Became The Leader of a Girl Group Destined To Fail - Chapter 253

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 45.

Back in South Korea.
While the other members headed to the Dormitory, Yun Chung and Baek Ju-ha were in a car bound for Colors Entertainment Headquarters.
The members seemed lost in thought, still processing the aftermath of their United States trip.

“The music video we shot this time will be released right after the Coachella performance, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve released something so bright.”

At Ryu Bora’s comment, Kim Geum suddenly leaned forward.

“You’re right—our music videos always have had a certain darkness to them, haven’t they?”
“Since our full album was already quite dark, if the next track is dark too, the EVEL fans might get tired of it.”

All the members nodded in agreement at Kim Geum’s words.
After all, “salvation” only exists because there is darkness—and someone becomes that single ray of light piercing through it.
That’s why StillBlue’s albums always had to contain both darkness and light intertwined. The only difference was in their proportion.
Though in the past, their albums had always shone brighter than they were dark, the most recent full album they released had leaned heavier toward darkness.
…It made sense, really. The members had been through difficult times in many ways.
It wasn’t just because of Kim Geum’s hearing loss. The members had been suffering under grueling schedules and the pressure that their next album had to be even better.
It was actually impossible to hit a career high with every single album, yet if they failed to do so, they’d be branded as having failed—as being in decline.
The members didn’t really mind those labels themselves. The real problem was the fear of disappointing the fans.
A singer’s achievements often became a source of pride for their fans, after all.

“This song, no matter what, has to be bright—bright and bright! We made it with the concept of something fans can just casually play on a clear Sunday morning.”

Kim Geum nodded as she spoke.

“Since we were trying to create a song to enjoy at the festival while sipping a cocktail….”

This was Yun Chung’s pragmatic take on it.

“…That’s what it was? I thought it was just a song with that dry, crisp, sun-soaked feeling—like vacuuming while basking in the sunshine?”

This was Seo Baek-young’s impression.

“I thought this was the kind of song you listen to while eating yogurt ice cream with pineapple, grapes, grapefruit, and loads of honey all mixed in?!”

…This was Yeon Ju-hong’s recent assessment, having become utterly obsessed with yogurt ice cream delivery.

“I thought it was a good song for when you open the window, lie in bed feeling the gentle breeze, put on headphones, and enjoy the slightly cool air.”

This was Ryu Bora’s opinion.
The members looked at each other, having each shared completely different impressions, and let out soft laughs.

“Ugh, I want to go to Coachella so badly and perform a concert too~!”
“A concert?”

At Kim Geum’s words, the members’ heads snapped toward her.

“Now that you mention it, shouldn’t we have already held our domestic concert?!”
“Right. They promised us a bigger concert venue a few months ago.”

Shouldn’t the concert schedule have been announced by now?
I glanced toward Baek Ju-ha.
But her expression didn’t look good at all.
…Something seems to be going wrong.
I let out a short sigh.

“Since she and I have to go to the Company anyway, I’ll check on it.”

All the members nodded quietly, sensing something was off.

***

“…So.”

I cleared my throat once more and looked at Hong Yeon-seo.

“You’re telling me you booked a 7,000-seat venue instead of the 15,000 seats we originally wanted?”

I hadn’t mentioned 15,000 seats without reason.
Colors Entertainment had initially said that with a group like StillBlue, we could fill the Gymnastics Arena, and based on our recent album performance alone, it seemed more than feasible.
Besides, it wasn’t as if we were doing ten concert dates—most venues were typically booked for just two days.

“We can’t just call that seven thousand seats. If we include standing room, we could secure up to ten thousand.”
“If you squeeze the seating that tightly and expand it that way, you know fan safety can’t be guaranteed.”

In fact, safety accidents had occurred because of such things in the past, and it had become industry standard never to recklessly cram in that many spectators.
What in the world was he talking about?

“….”

Hong President seemed to have nothing more to say about this matter either, remaining silent.
But such irresponsible silence only fueled my anger. It was as if he had no intention of solving anything—just expecting me to understand on my own.

