The seedy billiards hall was a tomb, and Nam Gyu-ri was its resident ghost. Han Yoo-jin's audacious offer—a chance to destroy their mutual enemies—hung in the stale, smoky air between them. Gyu-ri stared at him, the deadness in his eyes slowly receding, replaced by a flicker of his old, calculating intelligence.
Then, a slow, incredulous, and deeply cynical smile spread across his unshaven face. It was a ghastly sight, a predator reawakening in the ruins of its own making. He let out a short, dry chuckle that sounded like stones rattling in a tin can.
"Destroy Ryu? Burn Stellar to the ground?" Gyu-ri repeated, his voice a gravelly ruin. He picked up a piece of chalk and began meticulously rubbing it on the tip of his cue, his movements deliberate and mocking. "You walk into my tomb, Yoo-jin, and you offer me my own revenge, gift-wrapped and tied with a bow. It's almost poetic."
He circled the pool table, his movements no longer heavy with despair but imbued with a new, predatory grace. He was sizing Yoo-jin up, not as a hated rival, but as a potential business partner.
"So tell me," Gyu-ri said, his eyes glinting under the flickering fluorescent light. "Why? The great Han Yoo-jin, the Midas of K-pop, the man with the golden touch who sees all the angles… can't handle his own problems? Don't tell me you've finally found a battle you can't win." He was baiting him, but beneath the mockery was a genuine curiosity. He needed to understand the depth of Yoo-jin's desperation.
Yoo-jin did not rise to the bait. He knew that any attempt to posture or lie would be sniffed out immediately. His only advantage was the truth.
"Because Ryu is not a rational actor," Yoo-jin stated, his voice calm and completely honest. "And Chairman Choi has declared a war I cannot win with conventional tactics. You know how they both think. You built Ryu's digital toolkit from the ground up; you know his methods, his backdoors, his psychological triggers. You worked under Chairman Choi's shadow for years before you left Stellar; you understand his pathological vanity, his pressure points. I am outmatched in this specific arena. I need a weapon that operates on their level. And right now," Yoo-jin finished, his gaze unwavering, "you are the most dangerous and knowledgeable weapon I can find."
The raw, unvarnished honesty of the admission—that he, Han Yoo-jin, was outmatched—was a strategic masterstroke. It was a balm on Gyu-ri's shattered ego, a confirmation that his unique, twisted genius was still valuable, still feared.
Gyu-ri stopped circling and leaned against the far side of the table, resting his cue beside him. The predator was done assessing. Now, it was time to negotiate the terms of the hunt.
"My help isn't free, Yoo-jin," he said, his voice losing its mocking tone and taking on a sharp, business-like edge. "And I don't want your money. I've learned that money is just paper. I want something far more valuable. I want resurrection."
He held up a single, grimy finger. "Term number one: The credit. When this is over, when Ryu is a forgotten footnote and Stellar Entertainment is a smoldering crater, the world will not credit you. The narrative will be that I, Nam Gyu-ri, orchestrated their downfall. That I was playing the long game all along, that my disappearance was a strategic retreat before my triumphant return. You will be my silent, invisible partner. My reputation will be restored not as a spectacular failure, but as a ruthless mastermind who came back from the dead to claim his throne."
He held up a second finger. "Term number two: The asset. I am a general without an army or an armory. I need resources. A secure, untraceable location to operate from. A new set of top-of-the-line hardware, procured through channels you control. And," he added, his eyes narrowing, "I need access to your 'spymaster.' The little prodigy who so cleverly dismantled my Kai project. Oh Min-ji. I don't need her loyalty. I need her skills. She will work with me."
This was a major test. He was asking for Yoo-jin's most brilliant human asset, a move designed to see how much control Yoo-jin was truly willing to cede.
Before Yoo-jin could respond, Gyu-ri held up a third finger. "And finally, term number three: The prize. After we are done, after our enemies are dust, you will help me rebuild. You will give me one of your artists."
"Absolutely not," Yoo-jin interjected, his voice like ice.
"Not your stars," Gyu-ri clarified smoothly, waving a dismissive hand. "I don't want Da-eun or any of your established idols. Their success is already tied to your name. I want a trainee. An uncut gem from your system, one that your Eye has already identified as having potential. You will give her to me, along with a production budget and a five-year operating fund for my own, new, independent label. I will use your methods and my talent to forge my own empire, starting with a piece of your future. It will be the ultimate proof of my return."
The terms were monstrous. They were parasitic. Gyu-ri was asking for Yoo-jin's public credit, his most brilliant employee, and a seed from his own garden to grow a rival empire. It was a true devil's bargain.
Yoo-jin's mind raced, his Producer's Eye activating instinctively, analyzing the proposal not as a business deal, but as a complex, high-risk variable.
[Analyzing Proposal: 'Unholy Alliance']
[Probability of Betrayal by Nam Gyu-ri: 95% (Post-conflict)]
[Analysis: Subject's core personality makes long-term alliance untenable. He will inevitably attempt to usurp or destroy his partner once all mutual enemies are eliminated.]
[Probability of Success against Ryu/Stellar (with alliance): 78%]
[Probability of Success against Ryu/Stellar (without alliance): 12%]
The data was as stark and brutal as the man standing before him. Gyu-ri would almost certainly turn on him the moment their shared goals were met. But without him, failure was a near certainty. It was a choice between guaranteed destruction now and probable betrayal later. He had to choose the future where he at least had a chance to fight another day.
Yoo-jin looked Nam Gyu-ri dead in the eye, his decision made. "We have a deal, on three conditions of my own."
Gyu-ri raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"First, you get Min-ji's help, but she answers only to me. She is my asset, on loan. Her safety and well-being are non-negotiable. If you cross that line, our deal is over. Second, the trainee will be my choice, and the contract will include a buy-back clause that I can exercise at any time. Third, the credit for destroying our enemies… is yours."
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Gyu-ri's face. He had gotten what he wanted. He pushed himself off the table and extended a hand across the green felt. "Then we have a deal, partner."
Yoo-jin reached out and shook it. Gyu-ri's hand was cold and clammy, the handshake feeling less like a business agreement and more like sealing a pact with a corpse.
Just as they released their grip, Yoo-jin's phone vibrated. He pulled it out. It was a text message from Min-young.
It was exactly 8 PM.
The message contained a single line of text: an address. The location for Da-eun's concert. He had to leave the demon he had just allied with to join the defiant angel he had to protect on an entirely different, and very public, battlefield.