ADOR has failed to submit evidence on the new deadline date of June 2nd, 2026 in their lawsuit against Danielle.
Instead they've filed to modify their original claims, submitted a plan on how they're going to prove evidence that isn't submitted yet, delaying the process again.
The legal framework from the standard exclusive contract and the cited decisions (precedent) suggests that ADOR would likely need to prove that:
- ADOR faithfully performed its contractual obligations. (We all know they did not)
- Danielle committed a material contractual breach. (Which they haven’t proven yet and it seem they lack the evidence to prove it)
- The contractual notice-and-cure requirements were satisfied. (14-day notice)
- Danielle materially breached the contract for the purpose of having the contract terminated.
If a court were to conclude that ADOR itself materially breached the contract, failed to perform essential obligations, or substantially damaged the relationship of trust, the precedents attached indicate that ADOR’s contractual penalty claim would face a significant obstacle, because the clause expressly requires ADOR to have been faithfully performing its own obligations.
‼️10Asia, HYBE’s leading media mouthpiece, is now trying to shift the burden of NewJeans’ comeback onto Minji.
According to their latest narrative, the timing of NewJeans’ return supposedly depends on how quickly Minji reaches a settlement with ADOR. In other words, they’re framing Minji’s unresolved situation as the key obstacle preventing the group’s comeback.
But that’s a remarkable attempt to rewrite the story.
They’re acting as if the members are responsible for the uncertainty surrounding NewJeans, when the situation could have looked completely different had HYBE and ADOR not escalated the conflict in the first place. They’re conveniently ignoring the fact that Danielle was kicked out of the group through a retaliatory legal action and that the company itself played a central role in creating the current deadlock.
Now they’re warning that Minji’s delayed decision could negatively affect the group.
Seriously? ADOR and HYBE spent the past two years dismantling NewJeans’ foundation. The endless mediaplay, the public attacks, the lawsuits, the corporate power plays, and the campaign to discredit the members all contributed to where things stand today. To turn around and suggest that any damage to NewJeans is primarily the result of Minji taking time to decide her future is absurd!!
If NewJeans has losing momentum didn’t appear out of nowhere. It’s the direct result of decisions and malicious interventions made by HYBE.
HYBE created this crisis but the girls are the ones living with the consequences.
#NewJeansIsFive
The attorney stated:
“A HYBE employee came forward as a whistleblower. They said they had passed NewJeans’ planning materials on, and felt uncomfortable with HYBE denying it. The plaintiff is falsely claiming that they have never seen NewJeans’ planning documents.”
The attorney continued:
“July 21, 2023 was before the ILLIT members had even been selected. It makes no sense to claim that such a detailed concept had already been finalized at that point. In the plagiarism comparison video, the plaintiff itself says that ILLIT’s planning documents were created after September.”
Regarding the billboard advertisements, the attorney added:
“It is a fact that the plaintiff used NewJeans as a reference when creating billboard advertisements for ILLIT’s promotion. Before ILLIT’s debut, NewJeans billboard images were shown, and instructions were given to ILLIT’s billboard director to create something similar.”
As supporting evidence, the attorney also cited internal employee reports claiming that NewJeans’ planning materials were referenced when drafting ILLIT’s planning documents. Additionally, employees from HYBE-affiliated companies reportedly stated that reference videos were shown during choreography development, and that choreography would not be selected unless it included movements similar to those shown in the reference materials.
“Criticism Mounts Over HYBE’s ‘Multi-Label’ Strategy Amid Ongoing Owner Risk and Monopoly Concerns”
https://t.co/0fVId5uJNO
Reporter Kim Se-hyun
- HYBE establishes new girl group-focused label “ABD”
- More than 10 labels now operating… concerns over intensified internal competition
- Chairman Bang’s owner risk also continues… “Management and expansion could face disruptions”
HYBE, which has pushed forward its multi-label strategy, recently added another new label specializing in girl groups. However, some critics are pointing to concerns such as worsening market concentration caused by HYBE’s continuous label expansion. In particular, there are growing concerns that expanding the business while Bang Si-hyuk’s owner-related risks remain unresolved could have negative consequences.
