The Company Cares More Than the Artist

I found it odd. She should have had legal counsel of her own.

"Oh Ye-ji, what's going on?"

"A request usually means good news. Not for me, of course."

I hesitated. I never knew when a mission might drop.

Part of me wanted to refuse on the spot, but one thing caught me.

"You’re asking me, not the company."

That meant this was something serious enough for the company to keep under wraps.

Probably a contract issue, or something involving the broadcast station.

So I felt a little sorry for her.

How frustrated did she have to be, to go so far as to beg some nonsense about Cat Uncle?

"What should I do?"

I kept opening and closing the chat window until my mother’s profile photo, taken with me, caught my eye.

If she’d known about this, she would’ve snapped, "A kid asked you for help and you’re still hesitating? Help her right now."

Even back in high school, she had dragged Choi Jae-woo in after he’d had a blowup with the orphanage director and fed and housed him until the CSAT was over.

Children, she said, needed to be embraced by society.

And when I’d bristled and told her, "Why don’t you just raise him yourself, then?" she’d slapped my back so hard I saw stars.

Now I was grateful she’d given me a brother. Thanks to Mom, I had one.

When I thought about the Continent Law Firm, it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle at the same time, but I still wanted to focus on my mother’s case alone.

"...She called me Uncle."

It was weirdly touching.

Tap, tap, tap.

"How can I help you?"

"How about next Wednesday? I’m meeting Min Ho-jun on Tuesday."

I planned to buy him a meal for helping me get the restaurant CCTV footage.

The moment I finalized my schedule, a notification tone sounded and a mission popped up.

"So that's what it is. Once you've experienced it, you can tell what it wants."

Again, it was telling me to find someone by the exclamation point. Even though it still wouldn't guarantee me a weekend, a strange rush of exhilaration welled up inside me.

For the first time, I felt I might actually be able to resolve my mother’s case this year.

After telling Oh Ye-ji I'd come by tomorrow, I turned on my computer.

"Maybe I should look at some headline rulings and study the broad field of entertainment law."

What people commonly called entertainment law was the body of law applied to the entertainment industry.

Copyright, defamation, the Unfair Competition Prevention Act, publicity rights, the Network Act, the Broadcasting Act, and more were representative examples.

There were seven major firms that handled those overlaps, and five of them served Dive Entertainment as legal counsel.

"If it's Style, then it's unrelated to Dive, right?"

If they were tangled up with Dive, that was bad enough, but the bigger problem was that they’d likely spend her entire life in entertainment harassing her with lawsuits and criminal complaints.

I searched, and sure enough, the company had nothing to do with Dive.

"Thank God."

I dug through recent rulings, expecting to find something that might foreshadow what could happen to Oh Ye-ji.

"No headline rulings in entertainment."

The closest thing that stood out in another field was a constitutional review over a provision banning the sale of contact lenses in electronic commerce.

* * *

The next day.

Saturday, March 16.

Today was the day I had to meet Oh Ye-ji and clear the mission.

"If she told me to come to the company instead of calling, that probably means she has someone to introduce me to."

And odds were, that person was the same one the mission wanted me to find.

"If it's someone I’m supposed to talk legal matters with, then it has to be the CEO."

So, despite it being the weekend, I put on a suit proper for the T.P.O. and headed for Yuria Entertainment near Gwangheungchang Station.

When you come out of Exit 6 at Gwangheungchang Station and start walking, apartment complexes appear. Follow the complex road a little farther and you’ll see a commercial district not far away, and Yuria Entertainment sits at the entrance.

"If their parent company is C9, a big player in the entertainment world, no wonder the building is absurdly huge."

It was so large you could tell from a distance.

I stood at the crosswalk and sent Oh Ye-ji a message.

Tap, tap, tap.

"I'm almost there."

She must have been waiting for my reply, because the unread count vanished immediately.

Then my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Meow Uncle! You said you were at the crosswalk, right? Is there a restaurant nearby?"

"Did you call me Meow because I said, 'Cats are a bit...'?"

She said cats were near-sighted and nocturnal, so they might not see well during the day, then urged me to tell her the restaurant name quickly.

"...I'm standing in front of a seaweed rice bowl place."

"I'll be right out!"

Click.

"Am I just not getting millennial humor? Meow?"

The joke landed with a slight emotional bruise.

Still, I crossed the street and reached the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yuria Entertainment building.

Not long after, a person with a hat and mask covering their face came out of the building.

"Meow Uncle!"

"...Oh Ye-ji?"

"Should we go to the company café over there?"

"Aren’t we supposed to talk at the company?"

I was uneasy before anything else.

Not just because of the mission.

"Is it really okay for an idol to be seen with an adult man? Fans and the press won't take it kindly."

Rumors didn't get that name for nothing.

Even if something wasn't true, the public would happily attach all sorts of filth to it and turn it into a dirty story.

Oh Ye-ji grinned, then pulled her company ID card from her pocket.

"As long as I have this, there's no problem! Besides, it's the company café. Everyone will just think, 'Oh, she stepped out with someone from the company for a bit.'"

I was still a little uneasy, but since the mission had reacted to Oh Ye-ji, I decided to follow her lead.

Inside the company café, Oh Ye-ji pointed to a study room separated by opaque glass.

"Uncle, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here! I reserved it."

We went into the study room.

Drinks and snacks were already set out on the table.

"Mom said you like traditional tea, so I ordered jujube tea."

"...I was planning to buy it myself."

"You’re the one giving up your weekend time for me."

Oh Ye-ji smiled brightly, then suddenly lowered her voice.

"This is a secret, but I got a pretty big settlement, so even if the tea money comes out of my account, I won’t even notice it."

Then she told the auntie to keep it a secret.

I didn't answer; I just laughed.

"Then I suppose I’ll raid your account a little."

"Yep!"

I felt a tiny bit awkward, but I drank the tea the girl had bought for me.

Sweet and easy to drink.

After some small talk, Oh Ye-ji speared a piece of gaeseong juak with her fork.

"Uncle, you know I was originally in Style Entertainment's debut lineup, but I got cut for age restrictions, and then debuted with Twice through the mn3t survival show, right?"

Style Entertainment was her original company.

It was one of those places people called a great gatekeeper.

"Yes, I heard that from your mother. And that you were the only trainee in the company who applied for Twice."

It had really meant something to her to get her name out there, because if she ever made it into a future girl group debut lineup, that recognition would help.

And she had worked hard enough to debut in first place.

"The Style representative called me. He said he'd put together a debut team for our Ye-ji, and that once Twice's activities ended, he'd have everything set so she could debut right away."

Twice was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠set to wrap up activities on June 31, 2026, so there were still about two and a half years left.

"But then one of the debut-team younger members contacted me, and what he said was totally different from what the representative told me."

"How was it different?"

Angry, Oh Ye-ji clutched her glass so tightly she looked just like her mother.

"They said they formed a seven-member group, picked seven people, and everyone's already living together in the dorm. They even finished mastering the debut song."

"...Mastering is the final step before you improve the track’s quality, isn't it?"

"Exactly. Which means they're basically right before debut."

A verbal contract is still a contract.

"Did you record the call with the Style representative?"

"Yes."

And they still pushed ahead?

Oh Ye-ji, who had been drinking a strawberry smoothie, slammed the glass down.

"I asked the representative if it was true. He said yes, and I’ve spent seven years at Style Entertainment!"

I understood why she’d gritted her teeth.

Seven years meant she’d started trainee life the moment she finished elementary school and spent her entire teens with the company.

Then, all of a sudden, the representative who was practically a foster parent had changed his story. Of course trust would shatter into pieces.

"Do you know what he said?"

He'd release her without any penalty fee.

