The backstage of the Seoul Music Showcase was a battlefield. Staff with headsets yelled into microphones, idols in glittering, impossibly tight outfits rushed past, and the air crackled with a mixture of hairspray, sweat, and pure, unadulterated panic.
Yoo-jin moved through the chaos not as a lowly assistant, but as a general before a battle. His face was a mask of cold, hard focus.
He cornered the lighting director. "On the second chorus, kill all the stage lights except a single pin spot on her. Don't ask, just do it."
He found the senior sound engineer, a man who looked at him with disdain. Yoo-jin met his gaze and handed him a small, unmarked USB drive. "This is the master track for my artist. Use this, and only this. If you change a single level without my say-so, I will personally hold you responsible for sabotage." The man was so taken aback by his audacity that he just nodded.
This was his stage now.
As Mina was getting a final dusting of powder on her face, a shadow fell over her. It was Lee Hana. She looked flawless, her stage outfit a dazzling creation of silver and white, her smile as beautiful and poisonous as a nightshade flower.
"Nervous?" Hana purred, her voice low enough so only Mina could hear. "It's a long way down from a stage this high. Enjoy your last moment in the spotlight."
Mina looked up from the makeup chair. The girl Hana had terrorized in the practice room was gone. Instead, she just looked at her rival, her gaze clear and steady.
"Thank you, Hana," she said softly, her voice devoid of fear. "I will."
The simple, unafraid response was like a slap in the face. For the first time, Hana's perfect smile faltered.
"And now, a special performance from a voice that has captured the nation's curiosity! Please welcome, from Starforce Entertainment, Choi Mina!"
The MC's booming voice was his cue. Yoo-jin gave Mina one last, firm nod. She walked out of the dim chaos of the wings and into the blinding white light of the stage.
The roar from the ten thousand people in the arena was a physical force, a wall of sound that hit her in the chest. Through the monitors in the wings, Yoo-jin watched her face on the massive screens. He saw her falter for a split second, her eyes wide with a familiar terror. His heart stopped.
Then, she did exactly what he'd told her to do.
She closed her eyes.
She shut out the crowd. She shut out the lights, the cameras, the entire world. In her mind, she was back in the safety of the basement studio. She could smell the stale coffee. She could see Eun-bi's encouraging nod, Min-hyuk's gruff smirk, and Yoo-jin's steady, unwavering gaze. She was building her safe room, right there, in the heart of the hurricane.
The first lonely, haunting piano note of "Echo" cut through the arena's noise. The crowd, which had been cheering wildly, quieted, confused by the sudden, stark shift in mood.
Mina brought the microphone to her lips and began to sing.
Her voice was a fragile, perfect whisper that a thousand sound systems projected into the hearts of every person in the room. On the massive screens flanking the stage, the camera zoomed in on her face. A single, perfect teardrop escaped from under her closed eyelid and traced a path down her cheek, glittering like a diamond in the spotlight.
Yoo-jin watched her stats from the side, his own breath caught in his throat.
[Anxiety: 99% -> 40% (Converting to Emotion)]
[Emotional Resonance: 100% (Maximum Output)]
She wasn't just singing the song. She was transmitting her soul. Every ounce of fear, loneliness, and pain she had ever felt was being poured into the microphone, transformed into a sound so beautiful it was almost unbearable.
The entire arena was silent. Ten thousand people, holding their breath, captivated by the sound of a single, broken heart healing itself in real time.
The final note hung in the air, a shimmering, perfect thing.
For a full three seconds, there was absolute, stunned silence. It was a silence more powerful than any applause.
Then, the arena erupted.
It wasn't polite clapping. It wasn't the dutiful cheering for an opening act. It was a roar. A thunderstorm of sound, of emotion, of people on their feet, some of them crying without knowing why.
Backstage, Yoo-jin's phone was exploding with notifications, but he ignored them. He opened a single, bookmarked link that Reporter Kim had sent him just moments before Mina went on stage. The article was live.
[EXCLUSIVE] Starforce Trainee Lee Hana Caught in Vicious Blackmail Plot Against "Masked Singer" Choi Mina.
The story was a bombshell. It had everything: screenshots of Hana's threatening messages, anonymous but detailed quotes from other trainees about her long history of bullying, and a scathing commentary on Starforce's toxic internal culture. Yoo-jin's gambit hadn't just worked; it was a knockout blow.
A few feet away, near the monitors, Lee Hana was staring at her own phone, her face ashen. Her manager was grabbing her arm, his face pale with panic. Her perfect future was turning to ash in the palm of her hand. She looked up, her eyes wild with disbelief and fury, and saw Yoo-jin watching her. His expression was cold and unforgiving. There was no pity in his eyes. Only judgment.
Mina stumbled off the stage, emotionally and physically drained, her legs barely holding her up. She was immediately enveloped in a hug by Eun-bi, who was openly sobbing with joy. Min-hyuk, the grizzled cynic, actually had a rare, proud smile on his face as he gave her a clumsy pat on the shoulder.
Yoo-jin rushed over, a wide, triumphant grin breaking across his face. "You did it, Mina. You really did it."
It was a perfect, triumphant moment. Their impossible gamble had paid off.
The moment was shattered.
"Han Yoo-jin."
The voice cut through their celebration like a razor. The chaos of the backstage seemed to part like the Red Sea. Director Park stood there, flanked by two imposing men in immaculate black suits who were clearly not part of the company. His face was an unreadable mask of stone.
He ignored the article trending on everyone's phone. He ignored the thunderous applause that was still echoing from the arena. He looked directly, and only, at Han Yoo-jin. His voice was dangerously calm, devoid of any emotion.
"My office. Tomorrow morning," Director Park said, his eyes as cold and hard as ice.
"And bring a lawyer."