Skill Power Hooks Oh Minseo (Jessica)
Oh Minseo—stage name Jessica—36 years old. The genius rides pure skill to snag her: Korea's first singer to crack the Billboard charts, now a BOZ executive director. Countless junior idols and trainees name her their top role model, and right now she's chugging energy drinks at the convenience store near the company.
"Kkuuuh…"
Her head spins from last night's booze—didn't even like drinking, but she'd slammed over ten bottles of whiskey till dawn, burning herself out completely. All because of their company president-unnie and that KM exec bitch.
"If this doesn't pan out, I'm ripping their cunts wide open for real."
KM, one of Korea's major entertainment agencies. As the name suggests, it's the massive label launched by the KM Group when they dove into artist management. Unusually, KM's roster is packed with actors—male actors, no less. Rumor has it no movie gets made without KM's blessing; they've got Chungmuro locked down tight, every big-name actor on their books.
That's why Oh Minseo had met with the president-unnie and the KM folks. The upcoming film The King, helmed by Choi Si-jeong—the dual-threat director with a 20-million-admission guarantee. Agencies everywhere were scheming for a slot. BOZ was in the mix too.
They had actors like Kim Ji-woo, Jo Seon-yeong, Choi Yunji, Yu Jeong-hye—but honestly? No one with killer looks or buzzworthy acting chops. A- at best, maybe B+? So they teamed up with KM. All the famous guys were over there anyway—slip our girls in with them. KM had no big actresses, so pitching was easy. Didn't even have to be their actors. Hell, idols would be better—broaden their activities into acting. Perfect fit.
"Should've locked that kid down for good…"
What was his name? Jimin? Insanely handsome trainee. Even she, an executive director, had turned into a blubbering mess around him. But that face drove him out of the industry. Too many people hounding him just for existing. She'd begged with the president-unnie, but he wouldn't budge. Gave up.
"If we had him…"
Screw acting skills. His face alone would've pulled ten million viewers.
"Ugh… Need another one."
She fished another pre-bought energy drink from her small handbag. Lucky she'd grabbed the 2+1 deal—three in total.
"Sigh."
The cost of sacrificing her body for her kids' futures was steep. Fine in your twenties, but past thirty? Liver ain't what it used to be. Worst part: despite shaving years off her life, no firm yes yet.
Fucking sky-high egos. How long they think they'll stay on top?
Hated their dragging responses, and the snide digs at her girls.
BOZ's eternal rival Galaxy's flagship girl group, LunaTic—they'd dragged them up to grate her nerves. Fair point, though. Ask anyone to rank girl groups, eighty out of a hundred say LunaTic number one.
"But our girls are solid too."
Foxy and Eighty both had chart-topping name recognition. Sure, lagged behind LunaTic a bit. Not skill issue. Their songs just hit harder. Somehow scooped up killer producers—lucky bitches.
We need fresh concepts and bangers too…
Both cost a fortune in cash and time. Bigger issue: good songs.
"Good morning, Director."
"Yep."
She waved at the bowing security guard and headed to the practice rooms. Figured she'd peek at Foxy or Eighty girls if they were around. Sweeping the rooms, a strange song hooked her ears.
"…What?"
Unfamiliar beat tilted her head, but she kept walking—pretty damn good, though? Feet wouldn't move. She ran through the in-house producers in her mind. Didn't feel like any of theirs. Style was worlds apart. Listened straight through in silence. Then blinked in shock.
"What the—this?"
She'd been humming the chorus without realizing. Catchy yet simple—perfect for crowds to belt along.
"That song…!"
She flung open the practice room door. Locked eyes with two girls.
"Uh…"
"Ah, hello!"
"Hello!"
BOZ's throbbing—throbbing—wound, Shine Candy's two members shot to their feet.
* * *
"So… that's how you got the demo?"
Oh Minseo felt punched after their full explanation. Didn't quite compute.
A song that good? Just handed over? Makes no sense.
Anyway, killer track—meant for Foxy or Eighty, but turns out it was Shine Candy, the group the company had basically trashed, clinging to it like grim death. A potential smash at that.
"Yes, yes."
