that felt heavier and more intimidating to Yoo-jin than any threat. He had a thousand questions burning in his mind, but the pain and the sheer surrealism of the situation kept him quiet. They pulled up to a discreet, unmarked building in a wealthy part of Gangnam. It had the facade of a private art gallery, with no signs or logos. A plainclothes security guard opened a gate to a private underground entrance. This was a place that did not officially exist.

Inside, it was not a gallery but a state-of-the-art private medical clinic, sterile and gleaming with expensive equipment. A calm, middle-aged doctor was waiting for them, his expression professional and unquestioning. As the doctor began to gently examine Yoo-jin, carefully probing his bruised and tender ribs, Yoo-jin finally found his voice. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a desperate need for answers.

"Director Yoon," he said, his voice strained with pain and confusion. He looked at the older man, who was standing by the window, looking out at a small, private garden. "What the hell was that? How did you know I was there? Why did you help me?"

Yoon waited until the doctor had finished his examination, confirming two cracked ribs and severe bruising but no internal bleeding. He waited until the doctor had expertly taped Yoo-jin's torso and administered a painkiller that was already beginning to dull the sharp edges of the agony. Then, and only then, did he turn to face him.

He poured two glasses of filtered water from a pitcher on a small table and handed one to Yoo-jin.

"Let us be perfectly clear, CEO Han," he began, his voice as cool and sterile as the room around them. "I did not help you. I protected an asset. An asset that my Chairman has recently taken a significant interest in."

He took a slow sip of his water. "Chairman Choi and Chairman Nam of the Stellar Group have been rivals for the better part of twenty years. It is a long and storied history. They operate in a state of what you might call a 'corporate cold war.' They attack each other's interests, certainly. They engage in stock manipulation, they poach key personnel, they battle over distribution rights. But there are unspoken rules. A certain… decorum to the battle."

He looked at Yoo-jin, his eyes cold and analytical. "What Director Kang Min-hyuk did tonight—resorting to crude physical violence against the CEO of a company his rival has taken an interest in—is a breach of that protocol. It is an undisciplined, emotional escalation. It is the move of a desperate man, not a corporate leader. And Chairman Choi finds such behavior… distasteful. Uncivilized. Bad for business."

The casual way he spoke of these corporate wars, as if they were gentlemanly chess matches, sent a chill down Yoo-jin's spine. "That still doesn't answer my question," Yoo-jin insisted, pushing through the pain. "How did you know I was there, at that exact moment?"

A thin, almost imperceptible smile touched Director Yoon's lips. "Did you really think a man like Chairman Choi, a man who commands a multi-trillion won media empire, would make a deal with an unknown, unproven entity like you and not take measures to monitor his potential investment? You have had a discreet, two-man security detail following you since the moment you walked out of his hotel last week. They are very good. You never saw them. They were the ones who alerted me when Kang's thugs made their move in the garage."

Yoo-jin stared at him, stunned into silence. He had been under surveillance. By his supposed new partner. His new ally. The feeling of being a pawn on a much larger board was overwhelming. He instinctively scanned Director Yoon with his Producer's Eye, searching for some deeper truth.

[Yoon Ji-seok's Current Thoughts: The boy is tougher than he looks. But he is dangerously naive. He has no idea of the scale of the game he has just stumbled into. He thinks his enemy is Kang Min-hyuk. He does not yet understand that he is now a chess piece in the lifelong war between Chairman Choi and Chairman Nam. His survival depends on how quickly he learns the new rules.]

"Consider tonight a… signing bonus," Yoon said, interrupting Yoo-jin's shocked thoughts. "Chairman Choi has demonstrated his ability, and his willingness, to protect those he partners with. A service Stellar Entertainment clearly no longer provides its former employees."

He reached into his coat pocket and placed a new, encrypted burner phone on the table next to Yoo-jin's water. It was sleek, black, and completely untraceable.

"This is a direct line to my personal assistant," Yoon explained. "If you find yourself in another situation that you cannot handle, use it. A team will be dispatched." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "But understand this, CEO Han. Nothing from Chairman Choi is free. Each time you use that phone, your debt to him grows. He is a man who expects a significant return on all his investments. He has now invested in your physical safety. Do not make him regret it."

Yoo-jin looked from the burner phone—a lifeline and a leash in one small package—to the calm, imposing face of Director Yoon. He had been saved from a back-alley beating, only to be formally conscripted into a war between kings. He had escaped the petty tyranny of Director Kang only to become indebted to a man infinitely more powerful and more dangerous. He was no longer just an independent CEO fighting for his artists. He was now an unofficial asset, a pawn with a target on its back, in a game whose rules he was only just beginning to comprehend.