The Scandal-Proof Producer

The second production meeting for the Starlight Festival was Sofia Kang's arena, and she had designed it for a public execution. She had called the meeting under the pretense of "resolving the unfortunate scheduling conflict," a problem she herself had manufactured and leaked to the press. She sat at the head of the long obsidian table at Stellar headquarters, radiating an aura of pragmatic, unimpeachable authority. She expected Han Yoo-jin to arrive flustered, cornered by the negative press, and ready to compromise. She expected a sheep for the slaughter.

She was not prepared for the wolf that walked through the door.

Yoo-jin entered the room with a calm, almost serene confidence that immediately put Sofia on edge. He took his seat, gave her a polite, unreadable smile, and waited for her to begin.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Sofia began, her voice crisp and efficient. She gestured to a large screen displaying the problematic schedule, Ahn Da-eun's indie stage a small box tragically overlapping with the massive block reserved for the festival headliner, Celestial. "As you know, an early draft of the schedule was unfortunately leaked, highlighting a significant conflict in the broadcast portion of our show. It's a messy situation, but I believe I've come up with a solution that is a win-win for everyone."

She clicked a remote, and a new schedule appeared. In it, Aura's stage time was cut by a full thirty minutes. The more significant change was a new block on the main stage schedule, inserted right before Celestial's finale. It read: SPECIAL COLLABORATION STAGE: CELESTIAL'S CHA EUN-WOO & AURA'S AHN DA-EUN.

"It's the only logical way to de-conflict the broadcast for our television partners," Sofia explained, her tone suggesting this was an act of profound generosity. "We give Ahn Da-eun a massive spotlight on the main stage, a chance to perform with the biggest idol in the country. It's a huge boost for her profile, a viral moment guaranteed. In exchange, for the sake of the overall show flow, her solo stage is slightly truncated. It's a win-win. It's just smart producing."

She looked at Yoo-jin, a triumphant glint in her eye. She had backed him into a corner. If he refused, he would look like an unreasonable egotist, denying his own artist a golden opportunity.

Yoo-jin listened patiently, his expression unchanging. As she spoke, he subtly activated his newly refined ability. He didn't open himself up to her entire being. That was a rookie move. Instead, he deployed a targeted lens, focusing on the one emotion he knew she held in abundance, the one he had practiced on.

[Synchronization Mode: TARGETED]

[Selected Frequency: Professional Contempt / Artistic Snobbery]

[Establishing Connection...]

A clean, sharp feed of information flowed into his mind. He didn't feel her ambition or her confidence. He felt only her pure, unadulterated disdain for the very product she was championing. He felt her private, deeply held belief that the music of the boy group Celestial was derivative, formulaic synth-pop. He felt her professional assessment that their lead singer, Cha Eun-woo, was a handsome, charismatic, but vocally mediocre performer. In her mind, they were a commercial tool, a cash cow, not artists. And the thought of pairing them with the raw, untamed talent of Ahn Da-eun was, in her secret heart, a source of mild artistic disgust, even if it was a brilliant marketing move.

He had what he needed.

When she finished speaking, Yoo-jin didn't argue about the schedule. He didn't mention his contract or creative control. He completely changed the topic, launching a brilliant, unexpected counter-offensive.

"Director Kang," he began, his voice thoughtful and serious. "Your solution is interesting. But I think you've identified a symptom, not the core problem. And I believe we need to address that problem first: the creative integrity of the main stage."

A stunned silence fell over the room. Sofia stared at him, taken completely off guard. The other Stellar executives shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "What are you talking about?" she finally managed to say.

"Celestial is a fine group," Yoo-jin continued, his tone one of sincere, professional concern. "Commercially successful. A credit to the Stellar brand. But let's be honest with ourselves, as producers. Their sound is… dated. It's a perfect execution of 2022 synth-pop. This is the 2024 Starlight Festival. It's supposed to be a showcase of what's next, not a nostalgia tour."

He was taking her own secret, snobbish opinions and voicing them out loud as his own artistic critique. Through the faint, targeted sync, he could feel a flash of her pure frustration, the rage of a chess master watching her opponent use her own hidden strategy against her. He was saying the quiet part out loud, making it impossible for her to defend her headliner's artistic merit without sounding like a corporate hypocrite.

"As the producer of the 'Rising Stars' stage," Yoo-jin went on, pressing his advantage, "my entire mandate is to showcase the future of music. I worry, frankly, that putting my artists anywhere near a creatively stagnant legacy act like Celestial will dilute their brand. It will make them seem behind the times by association. It sends the wrong message."

He saw Director Yoon Ji-seok, who had been silent until now, raise a single, intrigued eyebrow.

Yoo-jin delivered the killing blow. "I cannot, in good conscience as her producer, have Ahn Da-eun—an artist who international critics are calling 'the future of Korean rock'—perform a duet that ties her to the past. It would be artistic malpractice. It would undermine everything Aura Management stands for."

He had completely derailed her ambush. The conversation was no longer about his inconvenient schedule. It was about the questionable artistic quality of her multi-million-dollar main stage headliner.

Before Sofia could recover, Yoo-jin offered his own "solution."

"Let the stages overlap," he said, leaning forward, his voice filled with a newfound, theatrical confidence. "In fact, let's embrace it. Let's bill it as the story of the festival. The old guard versus the new wave. The establishment versus the revolution. The future of K-pop versus the past. It creates a narrative. It gives the critics something to write about, the fans something to debate. It creates a point of tension that makes the entire festival more interesting."

He looked directly at Sofia, a challenging glint in his eye. "Unless, of course, you're worried your headliner can't compete on a level playing field."

Checkmate.

Sofia Kang was left speechless, her jaw tight with fury. He had turned her cynical power play into a public challenge of artistic courage. She couldn't back down now without implicitly admitting that her star headliner was weak, that she was afraid of the competition from his "little indie darling." She was trapped in a box of his making, built from the materials of her own private contempt.

Yoo-jin had walked into the meeting not to react to her agenda, but to set his own. He had come to produce. And he had just produced a masterpiece of corporate maneuvering, leaving his new rival silent and seething in his wake.