Chapter 13. Scandal?
Corvos woke up as the morning light streamed through the window, dancing on the curtains gently swaying in the breeze.
The clock showed nearly 7 a.m., but the house was still silent.
He got out of bed, grooming himself meticulously as usual, but did not forget to observe every small detail in the house.
Juwel's room was empty.
Not seeing Juwel in the room or any sign of his recent presence, Corvos was not surprised. When he reached the living room, Corvos saw the note that Juwel had left. He did not reveal much to Corvos, only mentioning that he had urgent work and needed to arrive early, and of course, he reminded Corvos not to do anything shady while he was gone.
Corvos read it calmly, folded the note, threw it into the trash in the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water to drink.
Click…clack, clack.
Rustle!
The office was quiet, so the sound of papers turning and keyboard typing was very clear.
Juwel sat upright on the chair, his blue eyes focused on the CEO across from him. She pushed a tablet toward him, the screen showing a video playing.
Juwel glanced at it and immediately recognized himself in the video. A deserted alley, dim lights shining down. He was leaning against a utility pole, a cigarette loosely held between two fingers. A faint white smoke drifted from his tightly pressed lips, his sharp eyes staring into the distance, radiating a sad and slightly contemplative aura.
It was unclear who recorded the footage, but the angle was quite good, the hazy light making the atmosphere in the video even more captivating.
Below the video were a series of comments. Some were harshly condemning, saying smoking damaged the image of the artist, destroying the carefully built original image. He was not experienced in this field but still realized the situation was developing beyond control.
She lightly touched the tablet in front of her.
"We've already discussed with the media department. You've seen the netizens' feedback. They are genuinely interested in this side of you. If handled properly, this scandal could open the way for a new approach to the public. There is only one condition: you have to cooperate with the company."
Juwel didn't fully understand the rules of this world yet, but he knew one thing: wherever there are eyes, there are judgments. Appearing online meant floating among hundreds of uncontrollable reactions.
Currently, Juwel still could not distinguish whether the netizens' reactions to "Juwel smoking" were from biased feelings or because he had really done something wrong. From the CEO's words, Juwel could subtly understand that this secretly recorded video was not as serious as he thought, and they seemed not to need a correction. But an intuition told him that something was not right here.
He interrupted her, his voice still gentle but his eyes carrying determination:
"Ms Kim, sorry… but the person in the video is not me. I don't think staying silent is right if people are misunderstanding. The first thing is to clarify. If needed, I'm willing to cooperate to make it clear."
She did not immediately respond. Her face, usually calm, seemed to pause for a beat. After a moment of contemplation, she put her pen down and clasped her hands together. She did not believe Juwel's words at all. That area was clearly near Juwel's house. However, it did not matter because they never intended to clarify who was right or wrong. This was an opportunity to exploit.
"Juwel." She spoke slowly, but this time her tone was no longer gentle and persuasive. It carried the authority of someone accustomed to making decisions.
"You still don't understand what this industry is. In this field, right and wrong don't matter. What matters is what the public sees. And what the company needs from your image."
Some things do not need to be made clear. What is needed is proper guidance. The public only wants to see what they want to see. That is how this industry operates, and she does not need to explain that to a small-time artist.
More importantly, the number of searches for the name Juwel had quadrupled in just half a night. Who knows how much money could be made from that.
She pushed a thin folder toward Juwel.
"This is the plan to reshape your image. We will show the audience a different version of Juwel: mature, determined, no longer the 'good person to the point of vulnerability'. An image that the market will start responding positively to when you comeback."
She paused to make sure he was listening. Then, more directly:
"There is no time to adapt. We don't ask the artist's feelings. We demand the effectiveness of the strategy. This is the rule of the industry. No one waits for you to understand before executing."
Juwel understood his situation. He had no voice here. Honestly, this was the first time Juwel truly experienced being powerless. Despite his family's decline in his previous life due to the sudden family annihilation, the Rosabrella family would not collapse so easily. He still had relatives to help.
