The rumors began like a whisper, soft and insidious, slipping through the cracks of closed doors and hushed meetings. They spoke of dark rituals, of the dead guiding the living, of a woman caught between worlds. For those outside the insular world of K-pop, it sounded like the plot of a supernatural thriller, but for Min Hee-jin, it was the reality she had been thrust into.

She was no stranger to controversy; the entertainment industry thrived on it, after all. But this was different. This wasn’t about a creative dispute or a business disagreement. This was about her deepest fears and vulnerabilities being laid bare for the world to judge. The accusations from HYBE were brutal, almost surreal. They claimed she was being manipulated by a shaman who was channeling the spirit of her deceased sister, guiding her every move as if she were a puppet in some macabre play.

Min remembered the first time she had heard the word "possession" thrown around, not in the context of a horror movie, but as a weapon in a corporate war. It had come from an unexpected source, a former colleague who had been with her during the tumultuous days of SM Entertainment. “They’re saying your sister is controlling you,” he had whispered over the phone, his voice thick with disbelief. “They say the shaman is telling you what to do, that she’s the real power behind ADOR.”

She had laughed then, a bitter, hollow sound that echoed through the empty corridors of her office. It was absurd, a grotesque distortion of the truth. Yes, she had sought the shaman’s counsel. Yes, she had believed, in some small, irrational part of her, that her sister was still with her, offering guidance from beyond the veil. But this? This was a farce, a grotesque caricature of the bond she had shared with her sister, twisted into something ugly and malicious.

But the accusations didn’t stop. They grew, fed by the media’s insatiable hunger for scandal. They painted her as a woman consumed by grief, driven mad by her loss, willing to do anything to hold on to the memory of her sister. They said she had conspired with the shaman to take control of ADOR, that she had leaked confidential information, that she had betrayed the company she had helped build. They accused her of using NewJeans as pawns in her twisted game, of manipulating the young artists to shield her from the consequences of her actions.

She could feel the walls closing in, the whispers growing louder, more insistent. Even within ADOR, the atmosphere had changed. There were side-glances, hurried conversations that stopped when she entered the room. She knew the signs. She had seen them before, in other companies, in other lives. It was the scent of betrayal, the quiet rot that spread through an organization when trust had been shattered.

NewJeans had tried to shield her, bless them. They had stood by her in that press conference, their young faces pale but determined as they demanded her reinstatement. They had pleaded with HYBE to bring her back, to let her guide them as she had always done. But she could see the toll it was taking on them, the strain in their smiles, the tremor in their voices. They were so young, too young to be caught up in this mess. She wanted to protect them, but how could she, when she couldn’t even protect herself?.

The shaman had warned her this would happen. She had seen it in her dreams, or so she had said. “They will turn against you,” she had whispered, her voice low and urgent. “They will try to destroy you. But you are strong, Min. You have your sister with you. You will survive this.”

But the shaman was gone now, vanished like smoke on the wind. Min didn’t know where she had gone, only that she had left just as the storm was reaching its peak. Had she abandoned her? Or had she seen something so terrible in her visions that she had fled? Min would probably never know.

What she did know was that she was alone, truly alone, for the first time in a long time. And it terrified her.

She had fought so hard to get here, to carve out a place for herself in an industry that was notorious for chewing up women and spitting them out. She had built ADOR from the ground up, nurtured NewJeans with all the love and care of a mother. And now it was all slipping through her fingers, like sand in an hourglass.

The meeting room was empty, save for her. The long table stretched out before her, a barren landscape of polished wood and empty chairs. She could almost see the ghosts of her colleagues, the board members who had once been her allies, now turned against her. She had fought them in this very room, argued, pleaded, demanded. And for what? To be cast aside like a broken toy when they were done with her?

Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. A message from her lawyer, no doubt. Another update on the injunction, another piece of the puzzle that was her shattered career. She stared at it for a long moment, then turned it face down on the table. She didn’t want to know. Not right now. She just wanted a moment of peace, a moment to breathe before the next wave hit.

But peace was a luxury she could no longer afford. She knew that. She could feel the storm gathering outside, the air thick with the promise of violence and betrayal. There would be no respite, no mercy. Not in this world.

She stood, her legs trembling, and walked to the window. The city stretched out before her, a maze of lights and shadows, pulsing with life. Somewhere out there, people were waking up, starting their day, unaware of the drama playing out in the boardrooms and back offices of ADOR and HYBE. Unaware of the battles being fought in silence and shadow.

But soon, they would know. Soon, the whole world would know.

Min Hee-jin took a deep breath and turned away from the window. She had a fight to win, and she would win it, no matter what it took.

The sound of silence was broken, and she was ready to make some noise.