IJLMT 64

Chapter 64

[NovaGirls, Rising as Global Hallyu Stars? A Sensation Even Before Debut]
[Already, Before Their Official Debut? NovaGirls’ “Guiding Star” Heard Flowing Through the Streets of Tokyo]
[Shining Like Stars in the Night Sky—The Special Message Delivered by NovaGirls]

Jongmuk looked over the report. It summarized the contract offers that had come in from both Korea and Japan after NovaGirls’ album showcase. Requests from domestic music programs and variety shows went without saying…

• Shoei Stationery: Request for permission to produce NovaGirls character goods

• Gacha King Gacha Shop: Request for permission to produce capsule toys

• Japan’s public broadcaster: Request for permission to use their music

• Invitation to appear on a Japanese talk show

…

The list of contract and appearance offers in the report went on for several pages. Everyone was scrambling to throw money at NovaGirls. Which ones to approve and which to decline—that would be Yu Hyeonjae’s decision, wouldn’t it?

Is there such a thing as a report this enjoyable?

People described Jongmuk as a cold-blooded businessman. He thought of himself that way too. To be cold-blooded meant taking in information without emotion—neither despairing at bad news nor becoming overly intoxicated by good news, but instead thinking about how to respond to the information.

But Jongmuk wasn’t acting like himself right now.

“Damn…! This is it!”

Normally, he would have spent his time analyzing the information and devising strategies for the company’s response. But now his body kept fidgeting. He kept wanting to check his phone. Who would imagine that Lee Jongmuk, the CEO of JM Entertainment, would be acting like an exam student who didn’t want to study?

“How did it turn out like this?”

The words kept slipping out. Maybe this was how Zhuge Liang would have felt after failing for six years to conquer the north—only for fighter jets to suddenly appear, bomb the enemy, and win the campaign. Just a few years ago, they had attempted to enter the Japanese market with what he thought was thorough preparation, only to fail…

Jongmuk had never seen anyone in this industry as capable as himself. That wasn’t arrogance; it was a realistic assessment. No one judged situations like he did, and no one produced results as quickly. If he had worked alone, without Yu Hyeonjae, what would the outcome have been?

Accepting SERF’s proposal—no matter how many times he reconsidered it, that had been the most realistic choice from his perspective. When Yu Hyeonjae rejected the offer, Jongmuk had been uneasy inside. He had only managed to keep a straight face by clinging to the principle he’d set for himself: Yu Hyeonjae is better than me, so I trust him.

What if he had doubted Yu Hyeonjae even a little? Could there have been results this dramatic? Doubt was poison. And where did that poison come from?

If JM ever fell into crisis in the future, it would surely be because Jongmuk doubted Yu Hyeonjae. To block that doubt at its source…

Just then—

Bzzz.

His phone vibrated. Jongmuk answered the call. It was Park Mingyu, CEO of Valhalla.

[Congratulations.]

Park Mingyu spoke abruptly.

“On what?”

[Don’t play dumb. There’s no way you wouldn’t be excited. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?]

“You call out of the blue and talk nonsense—what is it?”

[For fuck’s sake, I’m congratulating you on becoming the number-one company in market cap in the entertainment industry.]

“Ah. Right. Now that you mention it.”

[‘Now that you mention it’? Aren’t you acting unusually cool?]

Over the past few months, JM had enjoyed nothing but good news. Top star actress Lee Jua joined the company, the Gordius game became a massive hit, Radoremi collapsed and all its top talent flowed into JM, NovaGirls took their first step toward becoming global Hallyu stars, and Lim Yujoo’s appearance on Masked Singer caused a huge sensation…

People now had enormous expectations for JM. Preorders were piling up for Lim Yujoo’s special album. Countless film studios were waiting for Lee Jua to finish Chalk and Spear as soon as possible.

Expectations meant demand, and demand meant money. JM’s stock price skyrocketed. Half a year ago, its market cap was 1.4 trillion won; now it was 9.8 trillion. Valhalla, the former number-one company in entertainment, stood at 8 trillion.

All of it revolved around Yu Hyeonjae. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say JM was divided into before Yu Hyeonjae and after Yu Hyeonjae.

