The Eve of the Storm (5)

Ah.

Relief spread through me, and the body that had locked rigid went slack all at once.

"I'd just seen the article go up and was sitting here thinking we were finished."

"The analysis came back a little while ago. The timing was razor-thin. The story broke way faster than we expected, and everyone upstairs was in a full meltdown. If those results had landed even a little later, I'd have spent the whole night with a phone glued to my ear, fighting reporters."

"So this is settled now? Completely?"

"That's right. The photos were proven to be doctored. What reporter is going to believe their side and take up for them after that?"

He wasn't wrong.

A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. Pure Star had walked straight into their own trap. If they had gone through with the backroom deal as planned and leaked it to the press, then no matter how hard W&U announced that the photos were fake and tried to explain, the public and the reporters alike would have doubted the truth. Now it was the opposite. The deal had fallen through, and the fabrication had been exposed.

Even if Pure Star Entertainment went around claiming Sung Do-won had attended a sex party, and that a married woman really had been there, people would start from suspicion. And a rumor with nothing credible behind it could be buried the same way ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as any other piece of vicious gossip.

I wondered what kind of faces they were wearing over at Pure Star right now.

Oh. Right.

"Team Leader. What happened with the Pure Star problem?"

"The CEO and Do-won said they'd look into that... Still quiet, though."

"Ah."

"Anyway, today's business is going to pass as nothing more than a little happening. Do-won did attend that kind of party, so if we poke it the wrong way and blow the story up, there's nothing in it for us either."

I was nodding when a thought cut across.

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠know a reporter. Would it be all right if I passed this along?"

"Hm?"

"They might be writing a piece on Sung Do-won right now. They're still a trainee."

In the future, Bureau Chief Park had said as much—that she had written a Sung Do-won article and been buried under protest calls from his fans. The situation hadn't spiraled that far, so there was a good chance she hadn't written anything yet, but I still wanted her to hear it first. If it hadn't been for what Bureau Chief Park told me, none of this would have worked out so cleanly. She was as good as the one who deserved first credit.

Not that she had the faintest idea.

"Go ahead. They'll see the press release soon enough, but it's better to tell a reporter you're close with yourself. A trainee, you said?"

"Yes."

"Both of you, still green. Get her on your side. If you're going to stay in this line of work, you need at least one entertainment reporter you can actually trust."

I had saved Reporter Park Woo-jung's number the day I got her card. I had almost filed her as Bureau Chief Park, then decided that would raise questions, so I left it under her name.

The ringtone cut off, and a tired voice came through.

"Reporter Park Woo-jung?"

"This is Jung Sunwoo. Neptune's manager. We met the other day."

"You didn't quit reporting, did you?"

I asked because I remembered her saying she was going to walk away from the job, but no answer came. So she hadn't quit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after all.

"Then I'll start with the point. I called because I was worried you might be writing an article on Sung Do-won."

No answer again. Only a flustered breath came down the line.

Wait. She really was writing it?

"Reporter. Don't write that."

"The Sung Do-won article. If you've already finished it, don't run it."

"The evidence photos one outlet supposedly has. Those are doctored. And of course there was no deal."

"We had experts analyze the photos, and the results just came in. A press release is going out right away too. The articles already up online are all coming down. If you publish the wrong piece, you could get sued."

"Yes. It might already have gone out by now."

There was a burst of hurried movement, and then Reporter Park Woo-jung's urgent voice broke through.

"An exclusive?"

Would that be all right? Other outlets would be running pieces soon enough anyway.

I looked over at Team Leader Park. He must have caught her voice, because he nodded.

"Tell her not to go so far as using your name. Have her say a source at the agency. That way you'll have something to hide behind. We've got reporters we're close with, too, and if an exclusive with an interview in it shows up somewhere else, they'll all start grumbling."

I nodded and spoke to Reporter Park Woo-jung.

"My name can't be out there, so please attribute it to a source at the agency, and write that the incident wrapped up as nothing more than a happening. It isn't good news, and we don't want to feed the story."

Click. The line went dead.

She was probably hammering the article out in a frenzy. Now that the call was over, it finally sank in that everything had ended well.

I leaned on the desk and let out a sigh, and Team Leader Park gave a short laugh.

"I've said my thanks, so I'd better head back up and deal with the reporters again. Once they see the press release, the phones are going to explode. Oh—and don't clock out right away. Wait a little longer."

He pointed a finger upward.

"They might call you back up. This really would have been a disaster if it weren't for you. All I can offer is a thank-you, but upstairs there ought to be something better waiting. Look forward to it."

He left a meaningful smile behind and went back upstairs.

Something better...

I was lost in the thoughts churning through my head when I hit refresh. The PR team must have been working hard; the articles I had seen were gone.

A moment later, a piece went up from G-Today, where Reporter Park Woo-jung worked.

