The competition within the Korean entertainment industry is notoriously brutal.
For most new artists, the path to success begins with a single digital release—essentially a test balloon to gauge public interest.
If the response is favorable, the company might invest further, allowing the artist to release a mini-album or eventually a full-length album.
But if that debut single flops? That's usually the end of the road.
The company simply won't spend another won on someone the market has already ignored.
Jihoon understood this all too well.
Even Taeyeon's group, SNSD, had walked that razor-thin line at debut.
For any idol group, debuting is a gamble—like throwing a Hail Mary pass.
You only get one shot to make it work, and if you miss, there's rarely a second chance.
Despite the buzz surrounding them—their pre-debut exposure singing Jihoon's OST and appearing in his film—their actual launch was far from smooth.
Mismatched concepts, public backlash, behind-the-scenes management issues, and a ridiculous advertising strategy all quickly clouded what should've been a triumphant beginning.
Rumors spread, netizens speculated, and even SM Entertainment—despite its formidable reputation—was rumored to have considered pulling the plug.
If not for SNSD's strategic value to the company, and their role as a key piece in a larger corporate game, they might have disbanded before even reaching their first anniversary.
Jihoon let out a soft, bitter laugh as he shook his head.
"You must really believe in this girl," he said quietly, glancing toward the hallway where Jieun had exited moments earlier.
But it was too late to pull back now.
The wheels were in motion.
The promotions had started.
The debut date was locked in.
He exhaled and added, "Well… since the arrow's already been drawn, we might as well let it fly."
"This is just my perspective. Whether I'm right or wrong, the public will decide."
Han Sungsoo nodded, half-sighing, half-smiling. "If only you were officially part of our company, Jihoon-ah. Things would be a lot easier."
Jihoon rolled his eyes and muttered with a sarcastic grin, "Come on, hyung… It's not like I get any shares from Loen just for giving advice."
And it was true.
Loen Entertainment, though established for years in the music distribution and record label business, was still relatively new to managing artists and producing original content.
They were trying to transition into a full-fledged entertainment agency—an entirely different beast.
From a business standpoint, it made sense for them to lean into the current trend: emotional ballads, sad lyrics, soft vocals.
It was what was charting.
But in doing so, they became too focused on market data and missed the core truth—Jieun wasn't just a voice.
She was a person, a brand, an image that needed shaping and nurturing beyond just one melancholic track.
In his previous life, Jihoon remembered clearly: Loen had signed multiple promising artists, but nearly all of them fizzled out before they had the chance to shine.
All except Jieun.
Why?
Because every ounce of the company's limited resources went into making her succeed.
Her talent could withstand the endless market testing, the tight schedules, the harsh criticisms.
But while she was propelled forward, others were quietly left behind—starved of the attention, funding, and opportunities needed not just to grow, but to survive.
The spotlight that shone so brightly on her cast long shadows over the rest.
It wasn't necessarily malice—it was miscalculation.
But in an industry where momentum means everything, unequal resource allocation could doom even the most talented artist.
Han Sungsoo noticed the shift in Jihoon's expression—the storm in his gaze had passed, replaced with quiet resolve.
Sensing it was the right moment, he gave Jihoon a firm pat on the shoulder.
"Like I promised you from the beginning," he said, his voice steady, "no matter how Jieun's debut goes, the company won't give up on her."
Jihoon gave a small nod, his face unreadable but a little less tense. "Alright then, I'll take my leave."
"You're not going to see Jieun before you go?" Sungsoo asked.
"Nah," Jihoon replied with a half-smile. "She needs to stay focused. I'll come pick her up later when she's done with practice."
Sungsoo chuckled. "Alright. See you later, then."
With a final nod, Jihoon turned and walked out of Loen's building, the early afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement.
When he arrived back at his apartment complex, he was surprised to spot a petite figure ahead of him, dressed casually in a cap and hoodie.
The way she walked—half-bouncing, half-dragging her feet—was unmistakable.
