From A Producer To A Chapter 231: Studio

Chapter 231: Studio

Leonard Crowe.

Male. Late sixties.

This one surprised him.

Leonard was still active—very active. He was a respected figure in the movie industry, known as a "kingmaker." A man whose approval could launch international stars or quietly blacklist them.

Michael had t Leonard several tis.

He had even shaken his hand.

Leonard smiled easily. Spoke warmly. Offered praise like candy.

And yet...

He owned him without him knowing looking back now Micheal feel stupid now "Gosh."

Michael opened the deeper file.

What stared back made his chest tighten.

Bribery trails. Silent settlents. Coercive contracts masked as "developnt deals." Actors and directors locked into agreents they could never exit without financial ruin.

Leonard didn’t just control movies.

He controlled people.

Michael exhaled slowly.

"So that’s it," he said. "Three of you."

Two n. One woman.

All older. All entrenched. All protected by ti, money, and silence.

For years, they had leaned on him. Guided him. Reminded him who helped him rise when he was still clawing for relevance. They never ordered him outright—but the expectation was clear.

Control the industry.

Shape narratives.

Suppress threats.

And recently, their focus had narrowed.

Dayo.

Michael’s fingers tightened.

That was where the problem began.

For the first ti in his career, Michael had hesitated.

Dayo wasn’t like the others. He didn’t need permission. He didn’t follow the established ladders. And more importantly—he didn’t fear losing access.

That made him unpredictable.

The puppeteers had noticed.

They had begun asking questions.

Why isn’t he being steered?

Why hasn’t he been slowed down?

Why is he allowed to grow unchecked?

And when Michael qcter against Dayo it one way or the other finds a way to blow back whivh made the pressure from the three so much that ot was then Michael realize that he was no king in music industry just soone that was entitled and he could be peach out if he doesnt follow their instructions.

But of causing since the Dayo’s issue was causing him a lot of troubles...

He stopped interfering in Dayo’s affairs months ago—not out of kindness, but survival. Dayo was becoming sothing else. Sothing that didn’t fit the old rules.

And Michael wasn’t ready to choose that battle yet.

Not without leverage.

He looked back at the screen.

Now, he had it not against Dayo but does above him.

The investigations had finally borne fruit. Quiet audits. Anonymous tips. Financial cross-checks routed through jurisdictions no one expected him to touch.

And he could escape from their grass with what he has.

He hadn’t gone after their public faces.

He had gone after their taxes.

Every empire feared one thing more than scandal.

Paper trails.

Michael’s lips curved faintly.

"You taught

well," he said softly. "You just didn’t expect

to learn this part."

He stood and walked slowly around the desk, hands clasped behind his back.

For twenty years, he had played the role assigned to him. The rising executive. The loyal interdiary. The man who enforced balance in the industry.

But balance was just another word for control.

And he was done being controlled.

He didn’t plan to expose them outright. Not yet.

That would be crude.

No—he would chip away.

Small pressure points.

Subtle leverage.

A delayed audit here.

A blocked transfer there.

Enough to make them uneasy.

Enough to remind them that he was no longer just their instrunt.

Michael returned to his chair and sat down, eyes steady.

"One enemy at a ti," he said quietly.

Dayo wasn’t his enemy..... at least not yet.

If anything... Dayo was proof that the old order was cracking.

Michael closed the files one by one.

The ga was changing.

And for the first ti in decades, Michael wasn’t reacting.

He was planning.

***

Morning in Korea ca quietly.

Dayo woke up naturally, without an alarm, his body already adjusted after a full day back. The unfamiliar ceiling no longer felt strange. It was one of those mornings where everything felt aligned—no rush, no pressure, just readiness.

He got out of bed, stretched lightly, and headed straight for his routine.

Jog first.

The streets were calm, still half-asleep. Dayo moved at an easy pace, breathing steady, thoughts clear. No caras. No noise. Just movent. By the ti he returned, a thin layer of sweat clung to his skin, and his mind felt sharp.

After a quick shower, he moved into the kitchen.

Breakfast in Korea style.

Gukbap Rice and soup combo, like beef and vegetable-based.

After more than thirty minutes in the kitchen.

He had just sat down when his phone buzzed.

Min-Jae.

Dayo glanced at the ti and frowned slightly before answering.

"Yo," he said. "What’s up?"

"I’m outside," Min-Jae replied casually.

Dayo blinked. "Outside where?"

"Your place."

"...Min-Jae," Dayo said slowly, "you said ten."

"It is around ten," Min-Jae replied without sha.

Dayo let out a quiet laugh. "You’re unbelievable. Why don’t you co up and eat sothing?"

There was a pause.

"...Eat?"

"Yes," Dayo said. "Food."

Min-Jae sounded offended. "You’re telling

I missed breakfast?"

"You definitely did."

A minute later, the door opened.

Min-Jae stepped in, eyes imdiately drawn to the table.

He stared.

Then stared so more.

"...Why does this look like a Korean al?"

Dayo shrugged. "Old habits."

Min-Jae sat down slowly tasted. "Bro. You cook Korean food like you grew up here. Sotis I honestly wonder."

"One of my perks, of being a cheff" Dayo replied calmly.

"Brag." Min-Jae muttered Dayo’s just smiled.

They ate in comfortable silence at first. Min-Jae didn’t hold back.

"This is good," he said between bites. "Too good."

Dayo smiled faintly. "Eat."

When they were done, Min-Jae leaned back, satisfied.

"Alright," he said. "Let’s go. Kansai Studio is waiting."

"Nice na Kansai." Dayo nodded.

They headed out together, the car ride easy, conversation light. No schedules being forced. No tension. Just two people who had known each other long enough not to fill every silence.

As the studio ca into view, Min-Jae glanced at Dayo.

"So," he said casually, "how are you feeling?"

Dayo thought about it for a mont.

"I don’t really know how to explain it," he admitted. " first I’ve been a producer. Then An artist. An athlete."

He paused.

"And now... I’m stepping into directing properly."

Min-Jae chuckled. "You’re an alien."

Dayo smiled. "Yeah. I know."

"It’s crazy," Min-Jae continued. "Most people struggle to be one thing. You keep changing lanes like it’s nothing."

"It’s not nothing," Dayo replied. "It just... feels right."

They pulled into the studio compound.

People were already moving around—assistants, crew mbers, equipnt being wheeled in. The atmosphere was focused but calm.

As Dayo stepped out of the car, sothing settled in his chest.

This wasn’t pressure.

It was familiarity.

Min-Jae watched him quietly for a second before speaking.

"You ready?"

Dayo nodded. "Yeah."

They walked in together.

And just like that, the next phase began.