IJLMT 55

Chapter 55

‘Afraid? Me?’

Akita Shinichi, the CEO of Kamisumire, opened the file JM had brought. His insides churned. His chest burned. Across from him, Lee Jongmuk and Yoo Hyun-jae watched his reaction.

‘Trying to stir up my emotions… Sure, that’s a new strategy. They must think normal methods won’t work, so they pulled this card. They think I’ll just fall for it that easily?’

He felt humiliated. It reminded him of when he was a child, being relentlessly teased by a friend who enjoyed picking on people. If he refused to look at the materials they brought now, he’d feel like “the coward who didn’t look because he was scared.”

Normally, such a level of insult was nothing to him. But this… this felt different. Especially because of the name Amatsuki Reina.

‘I’ll just check it quickly and send them off. It’s profitability data—there’s always something to counter with.’

That was what he thought, as he opened the file—

“What is this?”

Akita frowned. Whenever a company requested a meeting with Kamisumire, they always started with statistics or news articles. You had to prove profitability if you wanted to collaborate.

But the file prepared by this “Team Leader Yoo Hyun-jae” began with… a photo. A picture of four girls hugging each other, crying.

“This is a photo of the members of Novagirls crying because their digital performance exceeded expectations.”
“…What?”
“What do you think it means? When their song charts were scraping the bottom, they smiled. At least in front of each other. But when they did well, they held each other and sobbed. What kind of feelings do you think that is?”
“…This doesn’t feel relevant.”

“What kind of feelings”—that was obvious. When times were bad, crying would only weigh the others down. When they succeeded, the emotions they’d held back finally burst.

“What matters is the market indicators.”

With that, Akita turned the page. Finally, there were statistics: dramatic rises in chart rankings, explosive recognition, overflowing media and SNS mentions, a rapidly growing fanbase. On numbers alone, it made him think, ‘Isn’t it obvious we should sign them?’

But idol careers are unpredictable. Truly unpredictable. For example, about five years ago, a Korean boy group, Extreme Kids, succeeded in Korea and debuted in Japan, but strangely lost popularity within a month. Then when they returned to Korea, their popularity was already gone. They disbanded soon after.

Why did Extreme Kids flop? Nobody knows. People suggested reasons—songs didn’t fit public taste, they were bland, too many similar groups—but no one knew the real answer.

Because of this unpredictability, Akita could reject any proposal from any company. All he had to do was ask, “What will you do if variables like this occur?”

Thinking that, he flipped the page—

“…Why do irrelevant photos keep showing up?”

This time it was a picture of a Novagirls member hugging a crying fan. The fan was holding a letter.

“This is part of our material explaining the charm of Novagirls. It isn’t irrelevant. Mina is crying because a fan who failed her exam told her she gained courage thanks to her. Do you know why she cried?”
“Well, that’s…”

Probably because she was moved that she could give someone courage. And also grateful the fan acknowledged that.

“Why do you keep inserting these pictures?”
“Isn’t a report filled only with text and numbers boring? You can skip through them quickly if you like.”

To Akita, this sounded like, “You mad, bro?” As if the person was saying, “What, these photos stir your emotions or something?”

“…Fine. I’ll do that.”

Akita scowled and turned the page. More statistics. What Japanese audiences expect from idols, what they expect from K-pop idols, and how Novagirls fits those expectations—all laid out logically.

On content alone, it was a highly polished report. Then he turned the page—

“What… Why is this here?”

It was a stage photo of “New World Girls,” the idol unit Kamisumire had launched 12 years ago, led by Amatsuki Reina. From the side of the stage, a man watched them with a warm expression. That man was—

“This has nothing to do with Novagirls.”
“But it relates to our work. From the staging and production of this performance, we realized how much care Kamisumire puts into its stages. For example—”

Yoo Hyun-jae continued.

‘No, no. This guy’s goal isn’t that. He knows who I am. Who told him? Did he meet my parents?’

Akita realized it. Yoo Hyun-jae was saying this:

“Profitability? Volatility? That’s not all you think about. You’re actually someone who gets deeply attached and easily scared. That’s why you are like this, isn’t it?”

He had risen from a small-company manager to CEO of a major corporation. When he was a low-level manager, he got attached to his artists, rejoiced or suffered based on their success or failure. It was manageable then. In fact, it made him good at his job.

But the higher he climbed, the more artists he oversaw. If he stayed that emotionally attached, life became unbearable. He’d vomit after meals, lie awake at night.

When New World Girls disbanded after Reina retired due to injury, he felt like his insides were being ripped apart. As far as he knew, Reina’s injury came from her passion—she pushed herself too hard in rehearsals trying to perfect the performance the company wanted.

—I’m sorry. I caused trouble because I got carried away.

Reina said that, but Akita was terrified.

What are idols? They are creations of a company. Singers have songs they want to sing. Actors have roles they want to play. Companies influence that, but not to the degree idols endure.

—You girls will rise. You’ll definitely make it. I promise. Don’t worry about anything.

How he regretted saying that. He felt like their trust and passion had caused the accident.

Idols don’t choose their concept, group members, or songs. The company decides all that. If someone got hurt trying to fulfill the company’s concept, wasn’t that the company’s fault? The idea that a company could control their entire lives… was terrifying.

So he created an emotionless company. “We see you with cold eyes. Do what you want—prove you’re good, and we’ll let you. But that’s your choice.”

