The Scandal-Proof Producer

With his new, unspoken alliance with Director Yoon solidifying one flank, Yoo-jin turned his attention to the other bizarre consequence of his recent power plays: the unwilling protégé, Oh Min-ji. His first session with her had been a revelation. He hadn't been tasked with polishing a mediocre talent; he had been handed a suppressed genius who was being forced to play the wrong sport.

For their second "session," he didn't book a practice room. He had her meet him in the main conference room at Aura. When she arrived, her expression was as sullen and apathetic as ever, but there was a flicker of something new in her eyes as she looked at him: curiosity. She wordlessly placed the tablet he had given her on the polished table.

"Did you beat it?" Yoo-jin asked, gesturing to the complex business simulation game.

She gave a single, curt nod.

"Don't just tell me you won," he said, leaning back in his chair, treating her not as a trainee, but as a consultant. "I don't care about the victory screen. Give me the debriefing. What was the optimal strategy? Where were the system's exploits? How did you break it?"

For the first time since they had met, Oh Min-ji's posture changed. She straightened up slightly, her gaze focusing on the tablet. The sullen teenage mask fell away, replaced by the sharp, analytical focus of a natural-born strategist.

"The initial resource allocation is a trap," she began, her voice a low, rapid-fire monotone that was completely different from her singing voice. "The tutorial encourages diversification, but the optimal path is a single-resource blitz, monopolizing the synthetics market in the first two quarters. The AI's pricing algorithm is flawed; it can't properly account for a player-driven monopoly and consistently undervalues its own assets in response."

She went on for five solid minutes, brilliantly deconstructing the game's economic model, its flawed AI logic, and the precise mathematical loopholes she had exploited to achieve a perfect score in record time. She spoke with a fiery, intellectual passion that was utterly mesmerizing. This was her art form. Not music. Systems.

Yoo-jin listened, impressed and a little intimidated. Her S-Rank analytical mind was no joke. She saw the world not as a collection of people and emotions, but as a series of complex, interlocking systems waiting to be solved.

He decided it was time for her next test. He needed to see if she could apply that unique, cold logic to their world.

"Good," he said when she finished. "Phase one of your training is complete." He turned the large monitor on the wall towards her. On the screen was the bland, corporate press release Sofia Kang's team at Stellar had put out in response to his press conference. Next to it, he brought up the full Starlight Festival performance schedule.

"This is your new puzzle," Yoo-jin said. "Sofia Kang, the Executive Producer of the main stage, is my current opponent. That press release is her last move. This schedule is the game board. I am black, she is white. Analyze them. Find her weakness. Predict her next move."

Oh Min-ji stared at the screen. The bored, apathetic demeanor she wore like a shield was completely gone, replaced by a look of intense, predatory concentration. Her eyes scanned the press release, then the performance schedule, darting back and forth, absorbing the data. He wasn't asking her to sing. He wasn't asking her to emote. He was asking her to solve for x.

The room was silent for a full ten minutes. Min-ji didn't move, her focus absolute. Yoo-jin waited patiently. Finally, she lifted a hand and pointed a single, steady finger at a specific block of time on the schedule.

"Here," she said, her voice certain. "Her next move is here."

The block she indicated was a 30-minute changeover window between a notoriously loud, technically demanding heavy metal band and the start of Aura's stage.

"Explain," Yoo-jin said.

"She can't win a public debate with you about art versus algorithms," Min-ji stated, her logic cold and flawless. "You've framed it in a way that makes her look like a corporate villain if she argues. She knows that. A direct confrontation is a losing move. So she will pivot from a public battle to a logistical one. She will attack your performance, but in a way that gives her plausible deniability."

She tapped the screen. "This changeover window is her weapon. It's too short for a band with that much equipment. She will schedule a complex, lengthy sound check for the rock band that will 'unexpectedly' run long. It will eat into your setup time. Your crew will be rushed. Your sound check will be compromised. When your stage starts late and your audio mix is terrible, she will apologize profusely on a hot mic, blame it on 'unavoidable technical difficulties,' and you will look unprofessional and amateurish to the broadcast audience and the live crowd. She will humiliate you without ever laying a glove on you."

Yoo-jin stared at her, stunned. The cold, ruthless accuracy of her prediction was staggering. It was exactly the kind of sophisticated, underhanded move he would expect from a producer like Sofia. It was a perfect, deniable act of sabotage.

To be certain, he activated his own ability, focusing on his memory of Sofia from the production meeting.

[Subject: Sofia Kang]

[Projected Short-Term Strategy: Logistical Sabotage via Festival Scheduling (Probability: 85%)]

[Method: Weaponize technical crew and changeover protocols to create unavoidable delays and technical faults for target 'Aura Stage'. Goal: Publicly discredit producer Han Yoo-jin's competence.]

The two readouts—his supernatural insight and her purely logical deduction—had arrived at the exact same conclusion.

He looked at the quiet, sullen girl sitting across from him, and he saw her with a sudden, breathtaking clarity. He had brought her in as a debt payment, a political pawn, a problem to be solved. He now realized what she truly was.

She was a weapon.

A strategic analyst with a mind as sharp and as cold as his own, hidden in plain sight as a "talentless" idol trainee. Director Yoon had wanted him to use her to humiliate her father. But Yoo-jin was going to do something else entirely. He was going to use her to win his war.

"You're right," Yoo-jin said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That's exactly what she's going to do." He turned the monitor back towards himself. "So… now that we know her move, what's our counter?"

Oh Min-ji looked at him, and for the first time, a flicker of a smile touched her own lips. He had not just given her a puzzle; he had invited her to help him solve it. He had created his own secret weapon, a ghost in his own machine. And her name was Oh Min-ji.