The Scandal-Proof Producer

The hotel bar was a capsule of expensive, anonymous quiet. Tucked away in a corner of a five-star hotel in a business district, it was a place designed for discreet conversations and high-stakes deals, the air thick with the scent of aged whiskey and unspoken secrets. Yoo-jin had booked a small, private room in the back, a soundproofed space with two leather armchairs and a low table, ensuring absolute privacy.

He didn't have to wait long. Kim Jin-hyuk arrived looking like a man reborn. The ever-present tension he used to carry in his shoulders as the leader of Eclipse was gone, replaced by a new, lighter confidence. The fall of Chairman Choi had been a liberation, and his group was now under the management of a far more lenient subsidiary of Stellar Entertainment. For the first time in years, he felt a flicker of hope for his future.

"CEO Han," Jin said, a genuine, easy smile on his face as he entered the room. "It's good to see you. I owe you more than I can say." He sat down, looking relaxed and optimistic. "Things are… better. We're actually getting to have some input on our next album."

Yoo-jin felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was about to shatter this newfound peace. He decided that a slow, gentle approach would be a crueler form of torture than a quick, clean cut. He had to rip the bandage off.

"I'm glad to hear that, Jin," Yoo-jin said, his voice grave. "But that's not why I asked you here. There's something you need to hear."

He didn't waste any more time. He took out a secure, encrypted tablet, one that had no connection to the internet, and placed it on the table between them. He hit play.

The raw, beautiful sound of one of Jin's secret demos filled the small room. It was one of his most personal songs, a heartbreaking ballad about feeling like a stranger in his own skin.

Jin's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of shocked, defensive fury. He shot to his feet. "Where did you get that?" he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper. His mind immediately went to the worst conclusion: that Yoo-jin, his supposed ally, had somehow been spying on him, collecting blackmail material. "Is this what our 'alliance' was about? Digging up my private work?"

Yoo-jin held up a hand, his expression calm. "Sit down, Jin. This is not what you think. I didn't spy on you. That file came from a source inside OmniCorp."

The name of the shadowy conglomerate meant nothing to Jin, but the word "source" made him pause. He slowly sat back down, his body rigid with suspicion.

Then, Yoo-jin hit play on the second file. The track for "Kai."

The slick, perfectly produced pop music began, and Jin's expression was one of simple confusion. But then the voice came in. The AI-generated, synthesized ghost of his own voice.

He listened. The confusion on his face morphed into a dawning, sickening horror. It was like seeing a reflection of himself in a twisted, funhouse mirror. He heard his own unique vocal habits—the way he feathered the end of a high note, the slight, breathy crack he used for emotional emphasis, the specific timbre of his falsetto. It was all there, but stripped of all its humanity, all its flaws, all its soul. It was his voice, worn like a suit by a perfect, empty machine, singing melodies that were a bastardized, simplified echo of his own secret compositions.

The song ended, leaving a profound, horrifying silence in its wake.

Jin just stared at the tablet, his face ashen. He looked as though he had just witnessed his own autopsy. The rage, when it came, was not a slow burn but a volcanic eruption.

"What was that?" he snarled, his voice a low, guttural sound of pure violation. He was shaking, a tremor running through his entire body. "That… that was me. That was my voice. My song. Who did this? Who took it?" He lashed out, the closest target being the man who had shown him the monster. "Did you know about this? How long have you known? Were you going to use this against me, too?"

This was the critical moment. The test. Yoo-jin didn't get defensive. He didn't argue. He simply sat there, absorbing the full force of a fellow artist's righteous fury, a fury he himself shared. He activated his Producer's Eye, not to find a weakness, but to understand the shape of the pain.

[Target: Kim Jin-hyuk (Jin)]

[Emotional State: Rage (95%), Betrayal (90%), Grief (85%), Powerlessness (80%)]

[Live Thought Analysis]:

…they took it. They gutted me. They took the only part of me that was real, the only thing I made for myself…

…I have nothing left. My own voice isn't even mine anymore…

…how can I fight a monster like that? A giant corporation? I'm trapped. There's nothing I can do…

Yoo-jin saw it clearly. The rage was a shield. Beneath it was the profound grief of an artist who had his soul stolen, and beneath that, the crushing, paralyzing feeling of complete and utter powerlessness.

He waited until Jin's explosive anger had burned itself out, leaving him slumped in his chair, exhausted and broken, staring into space. Only then did Yoo-jin speak, his voice filled not with strategy, but with brutal, empathetic honesty.

"I can't give you your voice back, Jin," he said quietly. "They've already taken it. It's out there. But I can give you something else. A chance to fight back. A chance to reclaim your own story and make sure the entire world knows who the real Kim Jin-hyuk is."

Jin looked up, his eyes hollow but now holding a flicker of something new. A desperate, dangerous curiosity.

Yoo-jin leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "You have a choice. You can continue with Eclipse, trying to find your artistic freedom under a new corporate master, and watch from the sidelines as a machine becomes a global superstar singing with your voice. You can be a ghost for the rest of your life."

He paused, letting the bleakness of that future sink in.

"Or," he continued, "you can join us. Come to Aura. Not as a double agent, not as an informant, but as an artist. As a fighter. We have the proof. We have the beginnings of a plan. We will fight them together. And when we are done, everyone on this planet will know that 'Kai' is nothing but a cheap copy, and that you are the original."

He was offering not just a record deal, but a war. A crusade. A path to redemption.

For Jin, a man who had just had his artistic essence stolen, leaving him feeling hollowed out and powerless, there was no choice at all. The path of quiet despair was a slow death. The path Yoo-jin offered was a chance at rebirth, forged in fire.

"What do you need me to do?" Jin asked, his voice no longer loud with rage, but quiet, cold, and filled with a terrifying new purpose.

The grief was still there, but the powerlessness was gone, replaced by the steely resolve of a man who had absolutely nothing left to lose. And Yoo-jin knew, in that moment, that he had just recruited his most powerful, and most dangerously unpredictable, soldier for the war to come.