According to industry sources on the 27th, HYBE recently established a new label called “ABD,” specializing in the production of girl groups. ABD stands for the brand slogan “A Bold Dream,” and its CEO is Noh Ji-won, former head of Artist Planning at Pledis Entertainment.
ABD is also planning to debut its first rookie girl group in the second half of this year. Han Sung-soo, founder and Master Professional (MP) of Pledis Entertainment, is expected to oversee the group’s overall production.
A HYBE representative stated:
“Beyond simply achieving success by showcasing the unique characteristics of artists under various labels, we aim to present more differentiated content through even greater experimentation and new attempts.”
In practice, HYBE has been implementing a multi-label strategy that strengthens each label’s expertise and autonomy. Currently, HYBE operates more than ten domestic and international labels, including BigHit Music, Pledis Entertainment, Source Music, BELIFT LAB, KOZ Entertainment, and ADOR.
The multi-label structure is generally viewed as advantageous because it allows companies to professionally manage artists with distinct identities while simultaneously running multiple campaigns, increasing IP scalability and diversifying revenue streams.
However, some argue that HYBE’s multi-label strategy could further intensify corporate concentration within the market. For example, if artists from multiple subsidiary labels promote simultaneously, a single company’s influence across the music industry and related platforms could become excessively dominant, potentially harming market diversity.
There are also concerns that the system could lead to intensified internal competition and weakened organizational unity. Since the multi-label system operates by allowing each label under a larger entertainment company to independently plan and manage artists, excessive competition between labels could result in communication breakdowns and internal conflicts.
One frequently cited example is the “NewJeans incident,” which began in April 2024 with the internal conflict between former Min Hee-jin CEO and her label ADOR and HYBE. The situation is often pointed to as one case that exposed the structural limitations of the multi-label system.
To make matters worse, concerns surrounding founder Bang Si-hyuk’s ongoing owner risk have also been prolonged, leading some to believe uncertainty surrounding artist activities and overall business operations could continue to grow. Last month, the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency’s Financial Crimes Investigation Unit applied for an arrest warrant against Bang on charges of fraudulent unfair trading under the Capital Markets Act.
However, prosecutors declined to seek the warrant in court on May 6, stating there were insufficient grounds for detention, despite police reapplying for the warrant. Police are currently reviewing whether to submit another warrant request.
Analysts say that even if each label operates independently, the legal risks surrounding the group chairman — who ultimately holds overall decision-making authority — can still become a burden in investment and strategic execution processes. In Bang’s case especially, his influence may be greater than that of many other corporate owners because he is known to be directly involved in various aspects of artist management and album planning.
An industry insider commented:
“The multi-label strategy commonly seen in global markets is one of the better growth models because it allows companies to manage various artists simultaneously. However, as the number of labels increases, the internal structure inevitably becomes more complicated, leading to problems such as communication breakdowns, misunderstandings, weakened unity, and overheated competition.”
The source added:
“It may already be difficult enough just focusing on the existing labels, but when owner risk is added on top of that, both label management and business expansion could face serious difficulties.”
- HYBE’s growth could reduce diversity in the K-pop industry by concentrating too much power within one company.
- There are concerns that having many labels under one umbrella increases internal rivalry, communication breakdowns, and organizational conflict.
- The conflict between Min Hee-jin, ADOR, and HYBE during the NewJeans dispute is presented as an example of the structural weaknesses of the multi-label system.
- The police investigation into Bang Si-hyuk over alleged fraudulent unfair trading related to HYBE’s IPO presents problems for HYBE and the industry.
- Although prosecutors declined to pursue an arrest warrant for now, the article says the unresolved “owner risk” creates uncertainty for HYBE’s business expansion and artist management.
