Joon-ho leaned ba his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the polished wood of the fereable. The room had gone quiet after Park Yeon-jin ehe call, but the words of Seo Ji-an’s maill lingered in the air.

  Joon-ho exhaled sharply and turo his ptop. If there was ohing he had learned over the years, it was that people’s opinions were often shaped by inplete stories. And Seo Ji-an’s story—her fall from grace—was one he o uand fully.

  His fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard as he pulled up old articles, interview transcripts, aertai reports from the past few years. The headliold a tragic tale.

  "Sdal Brings Down Rising Star Seo Ji-an—A Career Cut Short""Betrayed by Her Own Team? Former Idol Disappears from Public Eye""Seo Ji-an’s Silence tinues—Industry Insiders Say She’s Done"

  Clig through, he skimmed the details. Ji-an had been a lead vocalist of Seraphine, a girl group on the verge of iional fame. She was the face of luxury campaigns, the darling of high fashion, and an artist with a voice that captivated audiences. Until it was gone.

  A sudden, unexpined loss of her voice had sparked rumors—some g she had faked it, others whispering about sabotage. But the real sdal had e from within her own group. Accusations of jealousy, backstabbing, and an alleged betrayal by her closest friend had turned public sympathy against her.

  Then, just as quickly as she had risen, she vanished.

  Joon-ho frowned as he clicked on a video link—an old interview from her peak. The Seo Ji-an on-s was different from the woman described in these reports. She oised, fident, and undeniably talented.

  "I just want to create music that people feel," she had said, smiling at the camera.

  But in his future memories, Seo Ji-an wasn’t just an idol who had once been famous—she was a star who shined even brighter after her return. She became a household name, not only for her music but as a model and actress who domihe luxury brand se.

  It would happen. The only question was… how?

  He closed his ptop, deep in thought.

  Seo Ji-an had lost everything. The question wasn’t just whether she had the talent to return.

  It was whether she still had the will to fight.

  And if she didn’t—could he be the o?

  Yoo Seul-bi stood in front of Joon-ho’s desk, her expression calm yet alert. The weight of her new position had settled in quickly—there was no grace period, no slow introdu. The moment she accepted the job, she was already expected to perform.

  Joon-ho leaned ba his chair, watg her. “Your first task,” he said, sliding a folder across the desk toward her. “Seo Ji-an.”

  Seul-bi flipped it open, sing the minimal tents. A handful of outdated reports, a few public statements from years ago, and a vague industry bcklist. Hardly enough to be useful.

  “I need everything on her—where she is now, how she’s living, whether she has any outstanding tracts or restris.” His fiapped against the desk rhythmically. “And do it quietly.”

  Seul-bi nodded. “Uood.”

  She didn’t ask why he wahis information. She didn’t o. A good secretary anticipated their boss’s needs without unnecessary questions.

  Two days ter, she returned with results.

  Joon-ho barely looked up from his ptop wheered his office, but when she pced a new, much thicker folder in front of him, his attention shifted.

  “I’ve piled everything avaible on Seo Ji-an,” she said smoothly. “Her st known location, financial records, past colborations, and any remaining industry ties.”

  He flipped open the file, sing through pages of ly anized information.

  “Where is she now?” he asked.

  “She’s been living in a private resideside Seoul, avoiding public appearances.” Seul-bi’s tone was ical, but there was a slight edge to it—as if she found the situation oddly intriguing. “No public records of employment, bank transas outside of basic living expenses. No social es, either, except for her old manager, who still checks in on her.”

  Joon-ho exhaled, his fiightening slightly around the folder. “And offers?”

  “Plenty. Brands, variety shows, even overseas agencies. All rejected.”

  That firmed what he already suspected—Ji-an wasn’t just waiting for the right opportunity. She had actively shut herself away from the industry.

  “She’s not under any tract?”

  “No legal ties. Her fency cut her loose entirely.” Seul-bi hesitated. “But… there’s something else.”

  Joon-ho’s gaze sharpened. “Go on.”

  “There was an attempt to get her bcklisted,” she said, pg another sheet in front of him. “Not officially, but certain panies were given ‘reendations’ to avoid w with her.”

  Joon-ho’s jaw ched. He had seen this before. Someone had wao ensure Seo Ji-an stayed buried.

  He closed the folder, nodding in approval. “Good work.”

  Seul-bi raised an eyebrow slightly. “That’s it?”

  He smirked. “Disappointed?”

  “Just making sure this job is as demanding as advertised,” she said coolly.

