The Hit Song of This Life Is Revenge - Chapter 76

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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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This lifetime’s hit song is revenge.
76
It had been two days since the fan meeting ended.
Lee Jae-i sat upright on the sofa in the Star Entertainment CEO’s Office.
Her posture was neat, her appearance composed.
But the air hung heavy, as though a hurricane had swept through and left chaos in its wake.
…….
…….
The CEO sitting across from her said nothing either.
They counted breaths in a silence neither knew how to break.
A schedule cleared for the comeback.
Because of that, no immediate conflicts had arisen, no appearances disrupted.
At least that much was fortunate.
But those hours had tallied a different cost.
Hours spent reading cascading article headlines, scanning hostile comments.
A post from last night surfaced in her mind, and tension crept into her fingertips.
Pure criticism she could have endured.
But public opinion had veered in a far more inflammatory direction, hunting for a villain to blame.
└Wouldn’t Baek Song-ha be the victim of the self-composed song too, when you think about it? Her character says it all.
└Me too, now that you mention it.
└I was at the fan meeting in person. Every time a question about Baek Song-ha came up, she just clenched her jaw and pretended not to hear lolol
└Right lol she looked like she wanted to die.
└Honestly, I Am a Singer is rigged anyway. Poor Baek Song-ha…….
Lee Jae-i closed her eyes, then opened them.
Words that should never have been attached to Baek Song-ha’s name.
‘Pitiful. Victim.’
Those words had flipped a person’s standing with such casual ease.
No matter how hard she clung to reason, she couldn’t let this pass in peace.
“Lee Jae-i.”
The CEO’s low voice cut through the silence.
Lee Jae-i looked up and met his gaze.
“We’re putting out the System Error article today, so don’t worry too much.”
“Yes.”
She answered, though she already knew.
The clarification piece would sink below the surface almost immediately.
It had been the same on the day of the fan meeting.
An official statement had gone up on the company website: “We will examine the situation carefully.”
And what was the response?
└The artist should start by getting the facts straight.
└222 The agency must be having a reality check lolol
└If I were the president I’d lose it.
└What else is there to post besides an apology? Hang on. Maybe we’ll just fold. tsk tsk
The explanation became kindling, feeding the flames ever higher.
Lee Jae-i shook her head quietly.
The moment her gaze touched the floor, her eyes began to narrow.
No matter how much she turned it over, those words weren’t hers.
‘Words I barely ever use.’
For two days, Lee Jae-i had retraced that moment dozens of times.
The atmosphere, the lighting, the comments—everything.
No matter how she replayed it, that sentence refused to resurrect itself.
But a fragment lodged at the edge of her memory suddenly surfaced, pricking her consciousness with warning.
‘Find me some kids who are good at editing.’
‘If you shove a voice file in their face, they’ll get scared and crawl on their belly.’
Yoo Young-jae’s figure, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in that measured drawl.
She hadn’t been confronting him directly.
It was just something she’d overheard through a barely-open door, in passing.
Lee Jae-i pressed her lips together.
The bitter taste lingering in her memory suddenly took on new meaning.
‘Editing. Voice file. Get scared and crawl.’
Yoo Young-jae’s voice came flooding back with chilling clarity.
And she understood it then, instinctively.
‘It was Yoo Young-jae.’
One more thing cemented that certainty.
Her manager’s absence.
Even when she showed discomfort, he was always there at her side.
But that day was different.
‘Was it really a coincidence that it was on the fan meeting day?’
Someone might call that reasoning a leap.
But to someone who knew, it looked like preparation.
Lee Jae-i slowly raised her head.
Her gaze landed on Kang Ki-baek.
“Do we have results on the voice file yet?”
“We commissioned a detailed analysis, so it’s taking some time. It should come through soon.”
Lee Jae-i exhaled through her nose and nodded.
What she needed now wasn’t to vent her grievances.
Without precise measurements and solid proof, appeals alone couldn’t capture the public’s attention.
Her gaze crossed with Kang Ki-baek’s again.
In that brief exchange, her chest sank with weight.
‘I should have said something beforehand…….’
What if she’d told the CEO about her manager’s presence—or rather, that subtle absence?
‘I let my guard down.’
The relief of pushing Baek Song-ha away, the thrill of having swept the board clean.
Intoxicated by those emotions, her vigilance had clearly softened.
‘Pathetic, Lee Jae-i.’
The rebuke to herself settled low.
But she couldn’t afford to dwell on it.
One thing was clear.
This situation had crossed the line of what one person could handle alone.
Lee Jae-i parted her pressed lips.
“The fan meeting was held in-house, right.”
After collecting her breath, she continued.
“It strikes me as odd how easily someone could get access.”
“Mm…….”
To his wordless murmur, Lee Jae-i spoke more plainly.
“I don’t think this is something we can just cover over with trust. I think an internal security review would be wise.”
“So you’re saying someone deliberately orchestrated this?”
“It’s possible.”
The coldness in Lee Jae-i’s voice made Kang Ki-baek stiffen as well.
She read the confusion in his expression but couldn’t stop.
Because she alone knew who the criminal was.
Kang Ki-baek’s pupils wavered for a moment, then steadied.
“I hadn’t thought that far, but it’s not unfounded.”
Doubting his own staff wouldn’t sit well with him.
As silence stretched, Lee Jae-i softened her tone.
“Even if it’s not, a security check would be worth doing anyway. And honestly, keeping this quiet feels better right now.”
Lee Jae-i deliberately sidestepped the word ‘grateful’.
“Just a check. If nothing’s wrong, that’s cleanest.”
Now the CEO’s jaw relaxed slightly.
Lee Jae-i caught that shift and added:
“If anything does come up, we can always go public later.”
Now the choice rested in his hands.
He dragged his hand across his jaw and nodded quietly.
“All right. Running it quietly seems reasonable.”
As the situation flowed smoothly, Lee Jae-i let out a more comfortable breath.
That was when it happened.
Bang!
The door slammed against the wall, and the barely-settled air sharpened into violent vibration.
Lee Jae-i and Kang Ki-baek’s heads snapped toward the sound simultaneously.
Han Myeong-geun stood in the violently opened doorway.
“Please… please put out the article right now.”
His voice tumbled out in ragged, strangled pieces.
The CEO pressed down with a low statement, as though to tamp down the chaos.
“Our article goes out in an hour.”
Han Myeong-geun shook his head sharply.
He stepped further inside, his words almost a shout.
“No! That’s not it—this… this!”
He thrust his cell phone forward.
Text bloomed across the screen as it landed on the table.