- Industry insiders warn that expanding the number of labels while facing legal and governance risks could make both management and future growth more difficult.
This article clearly shows: 1. As soon as HYBE loses, it requests that access to the court decision be blocked. 2. It declares the Bunnies fandom to be in collusion with the winning side🤡. 3. After the loss, one-day accounts begin to appear, colliding fandoms against each other.
[English Translation]
On 4/11, I saw her while having breakfast at a hotel in Guam. There was a marathon being held in Guam at the time, so she was there with the crew led by Sean.
I carefully approached Dani and told her that I always support her. She was so kind… she thanked me and even told me to enjoy my meal. She was truly, truly, truly kind and felt like an angel!!!
She also said she didn’t actually run in the marathon and had just come to support it, ㅎㅎ.
It was a resort-style hotel, so there were many young children around, and she greeted them all so well too. The breakfast wasn’t very good, but seeing her eat happily made me feel unexpectedly warm insideㅠㅠ
Although I’m a fan of another group, I also really like NewJeans and I’m still supporting the five girls, so I’m sending this message even if it’s late. I should have sent it earlierㅠㅠ
As someone who shares the same fandom space, I thought this might be something you’d want to know, so I’m sending it now.
Bunnies are living in a reality where we keep going back to old NewJeans content over and over again… and honestly, that’s okay.
We archive those moments and revisit them whenever we miss the girls or need comfort. We laugh at their chaos, cry over the memories, and appreciate their chemistry all over again because those videos are the only places where NewJeans still feels complete.
Everything ADOR releases moving forward will be a version of NewJeans without Dani… a version of NewJeans fully controlled by HYBE… And for those of us who witnessed everything that happened since April 2024, how are we supposed to simply consume whatever HYBE and ADOR put in front of us like none of it happened?
Are we supposed to forget what they did to a group that was thriving at the very top of the industry? Forget how they kicked Dani out and then sued her for absurd amounts in damages and penalties?
No. We won’t forget.
So if all we have for now are old videos, old lives, old performances, and old memories… then that’s okay. We’ll hold onto them and we’ll be fine.
It’s so funny how that fandom keep acting like the 3 phases explanation is some strong defense when the court already reviewed it and still didn’t accept it. That alone says the argument wasn’t that convincing.
Belift’s 3 phase timeline shield completely fails. They claim they finalized their concept & branding in july 2023 and member strategy in sept 2023. But their survival show R U Next started airing in june 2023. How do you film a public show with no concept?
This gap exposes the lie. Whistleblower evidence showed Belift staff had the newjeans blueprint long before. They were retrofitting the show's creative direction and member strategy in real time after copying the ador files. They manipulated the rollout behind the scenes.
They trapped themselves, either R U Next was a headless ship running on tv with zero branding until mid airing or they lied to the court. No wonder the Seoul Court completely THREW OUT their lawsuit on may 8 and penalized them 100% court costs.
Legal facts > stan edits.
뉴진스를 악의적으로 괴롭혀 온 사이버렉카채널 한 곳이 뉴진스를 괴롭힌 영상 5개를 비공개처리한 것을 확인했습니다
신고를 피할 목적으로 영상을 비공개한 것 같습니다
https://t.co/4YsDjCngdg
https://t.co/HZpOzfMhke
https://t.co/29do9SCK7U
https://t.co/8xbQRV75xR
https://t.co/y0egZ6W06o
Funny thing is, the claim that "Hanni lied" is not even supported by the actual sequence of events described in HYBE's and BELIFT's own statements, lol.
HYBE initially referenced 7–8 minutes of CCTV footage. BELIFT later reduced that to 5 minutes. Eventually, only an 8-second clip was released publicly. Evidence does not progressively shrink unless crucial context is being excluded. 🤷🏻♀️
More importantly, Hanni's account consistently referred to two separate encounters:
1. At first when they greeted each other,
2. Then second several minutes later, when the manager instructed the members to ignore her.
The publicly released CCTV only depicted the first encounter, not the second interaction she was referring to.