Minseo looked down at Shine Candy leader Kim Nayun nodding frantically.
"Right, uh… got it."
Regret stung. Personal ties to a composer made snagging it tricky. Rookie too, not established. Obvious prodigy—future star. Better build bridges now, just in case.
Scrubbed the idea of giving it elsewhere. Plus…
"…"
The emotion in their eyes was clear. They knew. How good this song was. Fear of losing it flickered in their gazes.
Sigh. Poor things. Shine Candy… when was their last activity?
Minseo racked her brain. Nothing. Debut digital single, then…
Gone?
Quick phone search confirmed: zilch.
"…"
Picture formed. Test single to gauge public—flopped hard. Should've repped them with new concept, grind practice for next. But Foxy's team-two debut exploded, sucking all attention. Then Eighty's success buried Shine Candy. Revive them? Nah—smarter to pump Foxy, Eighty, or promising trainees.
But still…
Company's first girl group—not fully cut loose.
Should've axed them clean if cutting…
Couldn't. Time dragged; girls got fed up, hunted their own song.
How desperate must they have been?
Dozens of A&R producers on payroll… Sudden pity welled, eyes misting. She'd been an idol—knew no-name struggles.
"Hmm…"
Thoughts sorted: decent song, worth a push. Already a sore spot; might as well. President-unnie hadn't disbanded them—cared enough. Just no path till now.
Arms crossed, Minseo's gaze hit the girls. They flinched instinctively—then she spoke.
"I'd like to meet that composer myself."
To greenlight Shine Candy, needed the song locked. Without it, revival was hopeless.
* * *
Response already?
After sending Jeong Hye-ryeong home, he showered and organized thoughts. System-rated A song. Game experience said domestic hit—top 10 chart at worst. Even sung by flop Shine Candy.
Didn't expect agency bite this fast, though. Prep and launch a group? Massive cash sink. Never easy.
Hurt like hell building my own agency back then.
Veteran managers never recommend it to newbies. 80% bankruptcy in year one. Seen plenty whale out, shatter mentally, quit.
Anyway, jackpot for me.
Needed Shine Candy alive for IP Shop. Or just seeing devoted Kim Nayun thrive. Girl was all-in; wanted to reward her. Cute too.
How's my producing stack?
Checked skills after ages. Instrument Mastery, Keen Sense, Charisma—most S to A. Cleared rewards plus spends paid off. Solid S- average. World-class. Plenty for Shine Candy.
Company'll push someone else, bet.
Good song from no-name composer? Won't hand me flop revival. Outsider too. Still, had to be him. Best skills. If they tanked quest? Fine if his hands failed it—not someone else's. Couldn't stomach that.
Game would've skipped the worry…
Reality bit harder. Prove with skill power. Next day, hit BOZ building. Mask and cap pulled low to dodge hassle.
"Who're you?"
"Composer meeting Shine Candy about their song today."
"…Ah. Sixth floor."
Grandpa security—BOZ legend among fans—nodded, handed keycard. Prepped.
"Temp cardkey. Tap for sixth-floor meeting room."
"Thanks."
Nodded, headed up. Physique shone through disguise—sneaky glances everywhere. Sixth floor, ditched cap. First meet, manners mattered.
Peeked through window slit: tense Kim Nayun. Others her members? Three total. Opposite: black-suited career woman.
"Oh…"
Stunner. Agencies hire staff for looks? Headache spiked—name, face flashed: Jessica. Real name Oh Minseo. BOZ's former ace soloist, etched in Korean entertainment history. Now exec building her empire, envy of many.
Issue: back when he was trainee…
Abused power for harassment multiple times. Talented, skilled, sassy—all good, but man-eater flaw. Grabby hands; chewed out by boss often. Memory: at least four male trainees quit over her.
Whatever, not my circus.
Harassment? From her? Bring it. Riper than Hye-ryeong, mature flavor. Man takes what's offering. Picky? Nah—impossible.
Me picky?
Only uggos. Bratty, crazy—fine if pretty. Even if she'd groped his 16-year-old body.
No hesitation. Knocked, opened the meeting room door.