  Joon-ho chuckled. She was sharp, effit, and discreet—exactly what he needed.

  Se: Moonbucks Café – Private Louhe café was one of Joon-ho’s maures—Moonbucks, a high-end coffee catering to Seoul’s elite. The private lounge, hidden behind tinted gss a curtains, provided the perfect setting for discreet iations.

  Park Yeon-jin and Yoo Seul-bi sat across from Kang Ha-neul, Seo Ji-an’s former manager. Ha-neul, in her early thirties, was sharp-eyed and well-dressed, but there was a guarded wariness in her posture.

  “This is ued,” Ha-neul said, stirring her espresso. “I haven’t heard from you in years, Yeon-jin. And now, suddenly, you want to talk about Ji-an?”

  Yeon-jin smiled, a touch of nostalgia flickering in her expression. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I figured someone o finally bring Ji-an’s name bato the versation.”

  Ha-neul sighed. “You should know better than ahat she doesn’t want to be in any versation.”

  Seul-bi, who had been silently, finally spoke. “That’s exactly why we’re here. We’re not here to push her into the spotlight. We want to uand what it would take for her to even sider returning—on her own terms.”

  Ha-neul gave her a skeptical gnce. “And you are?”

  “Yoo Seul-bi, Special Secretary to Kang Joon-ho,” she replied smoothly.

  At the mention of his name, Ha-neul’s expression stiffened. “Kang Joon-ho?”

  Before she could ask more, the man himself walked in, deliberately making a te entrance.

  Dressed sharply in a tailored suit, Joon-ho carried himself with the effortless fidence of a chaebol heir. He greeted Ha-neul with a polite nod before sliding into the seat across from her.

  “Sorry for being te,” he said smoothly. “I wao hear from you directly.”

  Ha-neul’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know your reputation, Mr. Kang. Ji-aoo. I don’t think she’ll be ied in w for a pyboy chaebol.”

  Joon-ho chuckled, unfazed. “That’s fair. But I’m not her some cheap variety show or a desperate eback gimmick. I waalent. And I want to give her an opportunity to trol her return—not be used by the industry that abandoned her.”

  Ha-neul exhaled slowly. “You don’t uand. It’s not just about a job. Ji-a trust anyone in this industry anymore. She’s emotionally fragile, and she doesn’t even see a future iertai.”

  Joon-ho leaned forward slightly. “The’s give her one.”

  She frowned. “You make it sound simple.”

  “It’s not,” he admitted. “Which is why I’m not asking for an aoday. I just want ohing—an opportunity to meet her. Privately, discreetly. No pressure, no itments. Just a versation.”

  Ha-neul hesitated, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. She wasn’t pletely against the idea, but she also wasn’t vinced.

  “What’s in it for her?” she finally asked.

  “A choice,” Joon-ho said. “Ohat isn’t dictated by sdal, betrayal, or fear.”

  The words hung in the air.

  Ha-neul sighed. “I’ll ask her. But don’t expect a miracle.”

  Joon-ho smirked. “I never do.”

  Se: Seo Ji-an apartmentKang Ha-neul sat across from Seo Ji-an in the dimly lit apartment, her expression unreadable. Ji-an, ed in an oversized sweater, sat curled up on the couch, clutg a steaming cup of tea. The curtains were drawn, shielding her from the outside world—a world she had once owned but now feared.

  “So, they want to meet me?” Ji-an’s voice was quiet, ced with skepticism.

  Ha-neul nodded. “Joon-ho proposed a private meeting. No cameras, no pressure. Just a versation.”

  Ji-a out a bitter ugh. “Kang Joon-ho? The chaebol pyboy? What could he possibly want from me?”

  “I don’t know much about him,” Ha-neul admitted. “But Yeon-jin trusts him. And she believes this opportunity isn’t just about using you as some eback project.”

  Ji-an’s grip tightened around her cup. Trust. That word had lost all meaning to her. The st time she trusted someo had cost her everything—her career, her voice, her dreams.

  “You know how this industry works,” Ji-an muttered. “Even after I lost my voice, ageill reached out, but not for my talent. They just wanted my face, my body.”

  Her stomach twisted at the memories—those insincere offers, the way they expected her to ‘eain’ iors, as if she were nothing more than a product to be sold.

  Ha-neul’s jaw ched. “I know. That’s why I never pushed you.”

  Sileretched between them. Ji-an stared into her tea, her refle rippling in the amber liquid.

  “Do I even have a p the industry anymore?” she murmured. “Without my voice, what am I?”