BELIFT then further contradicted itself by claiming there was only a "single encounter," while simultaneously acknowledging that the groups crossed paths over the course of several minutes. Logically, an 8 second clip cannot comprehensively represent a timeline BELIFT themselves described as lasting much longer.
HYBE's/BELIFT's timeline is evidently inconsistent from the start. And when the evidence, duration, and explanation continuously change, we can see who's the one lying (Your beloved HYBE and BELIFT).
1. A whistleblower claimed Belief Lab had copied the NewJeans concept.
2. Belief Lab, unaware of the whistleblower's presence, presented the copied concept in the Fastview lawsuit in August 2024.
3. Belief Lab, unaware of the whistleblower's presence, used the September concept+
250trossa:
https://t.co/YwDB6ztk05
260516
Yesterday, the damages lawsuit filed by BELIFT LAB against Min Hee-jin, CEO of OOAK Records, resumed proceedings. (And Source Music requested a change to the hearing date.) To be honest, at this point, I think even bringing up the BELIFT LAB and ILLIT copy controversy again is a waste of time. I’ve already written several times before about why the controversy surrounding ILLIT allegedly copying NewJeans is not just a simple debate over similarities, but an issue tied to K-pop production ethics and the structure of the industry itself. For those who may not have read those earlier posts, I’m leaving links to them here, and I’d appreciate it if interested readers would check those out first.
Even so, the reason this issue must still be discussed is because this is not simply about whether one group copied another. It is about how a major entertainment company views the public, how it treats creativity, and how it attempts to conceal flaws within the very system it created.
The core of the ILLIT controversy is not merely that “they look similar.” What matters in the debate surrounding ILLIT and NewJeans is not the similarity of isolated elements. The question is: at what point does the total combination of music, visuals, choreography, concepts, image texture, debut strategy, and the overall sensory impression presented to the public become too similar to be dismissed as coincidence?
References have always existed in K-pop. No group is created entirely from nothing. Trends of the era, the grammar of global pop music, street fashion, and the short-form video consumption structure centered around social media all influence idol production today. But references and imitation are different. A reference involves creating a new context through one’s own interpretation. Imitation, on the other hand, is the act of borrowing an already existing sensory framework while presenting it as though it were an original creation.
This is precisely why the ILLIT controversy felt uncomfortable to so many people. It wasn’t because of a single similar scene, but because the overall way the group was introduced to the public gave the impression of repeating an already successful aesthetic from an uncomfortably close distance. This is something that can be broken down into legal categories and debated in court, but at the same time, it is also a cultural judgment to which the public reacted instinctively first.
The language of the courtroom and the language of the public are different. BELIFT LAB claims that its work is original, and naturally it will continue to maintain that position in court. In legal disputes, issues such as similarity of expression, the scope of copyright protection, the distinction between ideas and expressions, and whether damages occurred may all become points of contention. Those are matters for the court to decide.
But in the realm of culture, the public’s instincts move much faster and more intuitively than legal judgment. Even without technical terminology, people instinctively recognize what feels genuinely new, what merely repackages an existing successful formula, what comes from sincere creative intent, and what feels assembled through calculated market logic.
In that sense, BELIFT LAB’s attitude is deeply pathetic. When controversy arose, the company had many possible responses available to it. At the very least, it could have reflected on why the public reacted the way it did and internally reviewed what may have gone wrong during the production process. Instead, its response so far has essentially been: “We did nothing wrong.” Their insistence in court on a “calling a deer a horse” (指鹿爲馬) attitude is hardly an exaggeration to describe as an insult to the public’s intelligence. Perhaps they have already gone too far to admit fault, apologize, or change direction.