“I get why you called to congratulate me. Park Mingyu, you’re pretty pissed off right now, huh? But if you just stayed quiet, you’d look even more pissed, so you called me to show that you’re ‘not actually that salty,’ right?”

[…Do you really have to spell that shit out? That’s why you’re still single at your age.]

“I’m not married by choice. Anyway, take care.”

[But don’t let your guard down. Public expectations can disappear in an instant. Your position isn’t that solid. Got it? Once Phantom Thieves of the Heart is released, we’ll take the lead again.]

“If you keep talking, you’re going to sound like a cheap villain. Want to keep going?”

[Fuck it. Congratulations. Seriously, congratulations. Damn it.]

With that, Park Mingyu hung up.

Becoming the number-one company by market cap and sweeping through the Korean entertainment industry—that had been Jongmuk’s ambition.

But now that he had reached this point, his thoughts changed.

With a monster like Yu Hyeonjae on our side, isn’t this ambition too small?

Especially after the revelations surrounding the Pale Moon Gate incident, he felt disillusioned. In a market still ruled by petty turf wars, how could a phoenix like Yu Hyeonjae spread his wings fully?

They had to go higher. He had to give Yu Hyeonjae more power. To do that…

Jongmuk picked up his pen and began writing on the paper.

<Stock Gift Agreement>

1. Type of shares: Common shares of JM Entertainment Co., Ltd. (listed)

2. Number of shares gifted: 1,000,000 shares

…

The office was more chaotic than usual. Maybe it was inevitable—Eru was here. Before the meeting room door fully closed, the team members’ chatter could be heard.

‘Asking for a signature on the way out… that’s probably not okay, right? Given the atmosphere.’
‘Is that person really that famous? What did they sing?’
‘Didn’t you see One-Two Man? They sang the opening for the theatrical version.’
‘What? That was them? I’ve heard it so many times.’
‘Why are they here? A transfer, maybe?’

I was wondering the same thing. Why come now? Weren’t they in the middle of preparing for a concert tour in Korea?

“Sorry to have kept you waiting for three hours.”

“No, not at all. I came unannounced.”

“Your Korean is excellent.”

“I lived in Korea when I was young.”

I checked the scent coming from Onion. Nothing unusual. There was a faint fragrance, but from experience, it meant: This person isn’t bad.

That puzzled me. Onion educated me and helped me distinguish opportunities from crises. But someone like Eru had come—how could this be neither an opportunity nor a crisis? What was going on?

Eru always sang with a strong, charismatic presence. But seeing them in person today, I felt an inexplicable sense of pity. Why? Straight posture, confident demeanor, a smiling face—there was nothing obviously pitiable.

“I watched NovaGirls’ BlueHeaven performance. It was excellent. I heard that both JM and Kamisumire respect their artists as much as possible, and it really felt like that kind of work. I was told that Manager Yu Hyeonjae was at the center of it—was that right?”

“There wasn’t really a ‘center.’ We’re all working toward the same goal.”

“I’d like to hear more about how you work with NovaGirls, and about your methods, Manager Yu. Could you spare some time?”

“I can make time, but I’d like to hear your purpose first. Why did you come to see me?”

At that moment, the trace of pity vanished from Eru’s face.

“I won’t beat around the bush. I came because I’m considering a transfer. If JM is planning a full-scale expansion into the Japanese market with Kamisumire, I want to work with you. My contract period isn’t long now, and with SERF being caught up in issues, it seems possible to terminate early if I review the clauses carefully. The members said they’d follow my decision, so before deciding, I wanted to learn more about what kind of company JM is.”

If Eru transferred to JM… public opinion in both Korea and Japan would explode. But—

“Wouldn’t it have been better to contact Kamisumire first? They’ve only recently reentered the idol market, but they’ve always been open to bands, haven’t they?”

“Hmm… I hesitated because Kamisumire feels too cold in how it treats the relationship between company and artist.”

“Cold… What kind of ‘warmth’ are you looking for? I’m not sure our company can provide what you want.”

Eru’s eyes widened. They looked genuinely flustered. It seemed they hadn’t expected that response.

The way they spoke made it clear. Night Butterfly wasn’t a small act. Riding the popularity of the One-Two Man animated movie, Eru’s fame was global. Night Butterfly’s official YouTube channel had five million subscribers.