"And if I didn't like that, he'd debut me as a solo singer. If I wanted to become an actress, he'd let me take acting classes, but, sigh."

I didn't know enough about the entertainment industry to judge which would be the better option.

But judging by the furrow between Oh Ye-ji's brows, neither of them was a good one.

"Did the Style representative give a reason for suddenly changing his mind?"

I knew Twice. Even a civilian like me knew Twice. So why would a big-company executive, someone sharp enough to work in idol management, let Oh Ye-ji slip away?

There had to be some benefit that matched the loss.

And sure enough.

"Someone else was in the debut lineup. A trainee who joined at the end of last year is the granddaughter of Elaine Group."

"...Elaine, the car company?"

"Yeah. She said she would invest in Elaine, so why can't we debut like this? Don't wait for me, she told me."

If Oh Ye-ji is in the group, their odds of doing better go up.

"At first I thought maybe she was just impatient because she’s around my age. But then I found out she's four years younger than me."

So age isn't even the issue. Then why?

"You don't get it, do you, Uncle?"

"No. I don't really know this side of things."

"She wants the group's identity for herself."

Oh Ye-ji folded her arms.

"Among trainees, we call that a severe case of central-member syndrome."

What kind of syndrome?

"Like how Oh Ye-ji is what people think of when they think of Twice."

"She wants to become the identity people associate with the next girl group, but if Oh Ye-ji joins, that becomes impossible?"

"Exactly!"

She was frighteningly quick to catch praise aimed at herself.

So the member Style is pushing must be that granddaughter.

Well, if they’d gotten an investment, of course they’d push her.

"Let me ask one thing. Do you want to go back to Style Entertainment? As a future girl-group member?"

"No! The trust is broken, isn't it? And they might not even debut me as a solo singer anymore."

Even if she debuted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as a solo artist, she’d likely end up being sidelined because they’d be busy propping up the next girl group instead, apparently.

"That's probably true. Even if you did well as a solo singer, problems would still come up. Elaine invested in their granddaughter, after all."

"Right."

Style's next girl group had gone up in smoke.

"Then we need another way."

"Yes."

"Let's use the condition against them."

The answer came to me.

"Can this project group renew their contract?"

"......?!"

"Style Entertainment said they'd release you without any penalty. Isn't that, by settlement ratio alone, already a better opportunity?"

Oh Ye-ji, usually so bold, now looked like a little kid waiting for someone to open the door to a locked room.

"I wanted to do that too, so I brought it up, but..."

There had never been a precedent for a project group renewing its contract.

"Then Twice can be the first."

"...I don't think that's possible. Twice's situation isn't good right now."

That puzzled me.

"When I looked around yesterday, I didn't see any bad news."

She wiped her eyes with a tissue I handed her and turned on her smartphone.

"It happened a while ago, but the company got hit hard because of an entertainment show."

"......?"

She turned the phone so I could see the screen.

"Clickbait?"

"I don't know."

If they were workers, this should have been a social news piece, not entertainment news.

It had to be a newspaper run by a viral marketing outfit, the kind that dragged in Twice fans and antis just to inflate traffic.

"So, an attention-grabber?"

"Not anymore."

She manipulated the smartphone, and more similar articles spilled onto the screen.

"They deliberately targeted you."

"Yeah. Looks like someone's trying to frame Twice as a flop-group."

What were they even planning to do by slapping a project girl group with a flop-group frame?

To be blunt, if they don’t renew, the group's activities end anyway.

"Uncle, the company has suffered a huge loss. Do you think they’ll renew the contract? ...I don't think so."

There was only one thing I could say to Oh Ye-ji, who had drooped and begun venting her frustration in a long, exhausted stream.

"If Oh Ye-ji helps, it’s possible."

"...Huh, how?"

"First, niece, finish the gaeseong juak you stored in your cheeks."

She gasped and covered her mouth.

"Let's go meet CEO Han Yu-chan right now."

I opened the door.