“If it hadn’t been for the paint issue, that group would have been a hit. It’s unfortunate.”
“We don’t need to— Wait. What did you say? Paint?”

Akita blinked. What? Paint? He had never heard that. He had asked the venue repeatedly about the cause of the accident, but they insisted they weren’t at fault. The conclusion was “the members’ physical exhaustion from excessive practice.”

“The manager in charge of ordering materials cut costs. They should’ve ordered the high-friction AcriShield 2100 paint, but they ordered AcriSlid 2100, which looks similar but has much weaker anti-slip properties. With the flat-soled shoes the members wore, the accident was inevitable.”

Yoo handed him documents—M Square’s procurement records.

“When did you get this?”
“We stopped by on the way. The responsible manager is listed, so you can sue if you want.”
“And they just told you this?”
“The venue ownership changed. The new owners didn’t know anything. They dug through records and found it. The accident wasn’t Kamisumire’s fault or the members’ fault. It was the venue.”

“Wait, wait… hold on.”

Akita rubbed his forehead. How had Yoo figured out something even the venue didn’t know? Did he just read old news and randomly guess paint? What was happening? Wasn’t this supposed to be an idol business meeting?

His eyes kept returning to the procurement report.

‘So it wasn’t our fault?’

Reina and the other five members were all good kids. Just like Novagirls. They never complained in front of each other, hugged and cried when something good happened, worked desperately to repay trust and support.

‘And all of that collapsed because some bastard tried to save a few bucks on paint?’

The trust they’d given, the passion they showed—it wasn’t the problem. The problem was the paint. Why was he only learning this now?

Everything in his head evaporated. All he could think now was that he wanted to track down the person responsible and beat them senseless.

“Amatsuki-san runs a cafe now. She said her idol experience still means a lot to her. The confidence that she’s someone worthy of love is still a driving force in her life. She’s deeply grateful to you.”
“And when did you—”
“How about giving that experience another try?”

To Akita Shinichi, Yoo Hyun-jae looked like a devil. And an angel.

How had he known the anxieties Akita hid deep inside? He had never even told his parents how that accident burdened him. He lived pretending to be a cold businessman chasing only profits.

Yet this Yoo Hyun-jae suddenly arrived with documents and said, “It wasn’t your fault. Want to try again?” Even adding that Amatsuki Reina was living well.

“Haha…”

Novagirls—on paper, clearly a promising group. But now, to Akita, Yoo Hyun-jae felt more important than the metrics. Someone who saw right through him, lifted a burden he had carried for years, and prepared all this for Novagirls’ sake.

Were the earlier photos of Novagirls meant to remind him of New World Girls? Or to make him see his younger self reflected in Yoo?

Either way—this was a remarkable man.

The paint bastard must be punished. But aside from that—

“Tokyo Dome.”

Akita said:

“Our business scale is large. If we support you, you must at least reach Tokyo Dome. Do you believe that’s possible?”

Yoo answered:

“Of course.”

To Akita, the words didn’t feel like baseless bravado. Yoo genuinely seemed to think it was obvious.

Before the meeting ended, Akita said:

“…Thank you. Regardless of business, I won’t forget what happened today.”

‘Whew… that was nerve‑wracking.’

Even knowing a strategy would work, provoking and coaxing a major CEO was exhausting. Especially because this time he had to bluff a lot. Sometimes he felt like an anteater puffing itself up in front of a truck.

But it worked, so who cares.

“It felt like watching a drama, Team Leader Yoo,” Jongmuk said as they ate a late lunch/early dinner at the airport.

“I never imagined that was your strategy. I was so confused—why were you visiting the M Square manager, why were you interviewing a cafe owner… But this? This isn’t business or negotiation. This is wizardry. How does one even come up with this?”
“It just happened while I was thinking.”
“Thinking… I can’t imagine what kind of thinking leads to this. Honestly, it feels like keeping you at team‑leader level is a waste.”

Yoo actually admired Jongmuk too. Throughout the whole process—his planning with Onion, all the strange steps—Jongmuk never objected once. How many CEOs would do that?

“…It’s a relief things worked out. Korean media is getting criticized for defending me.”

Dabin defended him in an official interview; others did so on SNS, but were being attacked for it. “It’s just their opinion, what’s the big deal?”—that logic never works for celebrities.

People love criticizing others. But they don’t want to be someone who criticizes without “reason,” so they wait for justification. The moment they get it, they pick up stones with enthusiasm. And if a celebrity dares question whether that reason was valid—if they dare get in the way—people get furious.

Right now, Lee Jua was the main target.

@LeeJua
The loudest critics are usually the ones who know the least about the person they’re criticizing.
ㄴ Wake up, stop defending someone just because it’s not your problem
ㄴ How much do you even know about Yoo Hyun-jae lol
ㄴ You brainwashed?

Yoo’s insides boiled.

“For there to be such an uproar already… Let’s issue the rebuttal article immediately.”

Jongmuk smiled and said:

“Look at this. It just went up.”

Yoo opened the article:

[ After 10 Years, Kamisumire Partners With JM to Return to the Idol Industry—Why? ]
[ Akita Shinichi: “Yoo Hyun-jae is wise and logical. SERF’s demands were selfish—they tried to force a flawed strategy.” ]

“Akita is famous for fast decisions.”
“Apparently so.”

Yoo thought: