Episode 56: Dark Clouds
[On Christmas Eve last year, the incident occurred at a Hongdae club…]
The date and place of the incident haven’t changed.
Even the method—drugging the victim into unconsciousness—matches my memory exactly.
But two things are different.
‘From two 20-year-old women to a single 25-year-old woman…’
The victim.
‘And from sexual assault to rape…’
The crime.
Even though 16 years have passed in my memory, I’m certain I’m not mistaken.
The scandal caused outrage largely because the victims were minors at the time.
It was shocking enough to leave an impression on me, despite my preoccupation back then.
A 25-year-old woman raped by Kevin Lee? That doesn’t exist in my memory.
That’s how I knew.
‘Why didn’t I see it sooner?’
Since regressing, I’d avoided facing Lee Heekyung’s true nature.
I assumed Kevin Lee’s scandal was a leash she’d put on him.
Though I didn’t spend much time with him, Kevin Lee struck me as utterly shameless—a man who needed such a leash to be controlled.
‘I thought she used it to discard him when he became useless.’
I was wrong.
Lee Heekyung, who erased Zia from my life to eliminate risk, hiring Kevin Lee as Polaris’s producer despite knowing his actions?
‘What kind of influence would that have on the kids?’
It never made sense.
Sure, Kevin Lee was a top producer back then, but not so exceptional as to outweigh that risk.
There’s only one explanation for this shocking shift in the scandal’s details from my past life.
‘To go this far…’
In my original timeline, Kevin Lee was ousted and about to retaliate against Starlight.
Now, with the plagiarism issue threatening to engulf Polaris, Lee Heekyung didn’t just control the timing—she orchestrated the entire scandal.
A fire line.
A barrier to keep the plagiarism wildfire from reaching Polaris and Starlight.
Having lived one future, it wasn’t hard to see the truth behind Kevin Lee’s assault scandal.
The more I read the article, the stronger my certainty grew, sending chills through me and nausea rising despite an empty stomach.
‘Will Lee Heekyung stop here?’
From her perspective, I’m worse than Kevin Lee—a pest to be crushed.
Honestly, most of my Blind Singer performances were laced with intent to provoke her.
Even without that, filling the stage with idol songs—except for ‘Journey for You’ and ‘Night, Stars, Sky’—would naturally rile her up.
‘And now I’ve poured fuel on this incident.’
Even if I hit a career peak and vanished, I doubt she’d stop.
‘After 16 years, she still remembered Zia’s name.’
Would someone like that—a manipulator unafraid of such disgusting schemes—leave me alone if I became a one-hit wonder?
For now, Seo Yoonje’s presence shields me.
But the moment her influence surpasses his, she’ll undoubtedly aim her arrows at me again.
‘I won’t let that happen.’
In my past life, with far less influence, she buried Kevin Lee with a prison sentence.
If her dirty tricks turned on me, would I even see them coming?
‘In that sense, I have no way to fight her directly. None.’
But why should I?
I just need to avoid giving her a ring to fight in.
‘Time to get serious.’
Jun-I, Sunghoon-I, Hikaru, Haeyoung-I, Sookyum-i.
I’d planned to bring only Polaris members to my side, but that’s changed.
Knowing what Lee Heekyung is capable of, I can’t stop there.
‘Polaris. And Lyra, Antares.’
Starlight’s constellation of idols began with Altair and Pleiades, peaked with Polaris, and continued with the girl group Lyra and boy group Antares.
I’ll cast dark clouds over that starry sky.
***
It’s no boast but a fact: I played the biggest role in building Starlight’s constellation of idols.
After Altair and Pleiades’ contracts expired in 2026 and 2028, Polaris held the center of that starry map.
But I can’t claim it was all my doing.
Artists brought in through Starlight’s mergers shone in their own right, and groups like Lyra and Antares, following Polaris, weren’t entirely my creations either.
So, casting clouds over Starlight’s sky isn’t something I can do alone.
‘Reproducing every song released under Starlight? I could do that easily.’
But instead of revisiting what I’ve sworn off, bringing those talents to MyWay is the smarter play.
Honestly, they don’t even need to come to MyWay.
Just keeping them from Starlight is enough.
‘Sure, others will fill those gaps…’
But forcing Starlight to settle for second-best is meaningful enough.
I have the power to ensure the best talents produce the best results.
