Park Cha-myung had those thoughts as he led Seon-ho to the smoking area at the back of the company building.
“You don’t smoke, right?”
“I did a bit when I was younger, but I haven’t touched one since I turned twenty.”
“Isn’t that usually the other way around?”
“Yeah, but my environment was what it was.”
“Ah, right.”
Park Cha-myung lit a cigarette.
“If someone invites you to smoke while working, always go along. If just tagging along feels weird, buy one of those electronic cigarettes that only release vapor. You get what I’m saying, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not just saying this for nothing—some of the best stock tips in this business don’t come from drinking sessions, but from the smoking area. Smoking connections outweighs school or regional ties.”
Han Seon-ho suddenly recalled the time he met PD Joo Min-hwan on the smoking terrace.
Seon-ho spoke up.
“Team Leader, is AT the only reason Hye-mi fell out of favour with the CEO?”
“Pretty much. He’s usually so rational and broad-minded, but the moment his son gets involved, his vision narrows… Honestly, isn’t it a bit petty?”
“Could there be any other reasons?”
“Other reasons?”
Park Cha-myung shook his head firmly.
“None. The CEO isn’t someone with time to waste—what other reason would he have to dislike Hye-mi? He’s just pissed that she reported his son as a stalker. But why are you asking all of a sudden?”
“It just seems odd. If they’re going to pressure her, why not just cut her off? Why let her continue working?”
“That’s because of Director Im Guk-han. He’s the only one in the company who can really speak up to the CEO. He suggested that if they were going to kick her out anyway, they might as well let her work for a year and at least earn back the contract fee. Hye-mi wasn’t exactly a trainee who needed extensive training.”
“So the CEO approved it?”
“Well, sort of. He wasn’t thrilled, but he couldn’t outright refuse. Saying no would’ve made him look bad.”
“He already looks bad as it is…”
At Seon-ho’s remark, Park Cha-myung let out a short laugh.
“You’re really taken with Hye-mi, huh? Don’t go saying that anywhere else. I might think the CEO’s being petty, but not everyone does.”
“I know.”
“And do you really think the CEO outright said, ‘I hate Hye-mi’? He just made it obvious, and his subordinates adjusted accordingly. This is kind of hush-hush, but apparently, any good project proposal involving Hye-mi never even made it to his desk for approval.”
Even after hearing Park Cha-myung’s explanation, Han Seon-ho didn’t feel at ease.
The public image of CEO Kim Dong-han was that of a passionate and coldly calculating businessman.
Bold, aggressive, always developing new ventures.
In less flattering terms, someone who didn’t hesitate to use whatever means necessary to make money.
Would someone like that, no matter how much he treasured his son, really toss aside a card like Hye-mi so easily?
If anything, wouldn’t it be more profitable to use her as a cash cow, having her perform at nightclubs or similar venues?
Ah, but that would dilute MOK’s professional image, wouldn’t it?
Still, something didn’t sit right.
Above all, what troubled him most was that a photographer had done something similar to a MOK actress in the past.
Even crimes required a certain degree of imagination and creativity.
That’s why successful crimes often repeated themselves.
“Hmm… actually, there is a hidden story.”
Park Cha-myung’s voice suddenly pulled Seon-ho from his thoughts.
“A hidden story?”
“This isn’t something that can get out. I didn’t even mention it during your interview… But it seems like you and Hye-mi are on the same boat now.”
After emphasizing several times how important it was to keep this a secret, Park Cha-myung finally spoke.
“You know AT was obsessed with Hye-mi, right? He kept showing up whenever she was practicing late at night.”
“Yes. That’s why she reported him as a stalker…”
“Well, the police report didn’t just list stalking.”
“What else?”
“He was also reported for assault.”
Assault.
At that word, Seon-ho felt his blood run cold.
Hearing the photographer’s insults had already enraged him, but this—this was on a whole different level.
Seeing the sudden change in Seon-ho’s expression, Park Cha-myung was startled. This is probably the kind of face someone makes before they kill a person.
“Hey, relax your face. You’re scaring me.”
“So, the bastard who hit someone is still out there working like nothing happened?”
“No, no. If that were the case, I wouldn’t be talking about it so casually. The one who got assaulted wasn’t Hyemi.”
“Huh?”
Seon-ho’s expression shifted at the unexpected revelation.
It was like a switch had been flipped—his entire demeanor changed in the span of two blinks.
Watching him, Park Cha-myung’s instincts as a talent scout kicked in.
If Seon-ho could pull off that transformation in front of a camera, I’d be dragging lunchboxes to his auditions myself.
“Then who got assaulted?”
“Oh? Ah, AT did.”
“By whom?”
“Hye-mi.”
“…Are you serious?”
Park Cha-myung took another drag of his cigarette.
“Ridiculous, right?”
“A… a little.”
“A little? Come on, it’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Wait, so Hye-mi actually hit AT? With her fists? Pow pow?”
“Not fists. Hye-mi holds a second-degree black belt in judo and another second-degree in hapkido—combined, that’s four degrees.”
