"Monster."
The word hung in the air, heavy and strange. Yoo-jin stared at Hana, a thousand calculations running through his mind. Was this a trap? Another one of her schemes to sabotage them from the inside?
But her expression held none of its usual arrogance. There was just a flicker of a long-buried memory, a hint of something that looked almost like… artistic respect.
"The company has a vault," she had said. A graveyard of potential hits. And she was offering them a key.
"Why are you helping us?" Yoo-jin asked, his voice low and suspicious.
Hana finally met his gaze, her eyes cold and sharp. "Don't misunderstand me, Producer Han. I still think you're a joke, and she's a pathetic charity case." Her words were acid, but they lacked their usual bite.
"But Aurora and their producer, Atlas… they represent everything about the industry I was raised to conquer," she continued, her voice turning bitter. "They are the perfect, polished product. And right now, you are the only one with a chance to break them."
She looked away, a flicker of her old pride returning. "I refuse to stand by and watch them win."
It wasn't an act of kindness. It was an act of rivalry. She wasn't helping them rise; she was helping them tear down a common enemy. For Yoo-jin, that was more than enough.
"Get us the song," he said.
The next night, Hana led them to a part of the Starforce building Yoo-jin had never seen before. It was a high-security wing on the executive floor, silent and cold. The door to the music vault was a thick, steel behemoth that looked like it belonged on a bank.
"Stay here," Hana ordered, her voice a tense whisper. "If anyone finds you here, we're all finished."
She swiped a black, unmarked keycard. The steel door hissed open with a pneumatic sigh, revealing a room that was less of a vault and more of a digital library, with rows of servers humming quietly in the dark.
Hana disappeared inside. The team waited in the hallway, their nerves stretched taut. Every distant footstep, every hum of the elevator, felt like a threat.
Mina was twisting the hem of her sleeve, her anxiety palpable. "What if we get caught?"
"Then we get caught," Min-hyuk grunted, his arms crossed, his large frame blocking most of the hallway as if he could physically stop any security guards. "At this point, what's one more rule broken?"
After ten agonizing minutes, the door hissed open again. Hana emerged, her face pale but her eyes gleaming with a triumphant light. She was holding a single, black USB drive.
"I found it," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Now let's get out of here before the security patrol comes."
They didn't listen to the song in their office. It felt too dangerous, too illicit. They retreated to the safety of Min-hyuk's basement studio, the one place in the world that felt like their own territory.
The five of them gathered around the main console. A sense of nervous, sacred anticipation filled the room. This was the forbidden fruit, the secret weapon stolen from the heart of the enemy.
Hana plugged the drive into the computer. A single audio file appeared on the screen, labeled only with a long, alphanumeric code.
"This is the original demo," she said. "Untouched. Exactly as the producer sent it years ago."
Min-hyuk hit play.
The song that filled the studio was unlike anything Yoo-jin had ever heard. It started with a dark, pulsing synth bass line that felt like a predatory heartbeat. The melody that followed was haunting and beautiful, but laced with a sense of danger and aggression. It was a pop song, but it had fangs.
Yoo-jin's system exploded with information, the text glowing a brilliant, menacing red.
[Song Title (Unregistered): 'Monster']
[Producer: 'Ghost' (Alias)]
[Potential: SS-Rank]
[Unique Attribute: Obsession - Induces a powerful, addictive quality in the listener after multiple hearings.]
[Note: High-risk, high-reward. The song's aggressive nature is a poor match for a traditional female vocalist.]
It was a masterpiece. A dark, twisted, addictive masterpiece. And the system was right. The song felt masculine, powerful, almost violent in its emotional intensity.
Eun-bi was the first to speak, her face pale. "This song… it's incredible. But the note from the system is right. I can't imagine Mina singing this. The original demo vocalist is a man, and he's almost screaming the chorus."
All eyes turned to Mina. She was staring at the soundwaves on the monitor, her expression unreadable. The song was the polar opposite of "Echo." It wasn't about sadness and vulnerability. It was about power and rage.
"I can do it," Mina said, her voice quiet but firm.
Min-hyuk raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Kid, this isn't about hitting the notes. This song requires an emotion I don't think you have. It's pure, unfiltered rage."
Mina looked at him, her eyes holding a depth of feeling he hadn't seen before. "You think after the last two years… after being told I was worthless, after being humiliated, after being attacked… that I don't have any rage?"
She turned to Yoo-jin, a fire in her eyes that he had never seen before. A fire that had been lit by her rivals, by the company, by the entire world that had tried to break her.
"Let me try," she said.
Yoo-jin printed the lyrics that were on the drive. He handed them to Mina. She walked into the recording booth, the single sheet of paper trembling slightly in her hand.
The rest of them watched from the control room, holding their breath. This was the moment of truth. Either this would be their secret weapon, or it would be a spectacular failure.
Min-hyuk played the instrumental track. The dark, pulsing beat filled the studio once again.
Mina took a breath. And she sang.
The voice that came through the speakers was not the sweet, ethereal voice of "Echo." It was something else. It was wounded, yes, but it was also sharp, dangerous, and filled with a cold, controlled fury. When she hit the chorus, her voice didn't break or soar. It snarled.
"You created me, now you're scared of me, you point your finger and call me a monster!"
The line hit them like a physical blow. She wasn't just singing the lyrics. She was living them. She was singing about her past, about Director Park, about Lee Hana. She was singing about all of them.
Yoo-jin stared, mesmerized. The system had been wrong. The song wasn't a poor match. It was a perfect match. It was the other half of her soul.
The song ended. The final, dark synth note faded into an electric silence.
No one spoke. In the booth, Mina was leaning against the microphone stand, her shoulders shaking, completely drained.
Hana, who had been standing silently in the back, finally spoke, her voice a stunned, disbelieving whisper.
"My god," she said. "She's not the hero of this story at all."
Yoo-jin knew exactly what she meant. The public saw Mina as a fragile victim, a Cinderella. But this song… this song would show them the truth.
It would show them the monster they had created.