The Scandal-Proof Producer

Sofia Kang was a master of control. Her entire career, her entire philosophy, was built on the principle of minimizing variables and maximizing predictable outcomes. Han Yoo-jin, with his public declarations and his infuriatingly "authentic" artists, was the biggest unpredictable variable she had ever encountered, and she intended to bring him to heel.

Having been publicly outmaneuvered at the production meeting, she knew a direct, public confrontation was a losing battle. He had successfully framed himself as the champion of art, and her as the corporate machine. So, she would pivot. If she couldn't control his narrative, she would cripple his ability to perform. Her retaliation would not be a loud explosion; it would be the quiet, insidious hum of a superiorly-wielded bureaucracy.

Kang Ji-won was in his studio, lost in a state of pure creative bliss. The upcoming collaboration with the legendary jazz pianist Kim Shin had lit a fire in him he hadn't felt in years. He was composing a new piece for their joint performance, a complex and beautiful tapestry of sound that pushed the boundaries of his own immense talent. The resentment and cynicism that had plagued him for weeks had been burned away by the cleansing fire of pure, unadulterated creation. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself again.

His phone rang, dragging him from his reverie. It was an unfamiliar Seoul landline. Annoyed at the interruption, he answered curtly. "Hello?"

"Am I speaking with Composer Kang Ji-won?" The voice on the other end was formal, male, and carried the dry, official tone of a government employee.

"This is he," Ji-won replied, his patience already wearing thin.

"Sir, my name is Lee Dong-hwan. I am a compliance officer with the Musician's Copyright Association of Korea," the man said. "I am calling to inform you that we are conducting a routine review of the registered catalog for your former alias, 'Ghost'."

Ji-won sat up straighter, a feeling of confusion and unease replacing his annoyance. "My… my Ghost catalog? That hasn't been active in years. What is this about?"

"We received an anonymous inquiry regarding a specific composition," the officer continued, his voice a dispassionate monotone. "A piece titled 'Asphalt Blooms' from your 'Nocturnes for a Burning City' suite."

The name of the obscure, deeply personal piece of music hit Ji-won like a physical blow. It was the same composition that both his anonymous tormentor 'Cassandra' and the Top Tier executive Nam Gyu-ri had mentioned. The coincidence was too great. A cold knot of dread formed in his stomach.

"The inquiry," the officer said, pausing to consult his notes, "suggests a striking structural and harmonic similarity between a four-bar chord progression in 'Asphalt Blooms' and a piece by the late German experimental composer Klaus Richter, specifically from his 1978 album, Klangfarbenmelodie. To be clear, this is not a formal plagiarism accusation at this time. It is a preliminary copyright review, as is our standard procedure when such inquiries are raised."

Ji-won felt a surge of white-hot rage. It was absurd. Klaus Richter was a hero of his, but his own work was meticulously, fiercely original. But he also knew how the industry worked. The accusation itself, however baseless, was the weapon. A formal review by MCAK was a serious matter. It could cast a long, ugly shadow on his reputation.

"That is absolutely ridiculous," Ji-won snapped into the phone. "My work is my own."

"I understand, sir," the officer said placidly. "To resolve the review, we will simply need you to provide all original project files for the composition in question—every MIDI file, every audio stem, every saved version—along with a formal written statement detailing your compositional process for the piece. The review board will then analyze the materials. The process typically takes four to six weeks."

Four to six weeks. With the Starlight Festival looming. Ji-won's mind reeled. The glorious inspiration he had felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a cold, simmering fury.

When Yoo-jin was informed of the call, he understood instantly what it was. This was Sofia's retaliation. It was brilliant. It was insidious. She couldn't attack him logistically, so she had gone for the heart of his operation. She was targeting his most valuable, and most volatile, artistic asset.

He focused his ability, not on Ji-won, but on the memory of the incident itself, on the tendrils of intent behind the anonymous inquiry.

[Event Analysis: Anonymous Copyright Inquiry via MCAK]

[Originating Source: Indirect. Traced through three legal intermediaries to a Los Angeles-based consulting firm, 'Kang Strategic Solutions'.]

[Primary Shareholder: Sofia Kang.]

[Strategy: 'Poisoning the Well.' Not a direct, legally actionable accusation, but an official bureaucratic process designed to create professional doubt, tie up the target in administrative red tape, and, most critically, disrupt their creative process and psychological state ahead of a major performance.]

Sofia's fingerprints were all over it. This was a move born of cold, corporate ruthlessness. She had dug into his company, identified his genius composer, and found a way to wound him without ever showing her own hand.

The attack worked perfectly on a psychological level. Kang Ji-won, the ultimate artistic purist, was deeply, personally insulted. The very notion that his originality was being questioned was a venomous dart to his ego. He stormed into his studio, the door slamming shut behind him. The beautiful, complex melody he had been composing was silenced. His creative inspiration vanished, snuffed out by a cold, bureaucratic anger.

He was now forced to abandon his crucial work on the Kim Shin collaboration to spend days, maybe weeks, digging up project files from a seven-year-old hard drive and preparing a detailed legal defense for a crime he didn't commit. He was neutralized.

Yoo-jin knew he couldn't fight this in the legal or administrative arena. That was Sofia's territory. To engage there would be to fall into her trap, to let her bog them down for weeks. He had to fight it where he was strongest: in the court of public opinion. He immediately called Oh Min-ji into his office.

"Sofia's counter-attack," he said grimly, explaining the situation. "She's trying to disable our best weapon by burying him in paperwork and doubt. This is a defensive, attritional move. What is the correct offensive counter?"

Min-ji listened, her expression unreadable. She thought for a moment. "Her attack is quiet and procedural," she said finally. "She wants it to look like a legitimate, boring administrative issue. Therefore, our counter-move must be loud and emotional. You cannot defend against the accusation. You must attack her motive for making it."

Her logic was flawless.

"You must frame this not as a legitimate inquiry," Min-ji continued, "but as a desperate, cowardly attempt by a corporate producer to silence an independent artist whose talent she fears. You need to leak the story. Not as a scandal, but as a tragedy. The story isn't 'Did He Plagiarize?' The story is 'Big Corporation Tries to Bully Indie Genius with Frivolous Claims.'"

Following her strategic advice to the letter, Yoo-jin contacted Pluto. He didn't ask for a hit piece. He spun a narrative of artistic persecution. Within hours, a new article began to circulate, first on a respected music critic's blog, then spreading to larger news sites.

The headline was perfect: THE SOUND OF SILENCE: IS STELLAR'S STARLIGHT PRODUCER TRYING TO MUZZLE AURA'S GENIUS COMPOSER?

The article detailed the "mysterious, anonymous inquiry" into Kang Ji-won's old work, painting it as a classic David-vs-Goliath story. It transformed Sofia's quiet, insidious attack into another public narrative battle.

But Yoo-jin knew it was only a partial victory. The public relations damage to Sofia was real, but the immediate damage to Kang Ji-won's focus, his morale, and his creative spirit had already been done. The sound of silence from his studio was a chilling testament to the effectiveness of Sofia's first real counter-attack.