Recalling it now, Seon-ho vaguely remembered a clip from Tomorrow’s K-Star Season 2 introducing her with those credentials.
A soldier father’s principle: in a harsh world, one must be able to protect oneself.
She had been training consistently since she was seven.
“It was Hye-mi who hit him, but AT was at fault. Hye-mi kept trying to ignore him and walk away, so he tried to hold her back by force. And that was in the middle of the night, in an empty practice room.”
“So what happened?”
“What do you mean? Hye-mi lost her patience and took him down with a clean ippon. A perfect throw.”
According to Park Cha-myung, after that, Hye-mi reported AT as a stalker. Lying on the floor groaning, AT got angry and filed a counter-report against her for assault.
“Think about it. If you were a teenage girl, would you want to fangirl over a scarecrow who got wrecked by a woman?”
“No. That’d be tough.”
“Exactly. That’s why the company wants Hye-mi gone. She’s AT’s fatal weakness.”
Park Cha-myung shook his head.
“This might sound bad, but stalking accusations are easy to cover up. You just say, ‘They used to date, had a fight, and in the heat of the moment, one of them called the cops. But now they’re completely over.’ How does that sound?”
“Sounds… familiar.”
“Right? It’s a classic script. And for a nobody like AT, it might even help him.”
Seon-ho knew it wouldn’t be hard to find similar news articles.
“But the dumbass AT made things complicated by reporting that he got beaten up. He sings all these tough-guy songs, but in reality, the leader of a boy group is a weakling? That’s straight-up comedy.”
Park Cha-myung chuckled.
“Then again, a ‘weakling idol’ is kind of fresh. A new concept.”
Hearing everything laid out like this, Seon-ho could understand why things had played out the way they did.
Not only did Hye-mi report the CEO’s only son as a stalker, but she also physically overpowered him.
And yet, AT was the one entirely at fault. But if it got out that he was beaten up by a woman, his image would take a massive hit, to the point where he might not even be able to continue his career.
Of course, the CEO would want to get rid of her.
Even if Hye-mi was a promising talent, the company wouldn’t want to support her.
The only reason she was still working must have been because of Director Im Guk-han’s advice.
It was stupid—denying her any company support while still expecting her to bring in revenue. But organizations didn’t always operate on rationality, even when they were made up of rational individuals.
“The journalist who figured this out and tried to use it as leverage—how much do they know? Just about the stalking? Or the assault too?”
“That’s the weird part. They know everything. The stalking incident was handled quietly by the trainer before the police could get involved, and while the police did show up for the assault, it was smoothed over quickly.”
“Couldn’t it be paparazzi hanging around the company looking for dirt on July Girls or someone on the blacklist? I’ve seen them around a few times.”
Park Cha-myung shook his head.
“No. This happened in a choreographer’s studio barely a week after they signed a contract. No way a journalist would’ve been staking out that place.”
“That is strange.”
“It is, but hey—thanks to that, you got into MOK. And for Hye-mi, it might have been for the best. How was she supposed to continue her career in that situation?”
“Maybe you’re right.”
After a moment of thought, Seon-ho finally nodded. Learning that AT had actually been the one beaten up cleared up a lot of his doubts.
But the past wasn’t what mattered now.
What mattered was the future.
“You’re preparing for Tomorrow’s K-Star, right? Oh, and I heard Joo Min-hwan’s been badmouthing you.”
“Oh. PD Joo? Well, he’s got every right to.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I’m about to cut his song.”
“For real? Is Hye-mi that picky?”
Seon-ho shook his head.
“No. I’m the one cutting it.”
Right now, the priority was to elevate Hye-mi.
And the first step was Tomorrow’s K-Star.
“Unbelievable! This is insane!”
Jung Su-rim kept shouting as she jumped excitedly.
She had just finished listening to Autumn Leaf by Prefer.
“Wow, this is so good! Unnie, who made this? It feels like it was written specifically for us!”
“Seon-ho oppa commissioned it from a composer named Prefer. He planned everything out—the concept, the direction, everything.”
“Oppa?”
Hearing the sudden change in how Hye-mi addressed him, Jung Su-rim’s eyes sparkled.
Honestly, after what he did for her, she could probably call him ‘Dad’ instead.
Seon-ho, standing nearby, spoke up.
“So, does Su-rim-ssi like it too?”
“Yes! I love it! Do you have any other songs by this composer? I want to listen to more!”
“He’s a rookie, so this is his first track.”
“What? Really? This is his first song? Then he’s a total genius!”
“Genius… might be a bit much.”
“No way, he is a genius! Even if he’s been practicing for years, for this to be his debut track—!”
Seon-ho awkwardly scratched his chin.
Agreeing outright would feel shameless, but denying it outright would feel weird too.
A simple lie to get an honest critique from Hye-mi was starting to snowball.
Still, it seemed like a good decision.
Music needed to be discussed freely, and if they knew he was the composer, that wouldn’t happen.
Unless they were really bold, most people wouldn’t be able to critique a song to the composer’s face.
Besides, a “rookie composer” making the track had a very different ring to it than a “road manager” making it.
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