Strictly speaking, poaching the key people who form Starlight’s backbone is the dark cloud I’ll cast over their starry sky.
The starting point was already set: Gong Jiu, a composer Starlight would surely snatch up if I didn’t act now.
‘Am I too late?’
The moment Kevin Lee’s scandal broke, his name was already erased from Rising Star’s credits.
For Starlight to make such a move before the plagiarism case is legally settled suggests they’re wooing Gong Jiu.
In other words, they’ve already begun recruiting him.
I tried contacting him through Um Dongkyu, but his acquaintance hadn’t reached Gong Jiu for a day.
Another day passed with my meeting request unanswered.
When he agreed to meet, Unmask Tour’s Daejeon shoot delayed it another day.
Three days later, I’m finally meeting Gong Jiu.
‘His name isn’t in the credits yet, so talks with Starlight might not be finalized.’
But imagining what sweet promises Starlight might’ve poured on him makes my stomach churn.
Starlight likely offered an exclusive composer contract, while all I can do is try to keep him from joining them.
‘I’m already behind when I should’ve gotten to him first…’
The bigger problem? I don’t even know what to say to him.
Starlight’s exclusive contract is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for an unknown like Gong Jiu.
Ding.
As I mull this over, the door opens.
It’s Gong Jiu.
“Oh.”
Spotting me, he lets out a small gasp and approaches.
“Nice to meet you, Han Yujin-ssi.”
His greeting is tinged with awkwardness.
“Hm, haven’t we met? I thought so. Our eyes locked back then, didn’t they?”
Trying to ease the tension, I bring up the Unmask Tour Seoul show.
Gong Jiu scratches the back of his head with a shy smile.
“I thought you wouldn’t remember—I looked rough that day.”
“It just caught my attention at first. If you hadn’t posted that day, I probably wouldn’t have. Dongkyu-hyung told me right away it was you, the composer.”
“Oh.”
As Gong Jiu lets out another soft gasp, Madam Moon Sookhee, who kept the café open for us, sets a cup in front of him.
“In case it was cold out, I ordered ahead. It’s a vanilla latte, but if you want something else…”
“No, it’s perfect. I love vanilla lattes. It’s uncanny you knew—thank you.”
I’d know.
Hot or iced depending on the season, he always drank vanilla lattes.
Watching foam cling to his lips as he sips from the mug, I restart the conversation.
“That song you posted online—I listened to it a lot. I was shocked to learn it was you.”
“I was shocked watching your interview. I wondered who the other two listeners were besides that guy. To think one was you. We’re connected in strange ways.”
The other was me too, but no need to bring that up now.
As I think this, Gong Jiu bows with a smile.
“Thank you. Because of you, I could set things right.”
“Because of me? It’s just things returning to their rightful place.”
“No, I found the courage that day because you sang to me. That’s certain.”
His words leave me with a sheepish smile.
But time’s short—I need to ask something before the moment slips away.
“So, has Starlight said anything? I saw Kevin Lee’s name was removed from Rising Star’s credits.”
Trying to sound casual, I ask, and Gong Jiu answers with a smile.
“Oh, that. They offered to put my name there if I joined as an exclusive composer.”
“Oh…”
To me, it sounds like a veiled threat, but for Gong Jiu, facing a lawsuit, it’s an irresistible offer of support.
His smile and the expected news draw a bitter response from me.
‘Too late.’
Gong Jiu is a talent I can’t lose.
He didn’t just help reshape Altair’s image—his songs were so good I turned down a sub-label offer to focus on creating them.
But then—
“I rejected it. I told them to leave it blank if they didn’t want my name. I’ll win the lawsuit anyway, so what’s the big favor?”
His words carry an unexpected resolve, making me question if this is the Gong Jiu I know.
“What? Why… It’s such a good opportunity…”
I blurt out something I shouldn’t, despite coming to dissuade him.
Still smiling, Gong Jiu hands me his phone, showing a music app.
“I was so focused on making this song I couldn’t even contact you. If your schedule hadn’t pushed our meeting back a day, I might not have finished it.”
As I process his words, he continues.
“You asked why I refused? If I accepted, I wouldn’t be able to give you my songs.”
His voice drives his intent into my mind.
Then, with a smile, he seals it.
“I heard you’re working on a song already, but… if you like this one, could you sing it someday? If it’s not good, I’ll prepare another.”
Looks like the first button of my plan was fastened before I even reached for it.