And it is not difficult to see what gives them such confidence. Most likely, they are relying on massive financial power, believing they can drag things out long enough for the controversy to dissipate. But the public is already watching closely to see how sustainable a strategy based solely on wealth and nouveau riche arrogance can really be when cultural originality and artistic integrity are cast aside.
People will grow even angrier at this point moving forward. They are not upset simply because things look similar. They are angry because, even after the similarities were pointed out, the company continued insisting otherwise to the very end, appearing to dismiss and belittle the public’s own judgment and perception.
Through this, we can understand why HYBE’s multi-label system increasingly appears to be a failure. HYBE has long promoted its multi-label structure as one of its core competitive strengths. In theory, a multi-label system is attractive. Each label is supposed to have its own independent identity, with different musical directions and production philosophies combining into one vast ecosystem. In the global music industry, label systems have traditionally functioned as structures that generate diversity.
The problem is whether HYBE’s multi-label system is actually operating that way in reality. What the public sees now is not an alliance of independent creative groups devoted to music, but something much closer to a manufacturing assembly line obsessed with efficiency and risk distribution — Factory 1, Factory 2, Factory 3 producing similar products. Can this truly be called the essence of a cultural company devoted to music as its craft? Rather than building unique musical philosophies and aesthetics, each label seems to have become accustomed to rapidly modifying and reproducing already successful models.
For a multi-label system to have real strength, the labels must genuinely differ from one another. They must be willing to risk different kinds of failure, push different tastes, and sometimes prioritize long-term identity over immediate profit. But HYBE today appears overly reliant on economies of scale. The system has grown larger, yet the individuality of creativity within it feels as though it has become smaller.
This is precisely the most dangerous point. K-pop has long been criticized as a factory-like system. But even within that system, there were clearly outstanding producers. They knew how to build a team’s identity within limited structures, and how to organize music, image, and narrative into a single cohesive world. What the current HYBE-style system is showing through its teams feels closer to the opposite. There is enormous capital and platform power, but almost no sense of aesthetic responsibility running through it.
The moment virality comes before music, artists stop lasting. Looking at the music and performances of recent HYBE-affiliated groups, there is a common issue that stands out: the song itself no longer feels like the center. The stages are flashy, the choreography is complicated, and there are many moments clearly designed to be clipped into Shorts. But when asked whether the songs themselves are worth listening to repeatedly, whether the vocals convincingly carry the emotions of the track, or whether the team is growing musically, the answers become weak.
The recent music and performances of HYBE groups such as LE SSERAFIM, ILLIT, and KATSEYE can be read as examples exposing these systemic limitations. The most disappointing part is the production style that seems to place little importance on vocal ability. Many songs feel less like they exist to be sung and more like they were engineered around specific moments and choreography for short-form videos. At that point, music stops feeling like an emotional work of art and instead becomes closer to a unit of content designed to function within a platform ecosystem.
LE SSERAFIM’s headbanging performance during “Celebration” especially illustrates this issue clearly. The problem is not the intensity of the choreography itself. K-pop has always been a genre where music and performance are intertwined, and demanding choreography is part of its aesthetic. But placing that level of physical aggression during live singing sections effectively amounts to admitting, from the planning stage itself, that the essence of singing has already been abandoned. Likewise, regardless of the public appeal of ILLIT’s “It’s Me,” it leaves the impression of being optimized primarily as background music for TikTok challenges. Its overly simplified easy-listening approach that almost seems to reject vocal ability, the performance-focused structure, and the fragmented lyrics that appear to undermine the beauty of the Korean language leave a deep sense of disappointment.
