The final note of "Monster" had faded, but the echo of Mina's raw, furious voice still hung in the air of the studio. It felt like the temperature in the room had dropped by ten degrees.
Yoo-jin stared at the girl in the recording booth. She was no longer the trembling, fragile trainee he had found in the practice room. The public saw her as a victim, a Cinderella. But he realized, in that moment, that they were all wrong.
She wasn't Cinderella. She was a sleeping dragon, and they had just kicked her awake.
"That," Min-hyuk said, his voice a low, reverent rumble as he broke the silence, "is our B-side track."
Eun-bi nodded, her eyes wide with a manic, creative energy. "It's the twist in the story. The public is expecting an album full of sad, beautiful ballads. This… this is a declaration of war."
They had their weapon. A two-faced goddess. The angelic voice of their title track, and the demonic snarl of "Monster."
But a weapon was useless without a battle plan.
"We have the songs," Yoo-jin said, his mind already racing ahead. "But now we need a performance. Something that can compete with Aurora's perfect, military-style choreography."
He looked at Mina, who had just stepped out of the booth, looking emotionally drained but resolute. "You can't just stand there and sing, not on the same stage as them. You need to move."
Mina's face paled slightly. Dancing had always been her weak point, not because of a lack of skill, but because of the crippling self-consciousness that came with it. Her S-Rank dance talent had always been suppressed by her anxiety.
Hana, who had been leaning against the wall, let out a short, cynical laugh. "You can't be serious. You want to teach her to dance in less than two weeks? You'll need a miracle worker, not a choreographer."
"Then we'll find a miracle worker," Yoo-jin shot back, his eyes flashing with a new idea. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. He wasn't looking for a famous, expensive choreographer from a big company. He was looking for something else. A ghost.
He scanned the network of underground dance communities, his system cross-referencing names and rumors, looking for a hidden gem. And then, he found a name.
[Name: "Shadow" (Alias)]
[Potential: S-Rank (Choreographer)]
[Talent: Expressive Storytelling (S+), Movement Innovation (S)]
[Status: Blacklisted from the mainstream industry. Works exclusively with underground artists.]
Blacklisted. Perfect.
"I think I know just the person," Yoo-jin said, a dangerous smile on his face.
Their miracle worker held his auditions in an abandoned warehouse by the Han River. The place was cold, damp, and smelled of rust and decay. The only light came from a few harsh, industrial floodlights powered by a noisy generator.
When they arrived, a dance battle was in full swing. A circle of incredible dancers moved with a power and freedom that Yoo-jin had never seen in a polished K-pop practice room.
And in the center of it all, watching with cold, analytical eyes, was a woman. She was terrifying. Tall and lean, with sharp features, cropped black hair, and a series of intricate tattoos running up her neck. This was "Shadow."
She finished judging a battle, cutting down a talented dancer with a few sharp, brutal words. "Too clean. Too pretty. You're a product. Get out."
Yoo-jin felt Mina tense beside him. This woman made Composer Kim Tae-sung look like a kindergarten teacher.
He stepped forward. "We're here for an audition."
Shadow's eyes swept over him, dismissing him in an instant. Then her gaze landed on Mina, and a flicker of something—disappointment? disgust?—crossed her face. "I don't train idols," she said, her voice like gravel. "They're puppets. They have no soul."
Yoo-jin had expected this. He hadn't come to talk. He had brought his secret weapon.
He handed a small bluetooth speaker to Min-hyuk, who had insisted on coming along as their bodyguard. "Play the track," Yoo-jin said.
Min-hyuk pressed the button. The dark, pulsing, predatory beat of "Monster" filled the vast, empty warehouse.
Shadow's head snapped up. Her cold, bored expression vanished, replaced by a look of intense, predatory interest. Her eyes locked onto Mina.
"You," she said, her voice a low growl. "That's your voice?"
Mina nodded, her throat suddenly dry.
Shadow pointed to the center of the concrete floor. "Dance," she commanded. "Show me the monster."
This was it. The moment of truth.
Mina stepped into the center of the floor, the other dancers parting to give her space. The harsh floodlights cast long, dancing shadows around her. She was all alone.
The music started again from the beginning. For a few seconds, Mina just stood there, frozen. Yoo-jin's heart sank. Had he pushed her too far?
But then she closed her eyes. The music seemed to wash over her, and her body began to move.
It wasn't a dance. Not in the way an idol dances. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't trying to be charming. She was telling a story. Her movements were sharp, broken, and filled with a desperate, angry energy. It was the story of a doll breaking its own strings. It was the story of a victim learning how to fight back.
It wasn't technically perfect. She stumbled once. Her lines weren't as clean as Hana's would have been. But it was raw. It was real. It was mesmerizing.
Yoo-jin looked over at Shadow. The choreographer was watching Mina with an unblinking, obsessive focus, as if she was seeing her own soul reflected in the girl's desperate movements.
The song ended. Mina stood in the center of the floor, breathing heavily, her chest heaving. The warehouse was completely silent.
Shadow walked forward until she was standing directly in front of Mina. She looked her up and down, her expression unreadable.
"You're a mess," Shadow said, her voice flat. "Your technique is sloppy. Your balance is inconsistent. You have no formal control."
Mina flinched, her brief moment of courage crumbling.
"But," Shadow continued, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face for the first time, "you have a story to tell. And I am very, very good at teaching monsters how to bite."
She turned to Yoo-jin. "I'll take the job. But I have one condition."
Her eyes flickered over to the corner where Hana had been standing, observing the whole scene with a look of critical, professional analysis.
"Her too," Shadow said, pointing a finger at Hana. "The broken doll needs a mirror. The princess will be her shadow. The training starts tomorrow. At dawn."
Hana's jaw dropped. She was no longer just an intern. She had just been conscripted into being her rival's personal dance partner.
Yoo-jin looked from Hana's horrified face to Mina's shocked but determined one. Their impossible team had just gained its most terrifying member.