For Cha Do-hyun, the sensation of a knife entering the gut was surprisingly similar to a stock market crash.
It was sharp, sudden, and followed immediately by the realization that he had lost everything.
Cha Do-hyun wasn't a celebrity. He was the man who owned them. He was the Cleaner for the biggest conglomerate in South Korea, a shark in a suit who laundered money through failing agencies and buried the careers of artists who didn't listen.
Sharks aren't supposed to die in back alleys, stabbed by a disposal tool hired for cheap.
Rule number one of business, Do-hyun thought, his consciousness fading into the cold concrete. Never leave loose ends.
He had failed his own rule.
Darkness took him. He expected Hell. He expected a void.
What he didn't expect was the smell of cheap instant noodles and the sound of a whiny voice screaming in his ear.
"Hey! Han Seo-jun! Get up, you useless trash!"
The man's eyes snapped open.
The pain in his gut was gone, replaced by a dull ache in his thighs...muscle fatigue. He wasn't in an alley. He was lying on the floor of a practice room lined with mirrors, the air thick with the stench of adolescent sweat. Looming over him was a man in a cheap tracksuit, holding a clipboard like a weapon.
"Are you deaf?" the manager barked, kicking his shin. "I said get up! The evaluation is in ten minutes, and you're sleeping on the floor? Do you want to be cut?"
Do-hyun stared at the man.
Name tag: Manager Kim. Cheap watch. Fake leather shoes. Stress balding on the crown.
His brain, honed by twenty years of corporate warfare, rebooted instantly.
He stood up. His center of gravity was different. Lighter. He looked at the wall-to-wall mirror.
The reflection staring back wasn't his 30-year-old scarred face. It was a boy.
Pale skin. Doe eyes. Unnatural platinum silver hair. A jawline sharp enough to cut glass. The boy in the mirror was sweating, trembling, and looked like he was about to cry.
I see, Do-hyun analyzed coldly. Reincarnation. Or possession. The metaphysical mechanics are irrelevant. What matters is the asset value.
He stepped closer to the mirror, ignoring the screaming manager. He grabbed his own chin, turning his head left, then right.
Symmetry: Perfect. Skin texture: Grade A. Height: Approximately 182cm. This body... is a blue-chip stock.
"Are you ignoring me?!" Manager Kim roared, grabbing his shoulder. "You think because you have a pretty face you can slack off? You're F-Rank trash! You can't sing, you can't dance, and the company is drowning in debt because of trainees like you!"
The manager raised his hand to slap him.
It was a slow, clumsy motion. In his past life, Do-hyun dealt with gangsters who used sashimi knives. This was pathetic.
He caught the wrist mid-air.
"Huh?" The manager froze.
Do-hyun didn't squeeze hard. He simply applied pressure to the ulnar nerve. The manager yelped and dropped to his knees.
"Listen closely," Do-hyun said. His voice was different. It was soft, melodic, youthful. But the intonation was pure steel. "You mentioned debt. How much?"
"L-Let go! You crazy..."
"I asked for the quarterly deficit," Do-hyun smiled.
It wasn't a nice smile. The corners of his mouth hooked up unnaturally high, his eyes gleaming with the cold light of a calculator. It was the face of a man who had just found a loophole in a contract.
"How much debt is this body attached to?"
Before the manager could stutter an answer, a translucent blue window shattered the air.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE]
[Welcome, Host.]
Current Identity: Han Seo-jun (Trainee)
Status: The Agency's Burden.
Total Debt Liability: 5.2 Billion Won ($4 Million USD).
Condition: If the debt is not serviced within 3 years via "Idol Activities," the Host will face [Liquidation].
He stared at the number. 5.2 Billion.
For a normal 19-year-old, this was a death sentence. A tragedy. A reason to jump off a bridge.
But Cha Do-hyun looked at the number, and then at his reflection...at the face that could sell millions of albums, cosmetics, and luxury brand deals if marketed correctly.
His lips curled up.
His eyes gleamed with the greed of a starving wolf.
"Only 5 Billion?" he whispered, suppressing a laugh. "I can make that in a week."
He looked down at the terrified manager on his knees.
"Get up, Manager Kim," he ordered, dusting off his tracksuit. "Cancel the evaluation."
"W-What?"
"We're not doing an evaluation," Do-hyun said, walking toward the door. "We're going to the CEO's office. I need to renegotiate my contract before I save this garbage company."
[System Alert]
Host has successfully intimidated the CEO.
Karma Points: +100
Trait [Scum] is purring with delight.
"Let's go," he muttered, cracking his neck. "Time to make some money."
The office of StarDust Entertainment's CEO smelled of cheap air freshener and desperation.
Seo-jun didn't wait for an invitation. He kicked the door shut behind him and walked straight to the leather sofa,the only expensive item in the room,and sat down, crossing his legs.
CEO Park, a chubby man with grease stains on his tie, looked up from his computer in shock.
"Ya! Han Seo-jun! Who told you to come in here? And get your feet off the table!"
Seo-jun didn't flinch. He simply scanned the room.
Piles of unpaid invoices on the desk. A golf club in the corner, probably to look rich, but it's a knock-off brand. This company isn't just failing; it's rotting.
"CEO Park," Seo-jun said, his voice calm and melodic. He picked up a contract lying on the coffee table and began reading it casually. "I heard you're planning to sell the building to pay off the loan sharks."
CEO Park's face turned pale. "How... how did you know that? Who told you?"
"Nobody had to tell me. I saw your car," Seo-jun replied, flipping a page. "You downgraded from a Genesis to a used Carnival. You're liquidating assets. Which means you're desperate."
Seo-jun looked up. His eyes, usually large and innocent, narrowed into half-moons. It was the look of a predator spotting a wounded gazelle.
"If you sell the building now, the market will eat you alive. You'll get 70% of the value at best."
"You crazy punk..." CEO Park stood up, trembling with rage. "You're just a trainee! A trainee with F-rank vocals! Get out before I terminate your contract!"
"Terminate it?" Seo-jun laughed. It was a dry, chilling sound.
He stood up and walked to the CEO's desk. He slammed his hand down on the wood...hard.
"If you terminate me, you lose the government subsidy for 'Youth Cultural Development' that relies on having at least five active trainees. You need me to keep the lights on."
CEO Park froze. He looked at the handsome boy in front of him. This was Han Seo-jun...the shy, untalented kid who used to cry when he got yelled at. But the aura radiating off him now felt like a majestic mountain... or a terrifying boss.
"Sit down, Park," Seo-jun commanded.
And to the CEO's horror, his legs obeyed. He sat.
"Good," Seo-jun smiled, leaning in close. "Now, let's discuss the survival show. I'm not going there to be eliminated. I'm going there to win. But I need you to do exactly what I say."
[System Alert]
Host has successfully intimidated the CEO.
Karma Points: +100
Trait [Scum] is purring with delight.
"First," Seo-jun said, pointing at the CEO's computer. "Fire the vocal trainer. He's expensive and useless. I'll train the boys myself."
"You?" CEO Park sputtered. "You're tone-deaf!"
"I don't need to sing to train them," Seo-jun said, checking his fingernails. "I just need to break their spirits and rebuild them into profitable products. Trust me. I'm an expert at restructuring distressed assets."