Chapter 298: The Chosen Artist.
Dayo deliberately slowed his steps as they walked down the corridor.
Normally, he would be at the front not because he needed to be, but because that was how things had always fallen into place. His stride was naturally longer, his presence naturally pulling people along with him. Today, however, he stepped back slightly, letting Min-Jae walk ahead.
It was a small thing. Intentional.
He didn’t want to be seen yet.
Min-Jae noticed, of course. He always did. But he didn’t comnt. He simply adjusted his pace and continued forward as if this was how it had always been. This way, people would assu Min-Jae carried the weight of the company. Dayo remained unexposed.
They reached the eting hall together.
The mont the doors opened, the atmosphere shifted.
Every artist inside stood up almost instantly.
Chairs scraped softly against the floor. Heads bowed. The movent was sharp, disciplined—reflexive. Respect mixed with fear, the kind that only appeared when the CEO himself showed up sowhere he usually didn’t.
A discovery eting.
For Min-Jae to be here in person ant one of two things: sothing very important, or sothing very wrong.
Today, it was important.
Min-Jae raised a hand calmly as he took his seat first.
"Sit down."
The room obeyed.
Dayo stepped in behind him, quiet and observant. Many eyes flickered toward him—curious, uncertain. So recognized him vaguely. Others didn’t. To most of them, he was simply soone close to Min-Jae.
Those who recognized him were shocked. They knew him as the director once accused of mistreating his actors. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was why he was here—with their CEO.
No one in the room knew who truly owned the ground they were standing on belong mostly to Dayo.
That Dayo was the majority shareholder of this company and held more power than Min-Jae they feared and this was why he choose to keep it a secret as it would do more harm than good of them knowing.
Min-Jae turned to face them.
"We’re here to select three people," he said plainly. "This is for a music feature project. A serious one."
A murmur rippled through the artists.
Three.
Only three.
This alone made it serious. Min-Jae hadn’t sent an assistant. He hadn’t delegated. He ca himself. That ant the project was big—big enough to shake the industry so everyone wants to be selected.
Excitent sparked imdiately quick, sharp, uncontrollable. So artists straightened in their seats. Others exchanged glances. A few already looked disappointed, as if they’d lost before anything had even begun.
Min-Jae continued, "There will be no audition today. No performance or demonstration. Just sit. When you’re picked, stand."
The murmurs stopped.
Confusion spread instead. How would they choose without auditions? Without anyone proving themselves? Hands tightened. Silent prayers filled the room.
Min-Jae glanced sideways, briefly, at Dayo.
Dayo nodded once.
Then he moved forward.
He walked slowly along the line of artists, his expression calm and unreadable. He didn’t rush. He didn’t pretend to deliberate. His eyes t faces briefly before moving on.
To them, it looked random.
No questions.
No instructions.
Nothing.
Just walking. Observing.
Inside, however, Dayo saw everything.
Pitch stability.
Breath control.
Vocal texture compatibility.
Emotional delivery range.
Adaptability under pressure.
Stats aligned and rearranged effortlessly in his mind. Perfect Match filtered noise from truth, hype from substance.
He wasn’t just looking for talent.
He was looking for the right fit.
Anyone below seventy percent was filtered out.
Slowly, the decision ford.
He stopped.
Pointed toward the far end on his left.
"You."
Then another.
"And you."
Three nas. Three stunned faces.
The room went silent.
Jealousy crept in imdiately. It always did. So artists tried to hide it. Others didn’t bother. Confusion hung thick—Why them? How were they chosen?
It felt unfair. Random.
But who were they to question a decision already approved by the CEO?
Min-Jae didn’t let the tension linger.
"For those who weren’t selected," he said calmly, "this doesn’t an you’re being sidelined. Everyone here has ongoing projects. Stay focused. Your ti will co."
No one argued.
Power didn’t need to shout.
The three selected artists were called forward. Dayo handed each of them a folder.
"Your songs," he said simply. "You have one week. Learn them. Understand them. Make them yours. We record after that. Don’t disappoint."
One of them hesitated, took a deep breath, then asked the question on all three of their minds.
"Sir... who are we featuring?"
Dayo glanced at Min-Jae.
Min-Jae smiled faintly. "You’ll know when it’s ti."
That ended the discussion.
They bowed and left, curiosity burning brighter than before.
One week passed quickly.
Work resud its rhythm.
Although Luna still crossed Dayo’s mind, he was getting better—or rather, he didn’t allow himself to rember too much. He poured his entire being into music instead.
In that week, he went ho no more than twice.
Recording sessions filled the days. Practice rooms echoed late into the night. Dayo stayed busy—too busy to think. It helped.
Yura, especially, had changed.
Her confidence was visible now, no longer forced. The song he gave her fit her perfectly. She smiled more. Sang freer. The hesitation that once crept into her voice was gone.
During their final session of the day, she laughed softly as she removed her headphones.
"This song..." she said. "It feels complete."
She was genuinely happy. For a long ti, she’d felt pressured—unable to find a song that truly suited her. Having one now felt like a blessing.
Dayo nodded. "Because you stopped doubting it."
She looked at him, then smiled again.
Just then, his phone vibrated.
Valerie.
He stepped aside and answered. "What’s up?"
"Everything’s set," Valerie said. "Blake will be in Korea very soon. Expect his call today."
Dayo exhaled slowly. "Alright. I’ll be ready."
He ended the call and stared briefly at the screen.
At that mont, Min-Jae’s assistant walked in and bowed.
"Sir, the three artists you asked for are waiting."
Dayo nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.
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