A headline that found its mark with surgical precision.
Lee Jae-i snatched the phone.
She scrolled down one single line, and a photograph filled the screen.
“This……”
Stark against the bright background, the figure stood out in perfect contrast.
Though rendered in blur, the CEO’s silhouette was unmistakable.
And beside him, her own face beamed, ice cream in hand.
It was unmistakably from the day they’d photographed the contract document in Chicago.
“Christ.”
There was no need to wonder who’d leaked it.
‘Yoo Young-jae. You’ve never been anything but filthy. Your brain is.’
The opening line of the article below caught her eye.
[The man standing next to Lee Jae-i in the photo is confirmed to be K, the CEO of Lee Jae-i’s agency, Star Entertainment.]
The blur had done nothing; the CEO’s identity lay entirely exposed.
Grind.
Her molars pressed together hard enough to be heard.
The CEO reached for the tablet and scanned the screen.
“This has to be deliberate.”
Now his voice too carried an icy edge.
Han Myeong-geun remained agitated, pointing at the tablet screen without pause.
“We need to put out the rebuttal article before the System Error piece—this one first.”
His logic was textbook.
If the dating article was false, swift rebuttal was the right move.
But Lee Jae-i’s judgment diverged.
“No. Put the System Error article on hold too, for now.”
“Lee Jae-i! The public thinks silence means admission!”
Lee Jae-i raised her head and spoke firmly.
“There’s a more effective way.”
Her explanation made both Han Myeong-geun and Kang Ki-baek’s expressions flicker, one after the other.

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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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