Good Cop, Bad Cop

Truth be told, the whole thing hadn't started as some grand conspiracy between Lee Sooman and Kim Youngmin.

Not at first, anyway.

If you were to trace the chaos back to its origin, it all began with a half-baked idea.

There was no master plan brewing in the shadows before the SNSD controversy exploded.

In reality, everything started with a vague, poorly thought-out notion—something that had been slowly taking shape in Kim Youngmin's mind. A desperate gamble, disguised as strategy.

Youngmin was what people in the industry liked to call a "parachute CEO"—or, in more common terms, a product of nepotism.

He hadn't earned his position through years of experience or contributions to SM Entertainment.

Instead, he'd been handpicked and placed in power by the company's financiers—board members who valued numbers more than artistry.

Before stepping into the role, Youngmin had neither a background in entertainment nor any real influence within the company's inner circle.

That lack of experience—and legitimacy—haunted him from day one.

And that's why he made such bold, reckless moves.

The idea of generating a scandal wasn't just bad—it was dangerous.

But in Youngmin's mind, it was also necessary.

He was desperate to prove himself in a situation where he felt cornered, where the power he held was more symbolic than functional.

That's why he believed that stirring public attention—no matter how controversial—might spark renewed interest in the girl group he managed.

A calculated distraction. A high-risk maneuver to elevate SNSD's visibility and, hopefully, generate results that would satisfy his backers.

If someone with a better grasp of the entertainment business had been in his shoes, they likely would've chosen a smarter, cleaner path.

But Youngmin wasn't one of those people.

He was cornered, underqualified, and watching his chances of success dwindle with every passing day—especially as Lee Sooman, SM's founder and still its most influential figure, continued racking up win after win.

And to make matters worse, Youngmin had played a direct role in setting up this mess.

In one of the earlier board meetings, he had managed to convince the members to restructure the company.

Artists would now be divided into two major groups: male idols under Lee Sooman's supervision, and female idols under Youngmin's.

On paper, it looked like a fair distribution of power.

But in practice, it was a move loaded with personal strategy.

Youngmin specifically chose the girl group division, and not for the reasons one might assume.

His true motivation had a name: Jihoon.

Since taking over as CEO, Youngmin had observed the way Jihoon treated the girls—particularly Taeyeon.

It wasn't just professional; it was personal.

Jihoon genuinely cared about them, in a way that was rare in the cold machine of K-pop management.

Youngmin saw an opportunity.

If he controlled the girl group, maybe—just maybe—he could gain Jihoon's support.

Maybe Jihoon would help him succeed, whether by influence, creative input, or simply association.

But things didn't unfold the way Youngmin hoped.

Jihoon didn't play along.

He was too busy for boardroom games, too distant to be pulled in by flattery or position.

Because he had flown to Los Angeles for his Inception project, staying away for more than three months.

All his calls went unanswered. Invitations ignored. And during that time, Lee Sooman wasted no time taking full control of the boy groups—and delivering massive results.

Frustrated and feeling left behind, Youngmin made a rash decision.

A manufactured scandal. He zeroed in on Jessica. A dating rumor here, a whisper to the press there. Stir the pot. Let the chaos unfold.

The thinking was simple: drama sells. If SNSD could weather the storm, the aftermath might boost their popularity.

But sadly it doesn't.

The backlash was harsher than anticipated.

Their fans were furious, the media didn't bite the way he'd hoped, and instead of lifting the group, the controversy threatened to tear them apart.

And just as the dust began to settle, Jihoon returned.

Now, with the damage already done, Youngmin found himself face-to-face with Lee Sooman—a man known for his calm demeanor but never for his forgiveness when it came to foolish decisions.

The initial conversation was heated. Sooman had every right to be furious. But being the seasoned strategist he was, he quickly saw something else in the disaster: leverage.

Rather than dwell on Youngmin's blunder, Sooman pivoted. What if they could use this situation?

What if they could turn the wreckage into a rope—and tie Jihoon in even tighter?

Which is why, right now in the president's office, Youngmin was playing the role of the panicked executive—pointing fingers, shifting blame, and pleading for help.

It was classic theater—a well-rehearsed good cop, bad cop routine.

Because both of them knew one thing for certain:

Jihoon would never stand by and let the girls suffer.

And that had been the real plan all along.

After all, Lee Sooman had been in this industry far too long to let emotions dictate his actions.

Because in the adult world, it was all about benefits and aligned interests.

Morality, sentiment, even loyalty—those were luxuries.

Emotions weren't obstacles; they were tools, carefully wielded to manipulate outcomes.

And for men like Lee Sooman and Kim Youngmin, executing the plan cleanly and effectively was the only thing that truly mattered.

Jihoon knew that better than most.

Even as he stood there, listening to their veiled justifications and corporate double-speak, a part of him simmered with quiet disgust.

He saw right through their calculated performance—their greedy mouths spinning narratives, their hands already deep in the machinery.

But despite the revulsion curdling in his chest, Jihoon remained composed.

Calm.

Controlled.

Because he understood exactly what this was. The shadow hands behind the curtain were moving again, implicating themselves in yet another game.

This wasn't just Lee Sooman's doing—Jihoon knew that much.

The level of orchestration here, like controlling the media, planting fake narratives, shaping public perception—was all far beyond Sooman's personal reach nor it's SM.

No, they couldn't have pulled this off without approval—without the blessing of the real power players behind the scenes. The ones who stayed hidden, but whose influence shaped everything.

Jihoon was already in it. Whether he liked it or not, he'd been dragged into their twisted schemes long ago.

And now, there was no stepping back without abandoning the people he cared about.

That was never an option.

He looked between them—Youngmin's frantic gestures, Sooman's cold, offended posture—and let out a slow breath.

If you choose to dance with wolves, you either get eaten... or you learn how to bite back.

Jihoon had made his choice long ago. He was the one who had stepped into this world willingly, who had shaken hands with devils to carve out something bigger than himself.

He couldn't claim ignorance now—not when he'd helped set the table they were all feasting at.

Even with his own footing now secure—his reputation, his work, his rising influence—he knew he couldn't walk away.

Not when the ones he cared about were still stuck on the board, pieces in someone else's game.

Not when Taeyeon and the rest of the girls—some of the only people he could truly call friends in this brutal, backstabbing industry—were being used as pawns.

Jihoon didn't have many friends. He never had.

But the girls weren't just clients or rising idols under his guidance—they were real to him.

They made him laugh when the pressure of it all nearly crushed him.

They reminded him what mattered when everything else turned to noise.

And in this second life, he'd already learned a brutal truth: anger was only weakness when it clouded your mind.

Rage made you predictable. Emotion made you vulnerable.

So now, as the wolves showed their fangs beneath boardroom politeness, Jihoon didn't flinch.

He simply smiled—cold, unreadable, unafraid.

Then he spoke, voice calm and cutting.

"Cut your crap. Just tell me what you've got in mind."

[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe, JiangXiu, Night_Adam, Daoist098135 and Daoistadj for bestowing the power stone!]