A clock ticked.
Then a sharp, jazzy piano riff broke through the darkness, followed by dusty boom-bap drums that hit like punctuation marks.
Two spotlights snapped on.
Doyun stood at the left microphone, glasses catching the light, dressed in a fitted charcoal vest over a crisp white shirt. His posture was precise, almost calculated.
Minjae leaned against the right stand, silver hair catching the red light, his leather jacket open over a torn black shirt. He looked completely at ease.
The piano looped. The clock kept ticking beneath it.
On the green-room monitor, the camera cut between their faces like a courtroom drama. The full staging made it feel like an argument neither intended to lose.
Doyun spoke first, calm and measured.
"Before we begin, read the terms."
Minjae smirked. "I don't do paperwork."
"That's your first mistake."
"Then sue me."
The beat dropped.
Doyun launched into his verse, his flow controlled and technical, every syllable landing precisely.
