The information from Kim Ji-soo hit Han Yoo-jin like a physical blow. The air in the hallway outside his new, successful office suddenly felt thin and cold. This wasn't a business problem. This wasn't a matter of streams, charts, or contracts. This was a deeply personal, meticulously crafted attack designed to destroy him not as a CEO, but as a human being. The Viper wasn't just trying to win; she was trying to annihilate.
He stood there for a long moment, the background noise of his team happily planning their future a distant, muffled sound. He was more stressed now than when he was facing down Chairman Choi. This wasn't about navigating corporate sharks; this was about saving someone he cared about from becoming collateral damage in a war she didn't even know she was fighting.
He immediately called Lee Seo-yeon. His voice was calm, betraying none of the cold fury churning in his gut. He didn't mention the tips or the reporter. He just asked her to meet him for coffee, saying he wanted to discuss the promise he'd made to her at the cafe. She agreed, her voice on the phone sounding small and strained.
They met in a quiet, private room at a coffee shop, a neutral ground away from prying eyes. Seo-yeon arrived looking pale and anxious, unable to meet his gaze. She clutched her bag in her lap like a shield. Yoo-jin knew he had to handle this with the delicacy of a bomb disposal expert. One wrong move, one accusatory tone, and she could shut down completely.
He got straight to the point, but his voice was gentle, filled with concern rather than accusation. "Seo-yeon," he began, "I know about the OST audition. And I know about the interview they want you to do for the entertainment news show. I need you to tell me everything. From the beginning."
The directness, combined with his lack of anger, seemed to break through her defenses. Her carefully constructed composure crumbled. Her shoulders began to shake, and tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry, CEO Han," she sobbed, her voice thick with shame. "I'm so, so sorry."
Between ragged breaths, she confessed the entire story. She told him about the friendly, stylish "casting director" who had become a regular at her cafe. She told him about the incredible, life-changing promise of a private audition for a major drama OST. And she told him about the final, poisonous suggestion: that to secure the part, she needed to "embellish" her story, to paint a picture of herself as the tragic artist abandoned by her former mentor, Han Yoo-jin.
"I was just so desperate," she cried, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "For a moment… for just a moment, it felt like my dream was alive again. She made it sound so harmless, just a little media play, a story to make the public love me more. I didn't think… I didn't realize what it would do to you. I wouldn't have… I swear…"
Yoo-jin listened patiently, letting her pour out her guilt and confusion. He didn't interrupt. He just nodded, his expression one of deep empathy. He focused his ability on her one last time, to be certain. [Lee Seo-yeon Status: Genuine Remorse. Victim of Professional Manipulation. No Malicious Intent.] His heart ached for her. She was a pawn, and she knew it.
He was now trapped in an impossible ethical and strategic nightmare. He laid out the options in his mind, each one leading to a disastrous outcome.
Option A: Expose the entire plot. He could go to his reporter friend, Kim Ji-soo, lay out all the evidence of The Viper's manipulation, and clear his name. But this would mean publicly exposing Lee Seo-yeon as a willing participant in the lie, even if she was coerced. She would be branded a liar, her reputation would be shattered, and her dream of being a singer would be dead forever. He would be saved, but at the cost of her destruction. The Viper would get away clean, her involvement hidden behind layers of deniability. It was an unacceptable moral price.
Option B: Let Seo-yeon do the interview and hope for the best. He could trust that her innate goodness would win out, that she wouldn't say anything too damaging. But this was naive. The hosts of those gossip shows were experts at leading questions and manipulative editing. They would twist her words and create the exact narrative The Viper wanted. This was not an option.
Option C: Convince Seo-yeon to back out of the interview. This would save her from having to lie on television. But the moment she pulled out, The Viper's anonymous "source" would leak a new story to the press: "Han Yoo-jin threatens his former trainee into silence after she planned to reveal the truth about their past." He would look even more guilty, like a powerful man silencing his victim. He would be cornered.
There was no clean way out. Every defensive move led to a checkmate. A familiar feeling washed over him—the same feeling he'd had in Chairman Choi's office. He couldn't win by playing their game. He had to flip the entire board over.
He leaned forward, his eyes locking with Seo-yeon's tear-filled ones. "Seo-yeon," he said, his voice calm but radiating an intense, almost frightening confidence. "You are going to do the interview."
She stared at him, horrified, a fresh wave of tears threatening. "What? But I can't… I'd have to lie about you…"
"No," Yoo-jin said, a brilliant, incredibly risky plan crystallizing in his mind. "You're not going to lie. You're going to tell the truth. All of it. Just not the truth they're expecting."
He began to outline his audacious counter-trap. "You will go to the interview. You will be polite, humble, and earnest. You will answer their initial questions truthfully. You'll talk about your time at Stellar, about your dream of being a singer. You'll talk about how much you admired my belief in your talent."
He paused, letting her absorb the first part. "And then, they will try to lead you. They will ask you how it felt when I left. They will ask if you felt abandoned. And this," he said, his eyes blazing with strategic fire, "is where you pivot. You will look at them with a confused, innocent expression. And you will tell them the story of the strange 'casting director' who has been frequenting your cafe."
Seo-yeon's eyes widened as she began to understand.
"You won't make any accusations," Yoo-jin instructed. "You will simply present the facts of what happened to you. You will say, 'A nice woman told me she could get me an audition, but it was very strange. She said that to get the part, I had to say sad things about my old manager, CEO Han. She said I had to tell people I felt abandoned by him, even though it wasn't true. It felt really wrong. It scared me. Is that… is that normal in this industry?'"
He let the power of the idea sink in. "You will not be the girl accusing me. You will be the innocent rookie exposing the predatory, manipulative practices of the industry itself. You will shift the entire narrative. The story will no longer be about me. It will be about you, a brave young artist who was nearly tricked and exploited by a shadowy figure. You will become the hero of your own story, a symbol of the dangers young artists face. And I will be the one in the background, fully supporting you for your courage."
It was a high-wire act of the most dangerous kind. It required an incredible, convincing performance from Seo-yeon. It required her to withstand the intense pressure from the show's host and producers in real-time. It was everything.
"Can you do it?" Yoo-jin asked her, his voice quiet, his gaze searching hers, giving her the choice.
Lee Seo-yeon looked at the man across from her. He wasn't her boss. He wasn't her enemy. He was the one person who, for the second time, was trying to save her—not for his own benefit, but for hers. He was offering her a way to not only escape a trap, but to emerge from it stronger than before. A new, fierce determination began to burn away her tears and her fear. She straightened her back.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice clear and steady for the first time. "I can do it."
The next day, she walked into the lobby of the broadcast station for her scheduled interview. She was stepping willingly into The Viper's trap. But this time, she wasn't the bait. She was the trigger.