W&U's press release must already have blanketed the outlets. Not even a few dozen seconds after that article appeared, three more pieces went up wearing exclusive tags—and soon the exclusive label vanished from every one of them except Reporter Park Woo-jung's. It really had been by a hair.

Reading her piece, I could tell she had written and posted it in a rush. It was only a few lines, but everything that needed to be there was there. One outlet had nearly inflated the controversy with a story that was never confirmed, when in fact it was nothing more than a happening caused by doctored photos. W&U had commissioned three experts to analyze them and brought the truth to light. And the claim that a huge sum had changed hands in a backroom deal was entirely groundless.

I had a line in there too, under the name of a source at the agency.

At the very bottom—perhaps drawn from the press release—W&U's official position had been added as well.

When I refreshed the portal again, articles about the happening involving Top Star A were sprouting everywhere, already more than a page of them. Reactions from netizens were coming in one after another across social media and the entertainment communities.

"It's really over."

It felt as if one enormous storm had torn through and passed. Not the kind that scorched everything in its path—a welcome storm, one that left something in my hands.

I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling.

Something better... What would that be?

The first thing that surfaced was, of course, what Sung Do-won had said in the future that came through on a bad connection. The part where he had asked me to be his manager.

Things had worked out, but what came after? This seemed like enough for him to call me a benefactor. Did that mean the glitching future I had seen could become my present now?

Me, as Sung Do-won's manager?

"Hmm..."

I raked a rough hand through my hair.

Not long ago I had been sure that if Sung Do-won asked me to be his manager, I would say yes on the spot. He was the top actor I had dreamed of, and a girl-group manager's schedule had been brutal enough as it was. But now that the thing might actually be upon me, my mind wouldn't settle.

Because of Neptune.

If I accepted Sung Do-won's offer as things stood, would that mean parting from the Neptune kids? We would still be at the same company, so I could see them and talk whenever I wanted. But changing who was in charge meant they would be leaving my hands, one way or another. Their climbing to number one on the music shows and steadily stacking up recognition; getting Lee Songha into the audition for Cat Guardian Spirit and landing her the simultaneous-interpreter role; laying the groundwork so she could walk an actor's path in earnest—all of that would no longer be my work. It would be the traitor's. Choi Geon-young's.

That was... not great. Really not great.

So what was the right move?

According to Team Leader Park, the people upstairs seemed ready to give me something. When they did, maybe I should ask to be put in charge of Neptune and Sung Do-won both. One manager covering several artists was common enough, so it seemed possible. Sung Do-won already had another manager anyway, and Neptune had Kim Hyunjo. The traitor was there too, not that I could trust him.

All right. That's what I'd do.

While I was asking, I would settle the Lee Songha problem as well. There was definitely something off about that lesson teacher. That had to be handled first. And once Lee Songha shook the trauma off and was ready to step into acting, I would ask them to give her a push so she could audition.

I would need to talk that over with Kim Hyunjo first, though.

They had said Cat Guardian Spirit ran into trouble with casting, and that the production had even contacted W&U's PR team about it, so getting Lee Songha into an audition didn't look difficult. What mattered was making sure she actually landed the role once she was there.

Brrt.

I was spinning the thoughts out one after another when my phone buzzed. The caller was Kim Hyunjo.

"Chief?"

"Yes. I'm in the office."

What was this?

I stepped out, head tilted, and saw the elevator coming up from the basement. Kim Hyunjo? Why from down there? Don't tell me the Neptune kids were still in the practice room.

The elevator soon reached the fourth floor and opened. Inside was Kim Hyunjo, looking a little worked up. Before I could get a word out, he caught my arm and pulled me in, then hit the button for the sixth floor.

"The CEO wants to see you."

"Ah."

Kim Hyunjo looked at me with a peculiar expression.

"From the articles, those evidence photos really do seem to be fakes. So you did have something you were banking on. I thought you'd just charged in on new-hire guts. Had you down as completely out of your mind."

"I did tell you I was fairly certain."

"Yeah? Then why didn't you stake your wrist on it back there?"

No. That was still a bit much.

"Hey, you know what happened with that Pure Star thing? If that one lines up too, then you've really got something."

"I don't know about that yet."

I was almost a hundred percent sure, though.

The doors slid open.

On the sixth floor, Sung Do-won's manager was pacing alone, in the exact spot where he had stood earlier with his head bowed like a guilty man. Once at the phone in his hand, once at the firmly shut door of the CEO's office—he had been looking back and forth when he spotted us. The look he gave me stiffened for an instant. Something complicated and unreadable passed over it.

A short bow.

Greetings were exchanged, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but they didn't turn into conversation. Sung Do-won's manager went back to staring at his phone. I took my eyes off him and set my hand on the handle of the CEO's office door.