“Can you send me the names of everyone affected by the restructuring?”
She pulled her laptop back open, and started typing. “I’ll send you the full list. I understand why Min-woo is upset, but personally, I think he’s just blowing off steam.”
“Where is he now?”
“Doing some consulting work for other companies, as far as I know. Living in Seoul, posting bitter things on industry forums about how Starhouse betrayed him.” She met my eyes. “But Min-woo loved Pryzm. He was part of the team that selected them from trainees. I can’t imagine him wanting to hurt Jin.”
“People get strange when they feel betrayed,” I said. “Especially if they think the company chose the talent over them.”
Sunny looked up. “The one who concerns me most is Choi Ji-won. She was the manager of NOVA, the group that just debuted. She was counting on them being Starhouse’s next big thing.”
“And then?”
“And then NOVA’s debut was... modest. Good, but not spectacular. Meanwhile, Pryzm performed the theme song for My Lover from the North, and the movie was selected for an international showcase in Cannes. We were already scheduled for a concert in São Paulo, because of the big Korean population there. But with the movie’s success, the producers invited Pryzm to perform the day after the showing in Cannes. That led to this European tour.”
Sunny met my eyes. “Ji-won was furious when the company allocated extra resources to extend Pryzm’s tour instead of funding more promotion for NOVA. She said some things in meetings that got her reassigned to a junior role.”
“What kind of things?”
“That Pryzm was being overpromoted at the expense of other talent. That Jin specifically was replaceable, that his vocals weren’t strong enough to justify his center position. That if the company wasn’t so invested in protecting him, they’d see he was the weak link.”
My stomach tightened. “When was this?”
“Four months ago. Right around the time someone would have started planning an operation like this.”
I pulled out my phone, started typing notes. “Where is she now?”
“Still with the company. Managing one of our actors, desk work mostly. She has access to the corporate network, tour schedules, personnel files.” Sunny’s voice was careful, controlled. “But Aidan, I’ve worked with Ji-won for three years. She’s ambitious and bitter, yes. But threatening? Violent? I can’t see it.”
“People surprise us when they’re desperate.”
“That’s what worries me.” She looked down at her hands. “These are my colleagues. People I’ve had lunch with, celebrated with, complained about the job with. The idea that one of them wants to hurt Jin...”
“I need you to think about the other managers too,” I said gently. “Anyone who’s shown unusual interest in Pryzm’s schedule. Anyone who’s asked questions they shouldn’t have access to. Anyone whose behavior changed around the time the threats started.”
She nodded slowly. “There’s one other person. Lee Sang-min. He manages Zenith, the senior boy group. They’ve been declining in popularity while Pryzm rises. Sang-min has been... let’s say ‘vocal’ about how the company is abandoning their veteran artists in favor of newer groups.”
“Does he have access to tour details?”
“He’s senior management. He has access to almost everything.” Her eyes widened. “And he was in Cannes, with another manager, Sara Yoon. They said they were there to help but I think they just wanted to go to the festival.”
“And the girl group managers? AURORA and Vanta?”
“AURORA’s new manager, Kim Hae-won, is professional but cold. She doesn’t hide the fact that she thinks boy groups get unfair advantages in international markets. Vanta’s manager, Sara Yoon, is newer. She’s only been with the company eighteen months. She’s eager, maybe too eager. Asks a lot of questions about how other groups operate.”
“Sara Yoon came up and introduced herself to me outside the floating stage in Cannes.”
I was typing as fast as she talked, building a list of names to cross-reference with Richard’s data.
“Here’s what I need from you,” I said. “I need to know if any of these managers, beyond Sara Yoon and Lee Sang-min, have been in Cannes, or Paris, or any of the other upcoming stops, in the past month. Business trips, personal travel, anything. And I need to know who has VPN access to the Starhouse network.”
“All senior managers have VPN access,” Sunny said. “It’s how we work remotely. The technical staff traveling with us do, too, and so does Han Ji-ho; it’s how he posts his social media content. I can pull travel records and expense reports. Give me until morning.”
“Thank you.” I stood to leave, then paused. “One more thing. How do the members of the other groups feel about Pryzm?”
Sunny smiled, and this time it was genuine. “The idols themselves? They’re friends, mostly. They came up through the training system together, shared rooms, practiced together. Haneul and one of the AURORA members are from the same hometown. They’re close. Tae mentors two of the NOVA kids on dance. Min-kyu goes out drinking with the Zenith members when they’re all in Seoul.”
“So the rivalry is management level, not talent level.”