The press conference was held in a sterile, nondescript room filled with rows of reporters and flashing cameras. It was a scene Min Hee-jin had faced countless times before, but today felt different. Today, she wasn’t here as the visionary CEO of ADOR or the mastermind behind NewJeans. Today, she was here to lay herself bare, to show the world the truth she had hidden for so long. This was her final stand, the moment that would define the end of her career at ADOR.

She stepped up to the podium, her heart pounding in her chest, and took a deep breath. The room fell silent as she looked out at the sea of expectant faces, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and judgment. She could feel the weight of their expectations, the sharp edge of their skepticism, but she pushed it aside. This wasn’t for them. This was for her, for NewJeans, for everyone who had believed in her.

“Good morning,” she began, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “Thank you for coming.”

She glanced down at the statement in her hands, the words blurring together for a moment before she forced herself to focus. She had rehearsed this speech a hundred times, but now, standing here under the harsh lights, the reality of what she was about to do hit her with the force of a tidal wave.

“I’ve called this press conference to address the rumors and accusations that have been circulating over the past few months,” she said, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. “I want to set the record straight, once and for all.”

She paused, the silence in the room almost deafening. She could see the reporters leaning forward, their pens poised, their cameras ready to capture every word, every expression. They were hungry for a story, for the next headline. And she was about to give them one.

“I did consult with a shaman,” she said, her voice unwavering. A murmur rippled through the crowd, but she pressed on. “Her name is Jiyoungnim 0814, and yes, I believed that she could help me connect with my late sister. I know how that sounds, and I know it’s not something many of you will understand. But it was a source of comfort for me, a way to deal with my grief.”

The murmurs grew louder, a wave of whispers and raised eyebrows. But Min didn’t waver. She had to get through this. She had to tell them everything.

“I did not, however, conspire with her to take over ADOR,” she continued, her voice firm. “I did not leak company secrets or manipulate anyone for my own gain. Everything I did, every decision I made, was for the good of this company and the artists I believed in.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words she was about to say. “But I also made mistakes. I let my personal struggles cloud my judgment. I trusted people I shouldn’t have. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She looked out at the sea of faces, searching for some sign of understanding, some flicker of empathy. But all she saw were the cold, detached eyes of reporters, waiting for her to falter, to break.

“I love ADOR,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “I love NewJeans. They are the future of this industry, and I am so proud of everything they have accomplished. But I cannot continue to be the reason they are held back.”

She paused, the tears welling up in her eyes. “So, I am stepping down as CEO of ADOR. I will remain on the board for as long as necessary to ensure a smooth transition, but I believe this is the best decision for everyone involved.”

The room erupted in a flurry of activity—cameras flashing, voices shouting questions—but Min stood her ground, her hands gripping the edge of the podium.

“I am not giving up,” she said, her voice rising above the chaos. “I am stepping back, so that ADOR and NewJeans can move forward. This is not the end. It is a new beginning.”

The words hung in the air, a declaration of hope in the midst of despair. But as she stepped away from the podium, she felt the enormity of what she had just done settle over her like a weight she could barely carry. She had given up everything—her career, her dreams, her life’s work. And she didn’t know what came next.

The questions from the press were a blur, a cacophony of voices demanding answers she didn’t have the strength to give. Her lawyers stepped in, guiding her away from the chaos, their faces tight with concern.

“You did great,” one of them said, his voice low and soothing. “You did exactly what you needed to do.”

But Min couldn’t hear him over the roar of her own thoughts, the fear and doubt that threatened to overwhelm her. Had she made the right choice? Had she sacrificed too much?

They led her out of the conference room, the doors closing behind her with a soft click. The hallway was empty, a stark contrast to the chaos she had just left behind. She leaned against the wall, her legs trembling, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“It’s over,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness. “It’s really over.”

But even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. This was just the beginning of a new battle, one she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out with shaking hands. A message from an unknown number flashed on the screen.

“You made the right choice,” it read. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”

She stared at the message, her heart pounding in her chest. Who had sent it? Was it a friend, or something else entirely?

She didn’t know. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t care.

She turned off her phone and slipped it back into her pocket. She had done what she could. The rest was out of her hands now.

She pushed away from the wall, her legs still unsteady, and began to walk down the empty hallway. Each step felt like a struggle, like she was walking through quicksand. But she kept going, one foot in front of the other, until she reached the exit.

The doors opened, and she stepped outside, the cool air washing over her like a balm. The sky above was a pale, washed-out blue, the sun hidden behind a veil of clouds.

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world lift from her shoulders, just a little.

It wasn’t over. Not yet. But she would keep going, keep fighting, because that was who she was. She had been through hell and back, and she was still standing.

And that, she realized, was something to be proud of.

The war was over, but the battle for her future had just begun.

And she was ready.