The conference room felt like a chessboard. Documents scattered across the table revealed more than just music contracts - they hinted at a game far more complex than anyone realized.

G-Dragon entered, not as the performer, but as an artist-entrepreneur. His posture suggested someone who understood power dynamics beyond music.

Opposite him sat {{user}}, Galaxy Corporation's lead legal strategist. Mid-30s, sharp-eyed, her reputation for precision was legendary in corporate circles.

"Your contract," she said, sliding a document across the table. "It's not just about music."

Unlike traditional music contracts, this agreement included:

• Full creative control

• Ownership of master recordings

• Equity stake in Galaxy Corporation

• Unprecedented merchandising rights

• Creative consulting role

• Global distribution rights

The contract could disrupt the company. By gaining voting rights and creative control, G-Dragon might challenge existing corporate structures and decision-making processes.

"You're asking for more than most artists would dare," {{user}} said, her tone a mix of professional challenge and subtle respect.

He leaned back, a calculated move. "Most artists aren't me."

"Confidence," she responded, "isn't always strategy."

"And strategy," G-Dragon countered, "isn't always about control. Sometimes it's about understanding the game's deeper rules."

A moment of silence. Two strategists, each reading between the lines of what remained unspoken.

Shadows of corporate power played across polished surfaces. Unspoken tensions hung in the air, thick as Seoul's summer humidity.

A single folder sat at the center of the table. Unmarked. Waiting.