Having brought up the idea of transferring first, they probably expected us to welcome it enthusiastically.

“…Is my proposal not appealing to you? I think it’d be a great opportunity. If I transfer to JM, public opinion will completely turn against SERF. Everything JM and Kamisumire are pushing will go much more smoothly.”

“That doesn’t seem very important. We’re not working to put SERF in a difficult position—we’re working to maximize the appeal of our artists.”

“Aren’t you opposed to SERF? I sympathized with that too. My image… honestly, it’s not what I want, and it’s suffocating. It feels like I’m wearing clothes that don’t fit, and I want to take them off now. So…”

Something felt off. Everything about it.

Teacher Yang, this person…

I checked my reasoning with Onion. The grass growing from the Onion bracelet drew an O.

“Is that really what you want, Eru?”

“Huh?”

“I have no intention of rejecting your proposal outright, nor of accepting it just because you’re famous. Regardless of SERF, you can simply tell us what you want from us. But you haven’t said it.”

“Ah… I guess I’ve had a lot bottled up.”

“Why so much?”

“I told you. The image SERF created for me feels suffocating.”

“Then couldn’t you have refused? With Night Butterfly’s stature, it’s not like the agency could completely bind you. You could have said no. You’ve maintained this image with SERF for three or four years—was all of it really forced?”

SERF might be an authoritarian company, but there were limits to what it could force on an artist. If you lay down and refuse, what could they do?

People always try to avoid what they hate, and pursue what they like. If someone keeps doing something they hate, it’s because something ‘good’ emerges from that hated process. It was simple logic, but it only truly sank in after extensive mental training with Onion.

Eru’s expression stiffened. Right—that made sense.

“What kind of image do you want to present if you come to our company? That’s all you need to tell us.”

“……”

Eru stared with their mouth slightly open, unable to speak for a moment. Then they finally did.

“…You’re much sharper than I expected. We’ve only exchanged a few words, but it feels like I’ve been stripped naked.”

The false smile vanished from Eru’s face. Their shoulders slumped.

“Honestly… I came because I don’t know. The image I made with SERF is fake… But if I present myself differently, will the public still like me? What if no one likes the real me…?”

Only after Eru said that did the Onion bracelet begin to release its fragrance.

Lee Jongmuk came down to the office of Management Division Team 3. He’d been drafting the stock gift agreement when he heard that Night Butterfly’s Eru was in the office.

Again? Is this Yu Hyeonjae magic again?

As talks were underway to expand the collaboration between JM and Kamisumire, Eru joining would be a huge boost. Both Korean and Japanese media would focus on it.

So cute.

Yu Hyeonjae, standing in the office, seemed to shine. But…

Something felt strange. Eru’s attitude, for one.

“I’m sorry if I came across as arrogant without realizing it. Thank you for your words.”

Saying that, Eru repeatedly bowed to Yu Hyeonjae. Everyone in the office was stunned. Soon, Jongmuk was too.

After Eru left, Jongmuk asked Yu Hyeonjae,

“What… what was that?”

“Eru of Night Butterfly hopes to transfer to us.”

Just as expected—Yu Hyeonjae magic. But then why did it feel like this?

“But for now, we decided to put it on hold. We’re going to talk more.”

“…What?”

The question why? rose to the tip of Jongmuk’s tongue, but he barely swallowed it.

CBS reporter Yoon Seohun stood in front of JM Entertainment’s headquarters, holding a premium jamón gift set.

He couldn’t stand curiosity—that was why he’d become a reporter. He had sent several emails to Yu Hyeonjae, but only received replies saying, I’ll tell you later.

At least he’d gotten permission for a company tour. If Manager Yu was there, he thought he’d at least say hello. With that in mind, he stood in front of the elevator.

“Huh?”

A short-haired beauty wearing a pulled-down cap stepped out. Their eyes met. A familiar face.

“E… Eru? Night Butterfly’s Eru?”

Eru quickly passed by him. Watching Eru’s back, Yoon Seohun thought:

JM—the number-two company in the Korean entertainment industry, long overshadowed by number-one Valhalla. It had already grown explosively over six months… had it really gone so far as to bring in Japan’s Night Butterfly too? What would that do to the market?

No… no matter what, that can’t be. Still… what if…