Rather than persuading audiences through the structure and emotional flow of the songs themselves, the reality today is that many songs are designed with performances, challenges, and viral short-form circulation already in mind. This is one of the more unfortunate aspects of modern K-pop. Of course, short-form platforms cannot simply be ignored. Challenges have already become part of promotional strategy, and performance-centered consumption is now a core grammar of K-pop itself. But when songs are consumed less as complete emotional works and more as assembled items built around certain scenes, choreography, or viral points, it goes beyond merely adapting to trends. In particular, this approach does not seem entirely unrelated to the fact that HYBE’s management includes a considerable number of people from the gaming industry. When music is treated less like art and more like an item functioning inside a platform ecosystem, the limits of their formula begin to show.
Ultimately, the issue is one of essence. The moment a ten-second clip optimized for short-form content becomes more important than the song as a whole, music itself is no longer at the center. When one chorus move, a certain facial expression, or a meme-able moment replaces musical completeness, idols become closer to content packages than artists.
In LE SSERAFIM’s case, this issue appears especially stark. The public’s increasingly cold response toward the group is not simply the result of malicious haters stirring negativity. Since debut, the team has repeatedly built narratives around strong willpower, toughness, growth, and self-confidence. But what the public criticized after Coachella was not merely one isolated mistake. It was the enormous gap exposed between the narrative they had built up and the actual capabilities shown on stage. The public can be cruel at times, but it is also accurate. When a carefully packaged narrative collides with reality and cannot withstand scrutiny, trust collapses in that moment.
The point where Source Music’s lack of production capability and loss of direction became especially undeniable was LE SSERAFIM’s so-called “spaghetti vomit performance.” What they needed was not mockery toward criticism through a grotesque performance involving spaghetti vomit, but a process of rebuilding through improved skill and performance. Responding to criticism with a “vomit performance” may create momentary catharsis, but it does not restore broken trust. The only way to turn public ridicule into support is ultimately through growth and better performances.
TVXQ’s Yunho once faced intense public ridicule and mockery over criticism of his acting in the drama “Heading to the Ground.” But he did not make excuses or blame the public. Quietly, he kept working and sharpening his skills, and years later, through his dramatically improved acting in “Fine,” he transformed ridicule into praise. The public does not only mock people. When they see genuine change, they acknowledge and support it. The surest way for an artist to overcome public criticism is to prove their true abilities through skill.
One thing must be made clear here: this criticism is not directed at the members of LE SSERAFIM or ILLIT themselves. Idol members move within concepts designed by their company, songs chosen by their company, choreography created by their company, and promotional strategies planned by their company. Especially for rookie or younger groups under major agencies, individual members have very limited authority over the creative direction.
Therefore, the responsibility lies primarily with the producers and the company. The real problem is a production structure that gives artists songs unsuited to their abilities, creates stages where performance takes priority over live singing, prioritizes image narratives over actual skill, and when criticism arises, attempts to bury it under fandom wars and viral marketing strategies rather than reflecting on it. It is simply unfortunate that artists under such direction are forced to move like chess pieces.
Good producers protect their artists. They identify what their artists do best, give them time to grow in weaker areas, and avoid recklessly widening the gap between the team’s image and their actual capabilities. Bad producers, on the other hand, consume their artists. They impose narratives that are difficult to carry, demand performances that are difficult to execute, and when criticism emerges, force the artists themselves to bear the burden.
The anxiety visible in some HYBE teams today stems precisely from this point. The company has grown enormous, but the production lacks delicacy. There is abundant capital, yet the musical judgment does not show the depth one would expect from a company of that scale. The system is flashy, but the fundamental skills that allow artists to endure for a long time no longer seem to be at the center.
Looking back at what people jokingly refer to these days as the “age of barbarism” — the popular music scene of the 1980s and 1990s — the songs left behind by artists from that era are still called masterpieces and continue to be loved decades later. This is exactly what HYBE should learn from. Music from that rough era did not become outdated because the times were harsh. On the contrary, the works created by those who held firmly onto the essence of music despite living through such rough times are precisely the ones that survived the passage of time.
