Chapter 45…
“Uncle Gwaeng-i, do I really have to go to the company alone?!”
“Go.”
He shut the van door and waved his hand, indifferent to her sulky protest.
Today they said the Twits renewal contract documents needed to be redrafted.
I told her it wasn’t urgent, but she said it was better to wrap it up quickly.
“…That drive of hers—yep, that’s Oh Ye-ji all right.”
I debated following her, but since I couldn’t find any issues with the contract CEO Han sent me, I told her to go by herself.
Today I planned to head to the office, have lunch with the lady there, then meet the labor attorney who had appeared on Welcome.
“They won’t even answer an email inquiry unless you pay a consultation fee?”
Unbelievable.
“I’d heard he was business-friendly, but this is something else.”
The labor law firm where that attorney worked advertised everywhere, so getting a consultation appointment was nearly impossible.
Luckily, today there was a cancellation, so I paid the fee and reserved 5 p.m.
After lunch, I suddenly had free time.
“Before then, I’d better draft the complaint and discuss with CEO Han who should be lead counsel.”
Honestly, this kind of case was usually better handled by a big law firm.
There were too many branches of issues for a solo attorney to handle.
But CEO Han of Yuria entrusted it to me, just an individual.
“Thanks to the title of being Oh Ye-ji’s uncle. The problem is the optics.”
It was obvious that both the major firms and CNine would watch closely to see who was named lead counsel.
The firms would want to tear me down from the other side.
CNine would be curious about the guy giving advice that made Ye-ji defy them.
“I don’t have to be lead counsel, but I do want to see Jo Ji-han’s smug face in court.”
I put the thought aside and opened my phone.
Rrrring. Click.
The call ended right after the dial tone.
—Attorney Cha.
“CEO Han, are you busy?”
—Not at all. I was about to call you, actually. Miss Oh Ye-ji just stopped by.
CEO Han explained that members without agencies had renewed with Ye-ji, and the others agreed to renew unless they had special circumstances.
It’s like he read my mind.
It was a relief.
—By the way, I heard you pulled quite a stunt at Style Entertainment.
“…I just let them underestimate me.”
“Yes, I figured as much,” he chuckled, without losing his smile.
Ye-ji, just what did you say there…
Later I sent her a Kakao message, worried she might’ve said all sorts of things since I let her go alone.
—Attorney Cha, shall we get started now?
“Yes, thank you for waiting until now. Thanks to you, it’ll be easier to argue in court.”
—That’s what being an artist is about. By the way, didn’t you say you were meeting a labor attorney affiliated with Welcome today at 5?
“Yes.”
—If you don’t mind, may our legal team handle that matter instead?
“I heard you’re short on staff. Is there any need to pile on more work?”
—It’s just that our legal team leader has material on that person.
“…Hm?”
He personally had information?
—Apparently, back at his old company, he got burned because of that labor attorney.
“…What happened?”
—He was entrusted with labor management, but the attorney cut corners and left him holding the bag. It wasn’t his fault, but society always forces someone to take responsibility.
So the labor attorney was the trigger, and he bled in the factional fight.
“What a coincidence.”
—The world really is small.
“Then I’ll leave this to your legal team leader. I was already considering making him lead counsel anyway.”
His résumé checked out—he wasn’t lacking in skill.
He’d left a law firm after being headhunted to a major corporate legal team.
But perhaps Han hadn’t expected that, because he fell silent in thought.
“There’s no need to overthink it. It’s to show the world that Yuria isn’t just a company ending as CNine’s label. Even without borrowing CNine’s name, it’s formidable.”
The point was to convey that the company could handle legal disputes on its own, not that there was some hidden agenda.
Even if I collaborated with another lawyer.
The sound of a storm passing by brushed my ears.
—If you do that, people won’t credit this to your career, Attorney Cha.
“My past career is already more than enough.”
Few lawyers had been promoted as quickly at Continent. And I was one of those few.
After a faint laugh of unknown meaning, Han agreed.
—Still, I’d like you to argue in court yourself.
Meaning he wanted me seated at counsel’s table with the lead attorney.
“Understood. Oh, and please give my regards to the PR team. Thanks to them, things went smoothly and I can draft the complaint right away.”
I’d stopped by to deliver a USB once, but the PR team was filled with people radiating overwhelming energy.
According to Ye-ji, it was like that cosmetics store where introverts get their energy drained just by stepping in—exactly that vibe.
I wouldn’t go twice if I could help it.
Han hummed about giving them bonuses, then suddenly lowered his voice.
—This is a secret.
That déjà vu feeling again.
—The PR team leader used to be Pineapple’s North America PR head. He was homesick for Korea, so when he came on a trip, I scouted him.
“…Pineapple—as in the world’s No. 2 by market cap? He was that company’s NA PR head?”
—Yes! I got really lucky. I happened to be looking for a PR head, and then he just dropped from the sky.
That’s some insane connection-building…
“How on earth did you even know him?”
—Do you know Universal Music?
“The world’s No. 1 music label and distributor.”
—At the time, I was in A&R at Interscope Records, so I was invited to the Pineapple Music Festival.
“…?”
—That’s when I met him. There weren’t many Koreans in the industry there, so we kept in touch now and then. When I joined Yuria, that connection came through!
…What kind of company is this, really?
I didn’t even dare ask anymore how CEO Han ended up at Yuria.
That day, I returned home to an unusually chilly atmosphere.
I turned on the boiler.
Put water on the kettle.
Took a script book down from the shelf.
“The urgent fires are all put out.”
The day I first got the script book, I couldn’t use my psychometry on it because I’d already exhausted my two daily uses.
Used one in the editing room too.
My experience had grown so I could view longer, but since I never knew when I might need it, I’d put off using it on the script book I’d just gotten.
“Now I’ve done the video-script comparison and wrapped up Ye-ji’s mess too.”
What scenes would the script show me?
I focused.
“—Hup!”
Buzz.
Boom. Boom. Boom!
A strange dining bar, its ceiling shifting from violet to crimson with the beat of music.
There was even a dress code.
Definitely one of those private bars I’d only heard about.
Since this is from the script book, someone connected to PD Jo Ji-han must be here.
But there were far too many people.
I swallowed a sigh.
Scanning faces quickly as I pushed through the crowd.
Where…
Here?
There?
No one.
Time passed, yet I couldn’t find Jo Ji-han, much less the person holding the script book.
Damn it.
I moved to the terrace guarded by security.
It was only slightly quieter than inside, but just as packed.
Something was odd.
Around a shallow pool in the center, cloth partitions divided spaces, some of which were completely off-limits to outsiders.
Inside and outside, ranks upon ranks.
So that’s the VVIP area.
A vague hunch told me I’d find clues there.
I walked straight in.
Unhindered, I slipped inside the draped enclosure.
“…!”
Found him.
PD Jo Ji-han, showing a script book to a foreign man.
I strained to hear his whispering words.
“I wrote it a little more blatantly this time. But they won’t notice. Korean has that double edge—you can’t catch it just from text.”
“Yes, Korean is like that.”
The man watched the script book with interest.
He swirled a chilled champagne glass.
“Chairman, if we add a little spin to the directing, things will get even messier. What do you think?”
“Can you crush them? Last time His Grace bestowed favor, but remnants lingered. Wasn’t there a daughter?”
“Hah, sharing blood doesn’t make someone family.”
Jo Ji-han grinned like a demon and rolled up the script book.
“We’ve already lined up reverse-viral marketing firms. Before releasing the footage, we’ll scatter bait. The overseas reaction will hit first.”
“Hm. Still, I don’t think the return will justify the investment.”
The man sipped, reluctant.
“This time it’ll be different. Even Style agreed to help.”
“…That stubborn man, helping when it comes to artist treatment? Something internal must be going on.”
They’re talking about Oh Ye-ji.
Thud.
The man set his glass down and looked at me instead of Jo.
“Since His Grace has spoken, I’ll trust once more. I’ll invest.”
“Thank you so much.”
Jo clasped his hands over his chest and bowed.
Click—
The vision ended.
So he knows CEO Go of Style Entertainment well…
That foreign chairman was definitely an industry insider.
A bad thought tore through my mind.
“…Surely it’s not the Dive chairman? That would make things big.”
I shoved aside the script and hurriedly searched him up.
No recent photos.
Only a few from articles seven years ago.
Come to think of it—
“He’s stayed out of the public eye since then. Some accident in Japan.”
Even if he’d had plastic surgery, his unique features should remain.
The down-slanting eyes, blunt nose bridge, the wart near his square jaw.
Even if all that was gone, the bone structure was different from the foreigner in the video.
“Then who is he?”
I searched other entertainment chairmen, but none matched.
If there was a concrete lead, I could investigate myself or hire a PI.
But I can’t just screenshot my psychometry visions and run an image search.
Frustrating.
And then—
“Who is this ‘His Grace’ the foreigner mentioned?”
A VVIP referring to “His Grace.”
One thing was clear: he was the same vile breed as Jo Ji-han.
For now, I set it aside.
If we won this lawsuit, someone would show up to save Jo Ji-han.
“…Unless he’s a throwaway pawn.”
But even if no one appeared, it didn’t matter.
I’d hit Jo Ji-han over and over anyway.
I opened his profile.
Scrolled down, clicked an article.
A video of him bowing filled the screen.
“Confirmed.”
I rummaged through my drawer for the photo I’d gotten as a reward.
Pulled out the one that had bothered me.
Compared it with the video and Twits article.
Every time Jo Ji-han made that signature bowing gesture, there was some entertainment scandal attached.
“He claimed it was his signature, but no way.”
From his tone and eyes, it was obvious.
It was a signal—to tell someone a job was done.
Like that middle-aged man with the ponytail from my psychometry vision.
Or—
“‘His Grace.’”