As a pawn, Juwel only obeyed the king. And because he still had a certain degree of real power in the righteous world, the king did not completely ignore his words. Even when hiding in the underworld, Juwel relied on his abilities to survive because the rules of that world did not contradict his usual methods: violence, struggle.
Juwel had never needed to yield at any point.
But Juwel knew what would happen to someone with no power at all.
Still, that was not what Juwel cared about.
"I understand the company is under pressure. I don't want to completely deny my responsibility. But I need to understand everything clearly before changing anything."
She frowned.
"If there really are misunderstandings, I hope to explain instead of changing things."
Clearly, having to change one's own nature for a job was the most meaningless thing Juwel had ever heard. Juwel was never someone who changed for the environment. He was someone who changed the environment to fit himself.
Juwel did not deny that this image-change situation would benefit him, because he possessed all the traits mentioned.
But he had also promised the original body owner that he would protect his life. This scandal was his fault, so Juwel would not let the original body be involved in it.
Once again, she closed the folder, this time with a crisp "thud".
She leaned toward him, each word falling sharply:
"This is no longer about what you want. It's about what the company needs to salvage the image that has been torn apart out there. If you don't cooperate, we will handle it in another way. But I warn you, this is a turning point. If you cannot keep up, you will be pushed out of this machine."
She stood up, her gaze resolute:
"I will come back when you are ready to act, not to argue."
The door closed behind her.
In the room, only the steady hum of the air conditioner remained, the cold seeping through the door gap. Juwel closed his eyes slightly, calming himself.
Looking at the CEO's figure, he knew he had put himself in a difficult position. Having once stood at the peak of power, Juwel knew how power operated.
Perhaps he should prepare a backup plan.
In fact, Juwel knew he did not need to oppose the company's plan. Thinking deeper, he knew the plan had been made long before he arrived. Therefore, if the image change was part of the plan, it would have happened to the original body anyway. Meaning, the original body's future would not be altered.
But Juwel could not accept the company linking that plan to the current scandal, making him doubt that future developments might be similar: connecting the original body with other scandals.
Perhaps it was a bit of a desire to protect the owner of this body. Juwel did not want the original body to be hurt too much by this harsh world.
It seemed there were other matters beyond learning skills for the job that needed priority consideration.
Juwel turned on his phone. When he typed the keyword, a bunch of information started appearing on the screen.
"Juwel" made his public debut five years ago as an idol in a boy group named PRINZE.
What caused him, no, to be more precise, the entire group PRINZE, to rise to fame so quickly was their outstanding appearance, which perfectly matched the preferences of this market.
Being loved solely for one's looks is not inherently wrong, but it also means that his career could easily become unstable if there was nothing beyond appearance. On the other hand, due to the company's positioning, the public had been guided to view "Juwel" as their boyfriend or husband. As a result, after two years of popularity, his private life was placed under scrutiny. Some people discovered that he had secretly gotten married.
That discovery also meant that the "image" constructed for Juwel by the company had collapsed.
Juwel himself was still not entirely clear on the definition of "image", even after reading its basic explanation. It seemed to be something derived from the existence of the internet, the entertainment industry, and profit driven business models built around personas.
Because the original owner of the body had concealed this truth from the company, once the matter was exposed, the original owner was burdened with a contract penalty debt. Juwel knew this because he had examined the original owner's financial records.
Juwel skimmed through old news articles, and his gaze stopped when he saw a blurred photograph. In it were two men, one with bright blond hair and one with black hair. Although the faces in the image were unclear, Juwel could still recognize the resemblance between those two and himself and Corvos in the present. Perhaps they were the original owners of the bodies before he and Corvos borrowed them.
Juwel also found several clearer images of the two. However, because Corvos belonged to the type of "ordinary handsome", his features were not particularly distinctive, so his real identity had apparently not been traced. On the other hand, the original owner of Juwel's body had been linked to several other men, so the public remained uncertain about who the true husband actually was.