📺 https://t.co/KidLErLUg9
Here is the video from the 1992 “Tomorrow Will Be Too Late” environmental campaign concert. The artists who stood on that stage, and the songs they left behind, still live vividly in the public’s memory today. They were not products engineered by entertainment company systems, but people who proved their raw talent by growing on their own in their respective fields. What is even more remarkable is that most of them were in their twenties at the time. In particular, the late Shin Hae-chul, at only 24 years old, stood at the musical center of the project, creating the theme song and serving as the album’s producer. In today’s K-pop scene, how many artists of that same age could independently demonstrate that level of planning ability and musical leadership? The only comparable name that comes to mind is perhaps G-Dragon in his mid-twenties.
In this context, the point recently raised by former ADOR CEO Min Hee-jin during her lecture at Chonnam National University accurately pinpoints a major blind spot in today’s K-pop industry, especially HYBE’s marketing-first philosophy. She expressed disagreement with the idea that content consumption experiences matter more than music itself, explaining that the reason she took charge of a label in the first place was ultimately because she wanted to make music. She also emphasized that if the fundamental quality of the music and visuals is not high enough, content-driven power alone cannot sustain longevity.
The reason this statement matters is not simply because she said the obvious — that “music is important.” It matters because she pointed out the very essence that the K-pop industry is increasingly forgetting. Content matters. Visuals matter. Fandoms, platforms, short-form media, and virality all matter too. But those things should exist as devices that expand music, not as tools that conceal the absence of it.
Culture cannot be manufactured simply by forcing it into existence. Virality can create attention, but it cannot create affection. Challenges can generate exposure, but they cannot create memories that define an era. In the end, what lasts are the songs, the voices, the performances, and the emotions that only that particular team can deliver.
As Min pointed out, if the fundamental quality of the music or visuals is lacking, short-form content alone cannot sustain long-term success. This is not a rejection of content itself. It is simply the obvious truth that trends unsupported by musical depth and aesthetic completeness are inherently disposable.
The reason so many people responded strongly when NewJeans first appeared was not merely because the marketing was clever. It was because the music, visuals, choreography, styling, member images, the emotional tone of the music videos, and the sensory identity of the albums were all aligned in one direction under a fully realized philosophy. That was not the result of virality — it was the result of completeness. Virality came afterward, as the public discovered that completeness.
In the end, the public will distinguish between what is genuine and what is artificial. That is why HYBE should not fool itself into thinking that everything can be solved through snack-culture-style virality. The public is far smarter than companies assume. A company may generate buzz for a period of time through fandom size, platform power, repeated exposure, and algorithmic support, but that does not automatically create trust. Something is not loved simply because it is constantly seen, nor does frequent exposure make something good music.
Culture can be measured in numbers, but it cannot be created by numbers alone. Views, challenge participation counts, short-form circulation metrics, and first-week sales are undoubtedly important industrial indicators. But they cannot replace the essence of music. This is especially true in the idol industry, where image and emotional connection matter deeply. In the end, the public recognizes which teams were created sincerely, which teams were assembled through calculation, which performances are sustained by genuine skill, and which survive only through camerawork and editing.
The crisis HYBE faces right now is not simply about lawsuits. It is ultimately a crisis of trust. It is about how the public views HYBE’s production ethics, and whether the music and teams they present can truly be accepted as independent creative works.
K-pop has already become a global industry. But the larger an industry becomes, the more important standards become — not scale. Having a lot of money does not automatically produce good music. Having a massive system does not automatically create good teams. If anything, the bigger the scale becomes, the more necessary it is to have a delicate production philosophy, stricter ethics, and clearer musical standards.
If HYBE’s multi-label system is to become a genuine creative ecosystem, then each label must possess its own distinct musical language. Rather than endlessly replicating successful formulas, each label should be capable of building its own sensibility, even at the risk of failure. That is the true reason labels exist. If labels simply become production departments manufacturing similar products under the same corporation, then it is not a multi-label system at all — it is merely a “multi-factory” system.