"Taeyeon!" Jihoon called out.
She turned instinctively, tensing for a second like she thought a fan had recognized her, only to relax the moment she saw who it was.
"Jihoon-ah!" she beamed, waiting for him to catch up.
"What are you doing here?" he asked as he reached her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Why didn't you call first? What if no one was home?"
Taeyeon shrugged with a small grin. "My schedule wrapped up early today, so our manager gave us the rest of the day off."
"The dorm's been kind of depressing lately with all the controversy going on, so I figured... why not drop by? If you weren't home, I'd just turn back."
Jihoon looked at her—really looked at her.
She was smiling, yes, but there were shadows under her eyes, a weight she carried that was too heavy for someone her size.
Without thinking, he reached out and gently ruffled her hair.
"Looks like your luck's not so bad," he said with a soft chuckle. "Come on in."
They reached the apartment, and Jihoon punched in the familiar combination on the keypad.
The door clicked open, and Taeyeon stepped in like she'd done it a hundred times before.
She kicked off her shoes, slipped into the slippers near the door, and flopped down on the couch with a long sigh, arms stretched wide and legs sprawled in every direction.
"I haven't been here in forever!" she said. "Is Jieun at Loen?"
Jihoon walked out of the kitchen with two glasses of water, only to freeze mid-step.
Taeyeon was sprawled comfortably on the sofa like it was her own living room—arms stretched, head tilted back, completely at ease.
But what caught his attention wasn't her posture.
It was the way her skirt had bunched up, revealing just enough to make him his heart race.
From where he stood, a glimpse of bright pink, bunny-printed underwear peeked out from beneath her short skirt—like a rabbit poking out of its burrow, those cheerful bunnies seemingly throwing him a playful wink, teasing him even more.
Blush by the vivid view and the strange sensation it stirred, Jihoon gave her a light kick to the shin, silently urging her to adjust her posture.
Taeyeon shot him a death glare, sticking out her tongue as she adjusted herself. "Geez, you sound like my grandma."
"You're a debut idol now. Try acting like one," Jihoon teased, handing her the glass.
"It's your home! I can do what I want." She took a sip, then added, "So… Jieun's debut is really happening?"
Jihoon nodded, but there was a weight behind the gesture.
"Wow, already? That's fast! We trained for years before debuting," Taeyeon said, visibly impressed.
"She's been at Loen for less than a year, sure," Jihoon said, sinking into the seat beside her. "But she trained with Johan-hyung at SM for a full year before that."
"And she's debuting solo—no dance-heavy performance. Just her voice, a mic, and maybe a few cute moves."
Taeyeon perked up. "You wrote her debut track, right? Let me hear it! Let's see if it beats our debut."
The moment she said it, Jihoon's expression clouded.
"…It's not mine," he said quietly. "She debuted with a song written by someone else. I didn't even know about it until it was too late."
"What?" Taeyeon blinked, confused. "But why would they go with someone else? That doesn't make any sense."
"I was away, shooting in LA. Jieun knew I was swamped, so she didn't tell anyone to contact me. She said she didn't want to bother me."
Jihoon ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in. "And maybe… maybe I was too distracted to notice."
Taeyeon reached over and gently took his hand. "Jihoon… you don't need to blame yourself. Jieun's thoughtful, that's all. She probably just didn't want to add more pressure on you."
Jihoon looked at her, his gaze filled with conflict—but something about the way she held his hand, warm and steady, made the tension begin to ease.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the room felt too quiet.
The distance between them felt smaller than usual.
Maybe it was the rare stillness of the day, or maybe the way her fingers lingered in his.
Neither of them spoke, but the air shifted.
And in that quiet pause, something unspoken passed between them—familiar, uncertain, yet strangely comforting.
It was the first time in a long time they'd been alone like this…
[Author's Note: Heartfelt thanks to Wandererlithe, Night_Adam, Daoist098135 and Daoistadj for bestowing the power stone!]