The conference room was filled with an uneasy silence, the kind that crackled with tension and unspoken words. Min Hee-jin stood at the head of the long, polished table, her fingers gripping the edge like it was a lifeline. Around her, a small group of loyalists—her legal team, a few remaining allies from ADOR, and the exhausted faces of NewJeans—sat in various states of discomfort, waiting for her to speak.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly noon, but the day already felt like a lifetime. So much had changed in just a few hours. The morning had begun with another round of media frenzy, the tabloids filled with new accusations, each one more outlandish than the last. One article had even claimed that she was planning to flee the country, to start over in some distant land with NewJeans by her side. She had laughed bitterly when she read that one. Fleeing wasn’t an option. Not anymore.
“Thank you all for coming,” she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside her. “I know it’s been difficult. I know you’re tired. But we have to push through this.”
There were nods around the table, weary but determined. They were all in this together now, caught in the web that had been spun around them by forces beyond their control.
“I’ve spoken with my lawyers,” she continued, glancing at the two men and one woman seated to her right. They looked back at her with expressions of quiet resolve, the kind that came from long nights spent poring over legal documents and preparing for the battles ahead. “We’ve filed another injunction to prevent HYBE from exercising their voting rights at the next shareholders' meeting.”
There were murmurs of approval, but also concern. They all knew how precarious their position was. HYBE held the majority of the shares in ADOR, and their influence was suffocating. The court ruling that had temporarily stripped them of their rights had been a victory, but a fragile one. It could be overturned at any moment, leaving Min and her team vulnerable once again.
“What about the press?” one of her allies, a mid-level manager who had been with ADOR from the beginning, asked. “They’re saying terrible things. If we don’t get ahead of this, the public is going to turn against us.”
Min sighed, running a hand through her hair. The media had always been a double-edged sword, one that she had wielded with precision in the past. But now, it seemed to be turning on her, feeding on the drama and the spectacle, turning her pain into entertainment.
“We’ll hold another press conference,” she said finally. “But this time, we need to be strategic. We can’t let them twist our words again.”
“What about NewJeans?” a voice piped up. It was Hanni, one of the youngest members of the group. Her eyes were wide and anxious, and Min’s heart ached for her. They were all so young, too young to be dragged into this war.
“We stand by Min Hee-jin,” Minji said, her voice firm despite the fear that flickered in her eyes. “We’ve already said that. But we need to do more.”
Min nodded, proud of their courage but also terrified for what it might cost them. “You’ve all been incredible,” she said softly. “But I don’t want you to put yourselves in harm’s way. This fight is mine.”
“It’s ours,” Danielle said, her voice steady. “We wouldn’t be here without you. And we’re not going to abandon you now.”
Min felt tears prick at her eyes, but she blinked them away. There was no time for weakness. Not now.
“Then we’ll fight together,” she said, her voice stronger now, filled with the determination that had carried her this far. “But we have to be smart. We have to be careful.”
They spent the next hour strategizing, going over every possible scenario, every move HYBE might make, every counter they could deploy. It was like preparing for battle, each word a weapon, each decision a shield. The stakes were higher than they had ever been, and the consequences of failure were unthinkable.
As the meeting wound down, one of her lawyers, a sharp-eyed woman with a reputation for being ruthless in the courtroom, spoke up.
“There’s something else you need to know,” she said, her voice low and serious. “HYBE is planning to leak more information about the shaman.”
Min felt her stomach drop. Of course, they were. It was the one card they still held, the one piece of the puzzle that could destroy everything.
“What kind of information?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Personal details,” the lawyer replied. “They have transcripts of your conversations. They’re going to make it sound like you were conspiring with her to take over the company. They’re going to use it to prove you’re unfit to lead.”
Min closed her eyes, fighting the wave of nausea that rose within her. She had known this would happen, had known they would use every weapon at their disposal. But it still hurt, still felt like a betrayal on a level she couldn’t quite comprehend.
“What do we do?” someone asked, the question hanging in the air like a challenge.
Min opened her eyes, the fire of defiance burning through the fear. “We tell the truth,” she said, her voice steady and unyielding. “We tell them everything.”
There were gasps around the table, murmurs of shock and disbelief. But Min stood firm, her gaze locked on her team, her family.
“It’s the only way,” she said softly. “We’ve been fighting shadows, trying to defend ourselves against lies. It’s time to bring everything into the light.”
They looked at her, the fear still there but something else too—hope, belief. And it was enough.
“Let’s do it,” one of her allies said, and there were murmurs of agreement.
Min nodded, feeling the strength of their support like a lifeline, anchoring her in the storm. They would face this together, no matter what it cost them.
The war was far from over, but they had taken the first step. They had chosen to fight, not with secrets and shadows, but with the truth. And in the end, that was all they had.
As they filed out of the room, Min turned back to the window, watching the city below. The storm clouds were gathering, dark and menacing, but she felt a strange sense of peace.
They had taken everything from her—her position, her reputation, her peace of mind. But they couldn’t take her voice. They couldn’t take the truth.
And that, she knew, was something worth fighting for.