Where BELIFT LAB’s lawsuit ultimately goes is for the courts to decide. But culturally, it already seems as though much of the public has reached its own conclusions. People are asking:
Is this truly original creativity?
Is this really production centered around music?
Is this genuinely the attitude of a company seeking to create culture for an era?
I do not believe these questions are directed only at BELIFT LAB. These questions are aimed at HYBE as a whole — a company that seems intoxicated by the virality it has created. More broadly, these questions are aimed at the entire K-pop industry.
What comes first — music, or virality?
What comes first — creativity, or profit?
Are companies nurturing artists, or manufacturing products?
A company unable to answer these questions properly may be able to make money temporarily, but it will never create classics that endure in history. As Min Hee-jin herself said, culture cannot be created by force. Culture only emerges where sincerity, completeness, and the public’s ability to recognize them come together.
Minji, Hanni, Danielle, Haerin, and Hyein didn’t simply “walk away” the way many liars and misinformed fools are trying to frame it.
Oversimplifying the situation strips away the critical context needed to understand both the process and why the members ultimately made their decision.
Under Article 15 of the Standard Exclusive Contract for Popular Culture and Arts Professionals, if either the agency or the artist breaches the contract, the other party has the right to demand that the violation be corrected within 14 days. If the breach is not remedied within that period, the other party may terminate the contract and seek damages.
That is why NewJeans set September 25, 2024… exactly two weeks after their September 11 livestream… as the deadline for HYBE’s response. It is also why the girls gave ADOR another 14 days after sending their formal notice on November 13, 2024, demanding that ADOR correct what they laid out as contractual violations.
These were not impulsive actions. They followed the dispute and termination procedure outlined in their own contract.
HYBE and ADOR were given ample time and multiple opportunities to respond, yet they failed to resolve the issues raised by the girls.
At that point, NewJeans was within their contractual right to exercise termination of their exclusive contracts.
BELIFT LAB claimed that their girl group’s concept had already been finalized by July 21, 2023.
But the document they themselves submitted to the court is titled: “Plaintiff BELIFT LAB Debut Girl Group Directionality_0920.” That’s September 20.
Which raises an obvious question: how was the concept supposedly finalized in July when the directionality document appears to be dated two months later?
What makes this even more interesting is that this timeline comes before BELIFT’s creative director reportedly received NewJeans planning documents from a HYBE employee on August 29, 2023.
The evidence they, themselves, submitted in court is starting to contradict their public statements. The timelines just aren’t lining up.
That’s the problem with lies, isn’t it?
Eventually, they start collapsing under the weight of their own contradictions.
They can try to control the narrative, rewrite timelines, and make carefully worded statements, but once documents, dates, and evidence begin surfacing, the inconsistencies become impossible to ignore.
In the end, it’s usually not the critics who expose the lie… it’s always the liar’s own story falling apart.
BELIFT LAB claimed that their girl group’s concept had already been finalized by July 21, 2023.
But the document they themselves submitted to the court is titled: “Plaintiff BELIFT LAB Debut Girl Group Directionality_0920.” That’s September 20.
Which raises an obvious question: how was the concept supposedly finalized in July when the directionality document appears to be dated two months later?
What makes this even more interesting is that, within this timeline, BELIFT LAB’s “directionality” document submitted to court comes after August 29, 2023… the date when BELIFT’s creative director reportedly received NewJeans planning documents from a HYBE employee.
The evidence they, themselves, submitted in court is starting to contradict their public statements. The timelines just aren’t lining up.
That’s the problem with lies, isn’t it?
Eventually, they start collapsing under the weight of their own contradictions.
They can try to control the narrative, rewrite timelines, and make carefully worded statements, but once documents, dates, and evidence begin surfacing, the inconsistencies become impossible to ignore.
In the end, it’s usually not the critics who expose the lie… it’s always the liar’s own story falling apart.