The revelation that Juwel had married caused chaos within the fandom. Some felt betrayed, while others chose to defend him. However, the story did not end there. Many people revived rumors that Juwel had once been involved with a powerful figure in the entertainment industry, while others asserted that he was being financially kept. There were countless malicious speculations about Juwel's private life, yet in the end, no clarification ever came from the original owner of the body.
The company's decision to ignore the negative rumors and refuse to issue any clarification was itself one of the causes.
This was likely the company's habitual way of handling problems. They often relied on drama to push their artists forward.
Returning to the main issue, it appeared that being an "idol" was a profession that required maintaining an established image. Since the old image had collapsed, public opinion needed to be redirected toward a new one. Therefore, the company forced Juwel to act according to a new image in order to rebuild the "idol" in the eyes of the believers.
By the time he got home, the clock showed almost 12 noon. Juwel was not hungry and ran straight into his room.
He immediately searched for the original owner's labor contract.
Actually, Juwel had already gone through all the documents of both the original body owner and Corvos, but since he did not fully understand the reality, he still could not connect the clauses together.
Pages filled with black text on white appeared before him. Juwel flipped each page, his gaze getting darker. He read through the entire contract no less than three times, discovering more unreasonable clauses each time, even blatantly exploitative ones.
The first thing that caught his attention was the work hour regulations. At first glance, it seemed reasonable: "No more than eight hours per day, six days a week, except in cases of special schedules required by the job."
But the term "special schedules" was never specifically defined. Instead, the footnote at the end of the document stated, "All public activities for promotion, media, sudden projects, or schedules coordinated with external partners are considered exceptions."
In other words, almost all work of an artist, from filming, photoshoots, participating in shows, to attending events, was classified as "special," meaning actual working hours could be unlimited without violating any clause.
Although the contract listed a right that seemed to protect the artist: "May refuse if workload seriously affects health," immediately after was the line: "Assessment of the impact will be confirmed by the managing company after reviewing medical records."
An ordinary person would consider this a transparent process, but to Juwel, it only meant that the artist had no final say.
Next came the clause regarding image. The artist was required to change their appearance, style, and even their name if the company demanded it. As long as the company saw media value in it, they would push through any change regardless of the artist's feelings. Juwel frowned.
This was the most critical clause at the present moment, because he, the one currently inhabiting this body, would find it extremely difficult to resist the company's demand to alter his image.
Juwel paused for a moment, deep in thought. In his worldview, honor, loyalty, and personal will were always placed above all else. A clause like this was no different from shackles. Yet now he stood in a different world, one where the entertainment industry flourished brilliantly, and ruled with authoritarian force.
Not only image, the contract also bound speech.
Juwel skimmed through the section on social media regulations, where the company held the right to censor every post. The artist was not allowed to speak freely or share political or social opinions. Even personal emotions had to be "approved before sharing."
Those lines of text made Juwel unconsciously grip the edge of the paper. Freedom of speech was one of the values he had once defended with blood, yet here it was restricted by a few invisible contractual clauses.
He tried searching on AI for the artist management system of this era. Within minutes, countless results appeared. Terms like "management company," "exclusive stylist," "top-down profit sharing," "formality casting," "artist freeze" surfaced one after another. They revealed a stark reality in which a minor artist had no right to choose. They were treated as replaceable chess pieces. If they disobeyed the company, roles could be cut, appearances removed, or even smear campaigns launched to destroy their image. And if they attempted to resist? Then they could be sued in return for breach of contract.
Even a few posts expressing personal opinions could be deemed "damaging the company's image," a vague phrase but one frequently used as justification to discipline artists.
Juwel narrowed his eyes. He was not naïve. After years of living amid war, conspiracy, and power, he understood that true freedom always came at a steep price. But what he was facing now was coercion through a legally binding contract, enforced by laws recognized by modern society. Fighting it was not as simple as exposing a mafia boss or overthrowing a corrupt regime.
Worse still, Juwel quickly realized that those who signed this contract had almost no way out. The binding period lasted from five to ten years. To withdraw early required paying an enormous compensation, far exceeding the income of a minor artist.