“Why did you set it that way in the first place?”
“I didn’t want to overextend ourselves.”
“!”
“If seats go unsold, the company absorbs all those losses. We made the judgment that this wasn’t the time to take on that kind of risk—”
“It wasn’t ‘we,’ it was you, sir.”
“!”
“You should speak more carefully, sir.”

Yun Chung let her anger show openly for the first time in a long while.

“Are you finished speaking?”
“No. I haven’t said everything yet.”

Hong President glared at Yun Chung as if exasperated, but she didn’t avoid his gaze.
There was no need to consider his feelings anymore.
Yun Chung handed Hong President a copy of the documents she’d received from Choi Han-jin.

“!”

Hong President stared straight at Yun Chung without even opening the envelope containing the documents.
It seemed he instinctively sensed that whatever lay inside would drive him toward ruin.

“So you’re really going to come after me?”
“That’s something I feel I need to say.”

Going beyond merely neglecting the company—actually harming the artists to sell off the company itself.
I understood his music mattered to him, but he needed to understand that just as his music was important, so were other people.

“Given your personality, you wouldn’t have come this far without proper preparation.”
“….”
“You must be confident that I’ll grant whatever you ask for, which is why you’ve pushed things to this point.”

Hong President spoke in a voice tinged with anger and bitterness.
Yun Chung didn’t respond to his murmuring.
I’m not kind enough to answer every single thing like this.

“What do you want?”
“Relinquish your management rights.”
“!”
“And sell half of the shares you hold.”

Hong President’s eyes widened at those words, then quickly narrowed.
As if saying, ‘Even you can’t escape this.’

“Sell your shares? That’s unexpected. I thought you’d tell me never to sell them.”
“If you hold 24 percent, stopping you would only be temporary. Eventually, you’d be able to exert influence over the board based on that stake. So I concluded it’s better to reduce that influence to about half first.”
“….”

Hong President’s expression grew increasingly cold at Yun Chung’s matter-of-fact words.
Yet her eyes, unlike her expression, continued to dart toward Yun Chung ceaselessly—as if contemplating how to persuade this small creature before her.

“Fine. Let’s say I do as you say. But do you know how much this 12 percent is worth? There aren’t many people who can afford to buy a stake of this magnitude-”
“There’s one.”
“!”

Hong Yeon-seo’s head snapped around.
It wasn’t Yun Chung who answered, but Baek Ju-ha.

“Surely you don’t mean…!”
“You haven’t forgotten who my mother is, have you?”

At Baek Ju-ha’s bitter expression, Hong Yeon-seo let out an exasperated sigh and turned to look at Yun Chung.

“Is this all you’ve chosen? Selling our company to another entertainment agency?”
“Another entertainment agency?”

Yun Chung tilted her head slightly, as if questioning what he was even talking about.

“I’m not sure what you mean. I’m simply informing you that Ju-ha herself could purchase that stock—not another entertainment company. Representative Baek Gyeong-ju recently demonstrated a willingness to invest a substantial amount in Ju-ha.”
“!”
“And I’m not saying to sell all 12 percent to Ju-ha.”
“That means—”
“It means to sell it through a block deal to minimize stock price damage.”
“!”
“So no single person can secure the entire stake.”

Hong President finally understood everything, his face draining of all color.
This was the best solution I had devised.
A way to avoid handing Colors to All Season, using Hong President merely as leverage.
What did Hong President hate most?
Surrendering his control to his greatest rival.
So I was giving him a choice.
If he didn’t want to hand Colors over to All Season.
Then simply release that stock to the market so no one could possess Colors entirely.

“…So you’re letting the current executives—excluding me—continue running the company.”
“It became possible thanks to you eliminating even Nam Director. The current executives remaining… they’re people who genuinely care about the company.”
“In other words, you found a way to remove only me from this company, didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer.
Because that was precisely what I wanted.
Yes.
That was exactly what I desired.
For no one to own Colors entirely, and for the current executives—whose abilities had been proven—to operate Colors instead.
In the end, I had found that path.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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