Chapter 4
…So I had declared all that pretty boldly.
But—
“Why did this body live such an impressively pathetic life…?”
If I had this money, this family, and this face, there was no way I would live like that.
Se-rang stared at the Complete Life of Yeon Se-rang report Secretary Cha had brought her, genuinely awestruck.
The real Yeon Se-rang had done every disgraceful thing imaginable, short of committing an actual crime.
And honestly, if Chairman Yeon Kang-ho had not kept a close watch on her, she probably would have crossed even that line.
“Drunk every single day, causing every accident possible… I guess I should be grateful she never seriously injured anyone.”
Property damage was a weekly occurrence.
She picked fights with club and bar staff so often that the settlement money alone totaled billions.
She had humiliated Imperial employees and household staff alike, so much that quite a few had quit outright.
At this point, Se-rang could almost understand why Baek Do-gyeong openly despised her.
The anger bubbling up inside her toward that cotton-ball thing, which had sent her into this body, was very real.
“Why is my second life set to Hard Mode too? Would it kill you to put me in one of her brothers’ Very Easy difficulty bodies?!”
That was right.
Yeon Se-rang had two biological older brothers.
The eldest, Yeon Sae-byeok.
The second, Yeon Si-ho.
Both were strong contenders for Imperial’s succession, each running a label under the group.
Unlike Se-rang, they were competent and knew how to manage their public images.
She did not know what they were like behind closed doors, but from what she remembered as Kang I-won, they were not that strange.
Except—According to the report, Se-rang had terrible relationships with both of them.
Rivalry between Yeon Sae-byeok and Yeon Si-ho made sense. Succession battles and all. But Se-rang had never even cared about inheriting anything. So why were things so bad?
Reading further, it became clear.
Her brothers had completely ignored her. The type who polished their images outside while revealing their true colors at home.
“Looking at her phone messages… I can kind of see what she was like.”
There was one strange, deeply irritating fact.
Yeon Se-rang’s way of speaking was terrifyingly similar to Kang I-won’s.
No wonder Baek Do-gyeong sensed something was off but did not feel outright uncomfortable with her tone.
Damn it. I really didn’t want to be told I spoke like this lunatic.
Still, Se-rang found herself thinking.
Kang I-won had never been particularly gentle.
To survive the brutal entertainment industry as a woman, she had to be rougher than most men. Sharper, harder.
She had no choice.
If she showed weakness, her idols suffered with her.
So if Yeon Se-rang shared that same roughness—Maybe she, too, had spent her life fighting to protect herself in her own way.
“Or maybe she was just rotten from birth.”
Either way, it pissed her off.
“At least one thing’s good… I do have a title at Imperial.”
Still, compared to her brothers, each fully in charge of a label, she was very clearly sidelined.
Imperial had grown far beyond a simple idol management company.
Dozens of acquisitions. Countless subsidiaries.
And above all—The media business Chairman Yeon Kang-ho had always dreamed of was booming.
So much so that people now whispered that it was the real core of the group.
The founder himself had stepped away from management.
Instead, he let his grandchildren run the entertainment side, forcing them into a succession competition.
Now, you might wonder.
Where were Yeon Se-rang’s parents?
They had died in a plane crash when she was young.
“What is this, a chaebol makjang drama? A plane crash? If this were a novel, people would call it lazy writing.” Se-rang grumbled.
(Translator’s Note: Makjang drama — Korean term for an exaggerated, melodramatic story with extreme plot twists such as secret births, betrayals, revenge, or family tragedy.)
Anyway, in a family that functioned like a miniature battlefield, expecting warmth or affection was unrealistic.
“At least Chairman Yeon really does love his granddaughter.”
Covering up this level of chaos took genuine devotion.
At first, Se-rang had considered using that affection and asking him to give her a label.
But realistically?
Asking that of someone this disastrously unhinged would never work.
When it came to money and the company, Yeon Kang-ho was ruthless.
Loving his granddaughter and entrusting her with a business were entirely different matters.
So first—She had to prove that this executioner had reformed.
But how?
She had learned enough about Yeon Se-rang.
Now it was time to understand the situation itself.
Honestly… I just don’t get it.
She could accept being thrown into Yeon Se-rang’s body.
But why her?
Why not Yeon Sae-byeok, who was basically the next chairman already?
Why pick the family’s biggest disaster?
Se-rang hesitated, then messaged Secretary Cha.
[Has anyone named Kang I-won ever worked for our group?]
Understanding this world came first.
If Kang I-won had entered Yeon Se-rang’s body, then where was the real Kang I-won?
“Wait.” She froze. “…Don’t tell me Yeon Se-rang’s soul went into my body.”
Please.
Please don’t tell me something that horrific was happening.
Just then—
Ding!
[There is no record of an employee by that name.] Secretary Cha’s reply arrived.
“…I was never at Imperial?” She was genuinely shaken.
Seven years ago would have been after she left Imperial.
But she had worked there for six years.
Six.
And her position had been solid.
Surviving six years under Baek Do-gyeong was not something just anyone could do.
Every song she composed alone had Baek Do-gyeong’s name slapped on first.
Her own name always came second.
But internally, people knew.
They knew she had made them.
At this point, most Imperial artists had moved to labels.
But back when they were all under the main company?
There was not a single artist who had not used her songs.
At least half of them had worked directly under her.
And yet—No record of her employment?
“Then what happened to all my work?”
She searched her name.
Nothing but people with the same name.
“…?”
Where did my profile go? My portfolio?
Heart pounding, Se-rang searched for her biggest hit.
A song so famous people joked you were a spy if you did not know it.
But—
“…It doesn’t exist?”
Nothing.
As if it had never existed at all.
“Then… did another song replace it?”
Panicking, she searched for the artist she had given that song to.
She had produced their third album’s title track.
But—
“It’s a different song…”
Another composer.
Another track.
Completely replacing her place.
“Am I insane?”
All of her songs were gone?
She had released eighty songs to the world.
Ten more were finished, waiting to be released.
Ninety songs.
Where did they all go?
She slumped forward onto the desk, overwhelmed.
“Wait. If I don’t exist in this world…”
What about my artists?
My company?
Seven years ago was when she had just gathered all the members of her girl group, Ideal.
They were still trainees, which meant they would not show up online yet.
She was about to ask Secretary Cha to look them up, then stopped.
“If I suddenly start asking about trainees, it’ll look suspicious no matter who sees it.”
Especially to Secretary Cha, who knew Yeon Se-rang well.
Asking about one person might pass.
Asking about multiple unknown trainees?
Too strange.
She did not care if she looked suspicious. But if it caused trouble for those girls, she could not risk it.
“…Okay. Let’s move carefully. Very carefully.”
I’ve got time.
First, I need to build my footing inside Imperial.
And honestly—
It was better that her past work did not exist.
That meant every guaranteed hit was still in her hands.
She could release them whenever she needed.
That was an enormous weapon.
And she knew everything that would happen in this industry over the next seven years.
Another weapon.
Se-rang pulled a diary from her desk drawer, one that looked completely unused.
Let’s write everything down.
The next seven years.
And then—Use it all.
To take Imperial for herself.