And if they stayed? They could not freely choose projects, could not select their own team, could not even dress well without the company's stylist, and had no opportunity to resist at all.
For someone like Juwel, who had taken over this body out of obligation to the original owner, the situation became even more difficult. If he simply complied with the contract, the original owner of the body would be molded into whatever the company desired. Image, reputation, even personality could be distorted.
Then what meaning did it have for him to bear this responsibility? He did not come here to become a puppet for anyone. He came to protect the honor and will of the one who had disappeared.
Juwel had considered confronting the company head-on. But he had no status, no backing, no loyal fanbase to shield him, and no media willing to speak on his behalf.
If he caused trouble, the only outcome would be being frozen. Unable to work, yet also unable to leave. A silent death in obscurity.
Juwel clenched the paper tightly, his gaze sharp and cold. He could not break the contract. He could not confront them directly. And he could not stand by and watch the original owner of the body be trampled.
…But he could choose another path.
A plan slowly took shape in his mind. A way to protect the original owner's image without direct confrontation. If he could not change the rules of the game, then he would use those very rules to bend it.
He lifted his gaze, his face no longer showing a trace of hesitation.
*
The old bed in the side room suddenly let out a long cracking sound. The wooden frame tilted completely to one side, as if it no longer had any strength left to bear weight. This was indeed the unlucky bed that had been turned into a battlefield for Juwel and Corvos on that day. It had not been thrown away entirely, because both of them believed that the bed's materials could still be recycled and reused. Therefore, they placed it in a corner.
Corvos looked at it, clasped his hands behind his back, pondering something, then walked over to Juwel's room.
"The bed collapsed."
Juwel raised his head. Corvos stood in front of him. He was nearly one meter ninety tall, so when he stood before someone, he usually made them feel overwhelmed. However, for some reason, Corvos at this moment did not give off that feeling.
"You are using the new one. The sofa is too small for my build. I think we need to buy a hammock. What do you think?"
The sofa in their house was not the kind that was luxurious or spacious. It was tiny, like a chair fitted with an extra rubber cushion and some scraps of fabric inside. Because of that, Corvos had been forced to sleep sitting up for the past few days.
Juwel lowered his head again and continued flipping the page of the book he was reading. Juwel's silence usually expressed that he did not agree. It was his way of refusing to answer stupid questions when the answer was already too obvious. Corvos noticed the signal, but he did not leave right away. The two of them tacitly waited to see who would be the one to make a sound first.
After a brief silence, the first sound did not come from either of them, but from Juwel's phone. The screen showed the most recent delivery status of the shipper, visible to both Juwel and Corvos. Juwel, however, was the one who compromised first. He lifted his gaze from the book, his eyes sharp and cold, and remained silent for a moment as if weighing the situation. He closed the book, then replied slowly.
"Fine. This is the amount of money allowed. But remember the pact."
"Disguise." Corvos took the money that Juwel handed over and repeated the word. "So that no one notices."
At that exact moment, the doorbell rang. Juwel's order had arrived. Normally, Corvos would go out to receive guests, because Juwel was an idol and could not conveniently show his face. But before Corvos could react, Juwel had already stood up and moved faster, his hand steady as he received the package from the shipper.
Before Corvos could even ask anything, Juwel brushed past him and slammed his bedroom door shut with a loud bang, as if deliberately sending a signal: do not come anywhere near here.
Inside the room, Juwel placed the box on the table. The utility knife slid across the tape. Layer after layer of packaging was peeled away, revealing a dress, a pair of heeled sandals, and a box of women's jewelry glittering under the light. These were things that no one, not even those closest to him, would believe Juwel had personally ordered.
Juwel sat down, his eyes calm as they looked at the laptop screen. Makeup tutorial videos appeared one after another. The voice of a beauty blogger filled the room. He picked up a brush, picked up powder, and followed every movement exactly as the beauty blogger instructed.
The mirror reflected a beautiful, cold face, gradually changing bit by bit along the path of the brush. This was part of the plan, a necessary move.
And Juwel had never allowed anyone to interfere with his plan.