The Scandal-Proof Producer

The conference room at Aura Management was packed, a stark contrast to the company's modest size. Yoo-jin had called an "emergency press conference," a bold and aggressive move that had sent ripples of curiosity through the industry. He had personally curated the list of attendees, inviting only the most influential music critics, a handful of veteran industry journalists he trusted, Simon Vance's Korean correspondent, and his contact, Pluto, who had broken the Director Kang story.

Live streams were active. Cameras were rolling. In their respective offices across Seoul, Sofia Kang and the executive team at Stellar were watching, blindsided and alarmed by this sudden, proactive maneuver. They had expected Yoo-jin to be scrambling to deal with the scheduling leak, not seizing the narrative.

Yoo-jin walked to the podium, projecting an aura of calm, unshakeable confidence. He looked out at the sea of familiar, skeptical faces.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," he began, his voice even and strong. "I wanted to address some of the recent speculation regarding Aura Management's participation in the upcoming Starlight Festival."

He smiled, a disarming, almost charming gesture. "First, let me say how honored we are that Stellar Entertainment has invited our artists to perform. It's a testament to their commitment to showcasing a diverse range of talent, and we are thrilled to participate."

He let the polite corporate praise hang in the air for a moment before deftly twisting the knife.

"I'd also like to directly address the 'scheduling controversy' that has been making the rounds online," he said, his expression turning more serious. "There has been talk of a conflict between our 'Indie & Rising Stars' stage and the main stage headliner. I want to be perfectly clear. This is not a conflict. It is not a mistake. It is a conscious artistic choice. We believe the audience, the true fans of music, deserve a clear choice between two different, competing philosophies of what music can and should be."

In her office, Sofia Kang narrowed her eyes. He wasn't defending. He was reframing the entire debate.

"And to make that choice even clearer," Yoo-jin continued, his voice building with theatrical flair, "I have a special announcement to make today. We are adding a surprise special guest to the Aura Management stage lineup." He paused for effect. "We wanted to invite an artist who represents the absolute pinnacle of musical innovation. An artist whose work defies easy categorization, who pushes the boundaries of melody and rhythm. An artist who is, in essence, a living challenge to the very idea of a formula."

He gestured to the large screen behind him. An image appeared: a black-and-white, moody photograph of a man in his late sixties with a wild mane of gray hair and fiercely intelligent eyes. It was Kim Shin, a semi-legendary, reclusive experimental jazz pianist. He was a musician's musician, a cult figure revered by critics and fellow artists for his incredibly complex, atonal compositions and his mastery of bizarre, constantly shifting time signatures. He was Kang Ji-won's personal idol.

And he was the living embodiment of everything the Nightingale AI would define as 'data corruption.'

"We are honored to announce that the legendary Kim Shin will be joining our stage for a special collaborative performance with our own Kang Ji-won," Yoo-jin announced. The room erupted in a murmur of shocked excitement. Kim Shin hadn't performed publicly in over five years. It was a massive, unbelievable coup for a small agency like Aura.

But Yoo-jin wasn't finished. Now that he had their full attention, he moved in for the kill. He masterfully exposed Sofia's secret project without ever mentioning her, Jin, or the AI by name.

"I've heard whispers in this industry," he said, his tone turning philosophical. "Whispers that the future of music lies not in the human soul, but in data. A belief that hit songs are no longer born from inspiration or pain, but can be generated by algorithms, analyzing what is popular and simply creating more of the same. It's a vision where artists become 'unreliable variables,' and audiences are reduced to data points to be harvested. A vision where if you can just create the perfect, predictable, scientifically engineered hook, you can guarantee a hit and remove all the messy, unpredictable humanity from art."

On the livestream feed displayed on a monitor to his side, Yoo-jin could see a close-up of Sofia Kang's face. She was pale, her confident smirk completely gone, replaced by a look of cold, dawning horror. He knew she was watching. He was speaking directly to her.

"We at Aura Management believe this is a soulless vision," he declared, his voice ringing with passion. "We believe that the humanity—the flaws, the cracks, the unpredictable moments of grace—is the whole point. And our stage at the Starlight Festival will be our formal response to this creeping, data-driven philosophy."

He looked directly into the main broadcast camera, as if speaking to every music lover in the country.

"Our stage will be a celebration of the unpredictable, the complex, the difficult, and the profoundly human. It will be a showcase of music that no algorithm could ever create, performed by artists who refuse to be predictable variables. We invite the audience to come and experience something real. We are not just an alternative stage; we are the control group for the soul of music."

He delivered the final, crushing blow.

"So let the stages overlap. Let the data scientists collect their biometric responses. Let the audience choose what they want to feel. And at the end of the night, let's see which data set is more powerful."

The press conference exploded. The journalists were firing off questions, their minds racing to unpack the dense, philosophical declaration of war he had just made. He had taken Sofia's cynical scheduling conflict and turned it into a public referendum on the future of music. He had exposed the core of her secret project, challenged her on her own terms, and brilliantly, publicly, aligned his small company as the passionate defenders of true artistry against a faceless, corporate, algorithmic threat.

He hadn't just countered her move. He had checkmated her entire game, using the information his spy had provided to turn her own secret experiment into a weapon against her. Sofia Kang had wanted to run a quiet test. Han Yoo-jin had just turned it into the most public, high-stakes trial in the industry.