[Dispatch = Kim So-jung & Park Hye-jin]

The chairman’s taste is clear.

**Black**: He likes black skirts. If the legs are pretty, black stockings are a must.

**Killer heels**: He prefers tall women. More precisely, tall and thin women.

**Hair**: No tying it up. Hair must flow while dancing.

CJ Group is the home of auditions. From *Superstar K* to *Produce 101*, *Idol School*, *Girls Planet*, *Boys Planet* — 34 audition programs in total.

Groups like *I.O.I*, *Wanna One*, *IZ*ONE\*, *Kep1er*, and *ZEROBASEONE* were born out of CJ auditions (though *Produce X 101* was marred by manipulation scandals).

And the CJ chairman himself enjoys auditions — privately. Female entertainers, Afreeca BJs, influencers, and hostesses were invited to his secret parties.

Why does Lee Jae-hyun seek out tall and thin women? *Dispatch* investigated the chairman’s clandestine “auditions.” His so-called “hobby” skirted the line of illegality.

◆ “Would you like to join the party?”

Like a scene out of *Squid Game*, a mysterious DM arrived: *“Would you attend a DJ party?”*

Ms. A instantly understood the unspoken subject — the party was hosted by Lee Jae-hyun, the head of CJ Group.

She recalled, “I once attended the chairman’s party. It was conducted like a 007 operation, in complete secrecy.”

*Dispatch* obtained the invitation text sent by a “manager” (the women called the recruiters “managers”):

> “Hello. Just confirming tomorrow’s meeting. Please contact me if there are any changes. See you at Cheongdam-dong XXX at the appointed time.” (Manager)

◆ “We’ll evaluate your looks”

To attend the chairman’s DJ party, Ms. B went through four steps. First, a face-to-face meeting. She met the manager at a café in Cheongdam-dong, where her appearance was assessed.

“It was basically a screening to select attendees,” she said. “There were 4 to 6 women at once. They scanned our faces, height, and body shape.”

Because B had already attended one of Lee’s parties before, she was effectively already “on the list.” The meeting was little more than a formality.

“It lasted maybe two or three minutes. Just a quick check. The rest happened over KakaoTalk — setting nicknames, negotiating pay, arranging time and place.” (Ms. B)

◆ “Time, Place, Occasion”

A KakaoTalk invitation Ms. A received broke it down:

**Time**:

Manager: “We need to finalize the weekend headcount. Can you come?”

A: “Yes, I can.”

**Place**:

Manager: “On \[date], please come to Dosan-daero XXX, OO Building, 1X floor.”

**Dress code**:

A: “What style should I wear?”

Manager: “Mostly black. If you have nice legs, wear black stockings. Aim for thin and glamorous. Heels must be high, at least 9cm. Don’t tie your hair — wear it down.”

◆ “COVID test — infected are out”

*Dispatch* tracked down the given address. It was in fact a vacant clinic space.

C, another participant, explained:

“They sent me to a clinic first. I had to get a COVID test. After that, I received another address.”

A clinic staff member confirmed:

“Tall, slim women often came by. I thought they were models. They just got tested and left. I remember them — several wore killer heels at once. After testing, they moved on elsewhere.”

◆ “Location → relocation → change — a spy mission”

According to C, attendees had to move three times before reaching the party: Clinic → S Gallery → final venue.

Cross-checking A’s texts and C’s testimony — though the two did not know each other — revealed the exact same route.

A’s instructions:

1. Dosan-daero XXX (the clinic).

2. Cheongdam-dong XX (in front of S Gallery).

3. Then six photographs instead of an address.

> “Follow the photos in order,” said the manager.

Following the photos led A to a fashion store 160m away. The rooftop of the sixth floor was the party venue — identical to where C arrived.

◆ “I’ll become CJ’s empress!”

Ms. D also attended a party once, but failed to catch the chairman’s eye. Later, she received another invitation — on the condition she bring a pretty friend.

Determined, she aimed to become a “fixed” member (as opposed to a “new face”).

In messages obtained by *Dispatch*, she told a friend:

> “Tomorrow, I have to get fixed.”

> “I’ll rise from consort to empress.”

> “Need to practice dancing tonight. I’ll conquer the party.”

> “These heels are sky-high. I must look 170cm tall!”

But once again, she failed. She complained afterward:

> “He only kept cheap dancers by his side.”

She added, “My younger friend played the ‘girlfriend role,’ didn’t even dance. I heard fixed members get invited to private parties and earn ₩10 million over three days.”

◆ “The chairman arrives — everyone stands”

Over two months, *Dispatch* interviewed more than eight people — attendees, acquaintances, insiders.

Despite variations in detail, their accounts aligned on key elements: #The chairman arrives, #All stand, #Small talk, #Phones surrendered, #Explicit dance, #Chairman DJs, #Cash envelopes.

Cross-checking testimonies, A, B, C, and D all described nearly identical initiation rituals: face-to-face screening, COVID test, shifting locations, then the final venue.

A recalled:

“A fixed member ran over yelling, ‘The chairman is here!’ One helped him walk in, another shouted, ‘Everyone stand!’”

◆ “Hand over your phones”

The parties began with small talk. Everyone surrendered their phones. Lee Jae-hyun chatted with regular members about their recent lives.

The second act moved to another floor, with a DJ booth and karaoke machine. Women took turns dancing competitively.

“It was like 19+ Afreeca BJ dancing,” A said.

“Like a broadcast chasing virtual tips,” added B.

“Cheap, vulgar dances,” scoffed D.

The highlight: Lee Jae-hyun himself, leaning against the DJ booth, playing music for an hour, while the women cheered nonstop.

Fixed members even coached newcomers: “Cheer loudly, tell him he’s great, that it’s fun, that he looks cool.”

The night ended with a dinner by a famous chef at another location. According to B, one standout dancer was asked to stay behind — the rest were paid and dismissed.

◆ “₩1.5 million, in cash”

Each party had 7–8 women: 4–5 fixed members and 3–4 new faces. Fixed members could be dropped anytime; newcomers could be promoted. The decision rested solely with Lee.

Reportedly, he paid ₩2 million per woman. The manager took ₩500,000, leaving ₩1.5 million each in cash.

*Dispatch* obtained evidence of these cash transactions: envelopes containing thirty ₩50,000 bills. No receipts, no taxes — completely off the books.

With 8 women, that alone meant ₩16 million. Adding premium wine, chef’s meals, venue rentals, security, and staff — insiders estimated at least ₩20 million per party. Some weeks, he hosted two to three such gatherings.

◆ “Selling to women, buying women”

CJ’s core customers are women. Audition shows target female viewers; Olive Young’s shoppers are 76% women (as of 2024).

Yet while Lee sold to women, he bought women. “Slender,” “black stockings,” “killer heels” — he reduced women to tools of desire.

His hypocrisy clashes with CJ’s proclaimed corporate ethics. Publicly, he champions women’s health and empowerment. Privately, he objectified and commodified them.

* **Sexual objectification**: treating women not as persons, but as instruments of desire.

* **Sexual commodification**: buying and selling women’s sexual appeal as if it were a product.

This cannot be dismissed as eccentric hobby. His secret parties raise corporate accountability questions.

“Only One” is CJ’s core value. If corporate governance and private indulgence collide, one must give way. As the leader of a group generating ₩43 trillion in revenue, Lee Jae-hyun cannot afford such conflict.