  Ha-neul sighed. “That’s something only you decide.”

  Ji-an exhaled shakily. She had vinced herself that she was fine living in seclusion, that she had accepted her fate. But now, that long-buried spark—the ohat once drove her to stand uhe brightest lights—flickered again, refusing to die out pletely.

  Could she really step bato that world? And if she did… would she survive it this time?

  For the first time in years, she wasn’t sure.

  Se: IMFG OfficeJoon-ho, Park Yeon-jin, and Yoo Seul-bi return to the office after their meeting with Kang Ha-neul. The atmosphere is tense—Ji-an hasn’t refused ht, but she also hasn’t agreed.

  Park Yeon-jin crosses her arms and leans against the desk.“Alright, CEO Kang. How exactly do you pn to vince Seo Ji-an?”

  Joon-ho exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose.“I don’t know.”

  Silence.

  Yeon-jin blinks. Yoo Seul-bi, who had just opened her ptop, slowly turns her head toward him.

  “…Excuse me?” Yeon-jin asks.

  Seul-bi closes her ptop with a dramatiap.“If that’s your level of pnning, I’d like to formally request to withdraw my employment.”

  Joon-ho rolls his eyes. “You haven’t even sighe tract.”

  “Exactly! I’d like to withdraw my sideration.”

  Yeon-jin pihe bridge of her nose. “Are you serious, Joon-ho? We’ve done all this work to approach her, and now you don’t even have a strategy?”

  Joon-ho finally leans ba his chair, tilting his head as if weighing his words.“It’s not about f her. If we push too hard, she’ll run. If we act like everyone else in this industry, she’ll reject us on instinct.”

  Seul-bi raises an eyebrow. “So what, we just sit bad hope she suddenly feels inspired?”

  Joon-ho smirks. “No. We remind her of three things—who she was, what she lost, and what she could still have.”

  Step 1: Emotional Appeal — Rebuilding TrustJoon-ho turns to Yeon-jin.“You’re the key here. She doesn’t trust agencies, but she trusted you back when you were both in the industry. If we keep the versation open—not about tracts, but about her—she might start listening.”

  Yeon-jin nods slowly. “So you wao just… be her friend?”

  Joon-hs. “More like the only person who reminds her that she’s more than just a fallen idol.”

  Step 2: Personal Revenge — Reg What Was StolenJoon-ho’s expression darkens slightly.“Do you know what her froup is doing now?”

  Seul-bi pulls up a quick sear her tablet. “One of them is still in the industry, aarted a beauty brand, and her ex-best friend—” Seul-bi pauses, eyes widening. “Oh. She’s a judge on a new idol survival show.”

  Yeon-jin scoffs. “You’re kidding. The same woman who betrayed Ji-an?”

  Joon-ho leans forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Exactly. While Ji-an was forced into hiding, the people who destroyed her career kept climbing higher.”

  A beat of silence.

  Yeon-jin exhales. “…If she khat, she’d have every reason to e back.”

  Joon-ho nods. “Not out of hatred. But because the best revenge isn’t tearing someone down—it’s proving they never had the power to destroy you in the first pce.”

  Step 3: Safe Haven — ProteSeul-bi hums. “Alright, so let’s say she gets fired up and wants to return. She still won’t trust an agency. She was already treated like a produce, what makes you think she’ll believe we’re different?”

  Joon-ho’s gaze sharpens. “Because I won’t be her agency. I’ll be her partner.”

  Yeon-jin raises a brow. “And what does that mean?”

  Joon-ho smiles faintly. “It means she gets trol. She decides the terms, the projects, the pace. IMFG won’t be managing her—we’ll be proteg her. She won’t have to deal with sleazy iors or industry politics. If she wants to perform, she performs. If she wants to model, she models. If she wants to disappear for months, she .”

  Seul-bi tilts her head. “…That’s a dangerous amount of freedom for a celebrity.”

  “Which is why no agency ever offered it to her.” Joon-hs. “But I don’t o ‘own’ Seo Ji-an. I just o remihat she still owns herself.”

  Yeon-jin exhales. “So… the pn is to make her feel safe, make her feel powerful, a her decide on her own.”

  Joon-ho leans back, satisfied. “Exactly.”

  Seul-bi folds her arms, shaking her head with a scoff. “You know, for a sed there, I really thought you were an idiot.”

  Joon-ho smirks. “You still do.”

  “Obviously.”

  Yeon-jin sighs, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Alright the’s give Seo Ji-an a reason to rise again.”

  apmoneysense