The wind at eighty stories up didn't just blow; it bit.
Yoo-jin clung to the freezing metal railing of the catwalk. Below him, the lights of Los Angeles sprawled like a grid of electric veins. Above him, the shattered window of the Zenith penthouse vomited expensive curtains and broken glass into the night.
"Move!" Yoo-jin shouted over the gale. "Don't look down!"
Director Park was hyperventilating, his knuckles white on the railing. "I can't! My legs are jelly!"
"Be jelly later!" Min-ji grabbed Park's collar and hauled him forward. "Be alive now!"
They scrambled along the narrow steel grate. It was a maintenance ledge, barely two feet wide.
Eden brought up the rear. He was stumbling.
"Eden!" Yoo-jin reached back.
The boy looked up. His eyes weren't human. The irises were swirling with a faint, violet luminescence. He wasn't scared of the height. He was high on the signal.
"It feels... warm," Eden slurred, a blissful, terrified smile on his face. "The signal... it wants to fix me."
"It wants to enslave you," Yoo-jin snapped. He grabbed Eden's wrist. "Focus on my voice. Not the noise."
"There!" Olivia Ray pointed ahead.
A window-washing rig hung from the side of the building. A metal basket suspended by steel cables.
"Get in!" Olivia vaulted over the railing and landed in the basket. It swung wildly, banging against the glass façade.
CLANG.
Security guards appeared at the broken window above. Flashlights cut through the darkness.
"Targets acquired on the north face," a voice crackled over the wind. "Deploying containment drones."
"Go! Go! Go!"
Sae-ri pushed Park into the basket. Sol and Luna jumped in together, holding hands. Min-ji threw her guitar case in, then jumped.
Yoo-jin shoved Eden into the basket and scrambled in last.
"Lower it!" Yoo-jin yelled.
"I don't know how!" Olivia was frantically mashing buttons on the control panel. "It's not a DJ deck!"
Whirrrrr.
Four drones dropped from the roof. They weren't filming drones. They were sleek, black, and armed with taser prongs.
They hovered, red lights locking onto Eden.
"They want him back," Min-ji realized. She grabbed her guitar case. She didn't open it. She used it as a bat.
She swung at the nearest drone.
CRACK.
Plastic shattered. The drone spun out of control and plummeted.
"Green button!" Yoo-jin shouted at Olivia. "Just hit the big green button!"
Olivia slammed her fist on the console.
The rig lurched.
Then it dropped.
SCREEEEE—
The motors screamed as the cables paid out too fast. They fell ten stories in three seconds.
"Ahhhhhhh!" Park's scream was lost in the wind.
The rig jerked to a halt at the 50th floor. Sparks showered down from the pulleys.
"Gentle!" Sae-ri gasped, clutching the rail.
"I'm trying!" Olivia yelled. "This thing drives like a shopping cart!"
Above them, the remaining drones recalculated. They dived.
"Yoo-jin," Eden whispered. He was curled in the corner of the basket, hands over his ears. "The violet... it's getting louder. It says I'm imperfect. It says it can tune me."
Yoo-jin looked at the boy. This wasn't mind control. It was addiction. Mason Gold's tech didn't force you to obey; it made you want to be optimized.
"Min-ji," Yoo-jin ordered. "Sing."
"What?"
"The signal is acoustic-based. Jam it. Sing something messy. Something broken."
Min-ji didn't hesitate. She didn't need a melody. She channeled her fear into a guttural, punk-rock scream.
"RAAAAAHHHH!"
It was ugly. It was raw.
The drones hesitated. The violet light in Eden's eyes flickered and dimmed.
"Keep going!" Yoo-jin grabbed the control lever himself. He yanked it down.
The rig descended again, slower this time. 40th floor. 30th.
The drones buzzed closer, trying to find a clear shot.
But the erratic, screaming noise coming from the basket was disrupting their targeting sensors. Imperfection was their stealth.
They hit the ground floor alley with a bone-jarring thud.
Yoo-jin scrambled out. "Into the street! Lose them in the crowd!"
They ran out of the alley onto Wilshire Boulevard.
It was Friday night. The streets were packed with tourists and club-goers. The sudden appearance of a group of breathless, disheveled K-Pop stars didn't cause panic. It caused excitement.
"Is that Starforce?"
"Are they filming a music video?"
Phones came out. Flashlights blinded them.
"No photos!" Director Park tried to block the cameras, panting.
A black van screeched to the curb. The side door slid open.
David Kim sat inside, wearing a Dodgers cap and sunglasses.
"Get in," David said calmly. "Before Mason decides to drop a net on the sidewalk."
They piled in. Sae-ri slammed the door.
"Go," Yoo-jin said.
The van peeled away, merging into the chaotic LA traffic.
Yoo-jin slumped against the seat. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He checked his pockets. The USB drive—the Kill Code—was still there.
"You look like you fell out of a building," David commented, checking the rearview mirror.
"We did," Yoo-jin wheezed. "Mason Gold has the tech, David. He's broadcasting it."
"Project Muse?" David's face tightened. "I heard rumors. I didn't think it was operational."
"It's operational," Eden spoke up from the back.
He was shivering, wrapped in a blanket Min-ji had found. His eyes were back to their normal gray, but he looked hollowed out.
"It felt... good," Eden confessed, his voice trembling. "The Ministry used pain to control me. Zenith used pleasure. It felt like hitting the perfect note, forever. I wanted to stay."
Sae-ri grabbed Eden's hand. "But you didn't. You fought it."
"Only because Min-ji screamed," Eden looked at the floor. "Next time... I do not know if I can fight it."
Yoo-jin felt a cold dread settle in his stomach.
The Ministry had created a soldier. Zenith had created a junkie.
"Where are we going?" Yoo-jin asked. "We can't go back to the hotel. They'll be waiting."
"We're going off-grid," David said. "My nephew's garage in East LA. It's lead-lined. Used to be a weed dispensary. No signals get in or out."
East Los Angeles. The Garage.
The space smelled of oil and old carpet. Soundproofing foam lined the walls. It was cramped, dirty, and safe.
Yoo-jin placed the USB drive on a wobbly card table.
"Mason wants this," Yoo-jin said. "He offered me a billion dollars for it."
"And you said no?" Olivia asked, opening a warm soda from a mini-fridge. "Respect."
"He wants it because it's the only thing that can hurt him," Yoo-jin said. "The Kill Code disrupts the connection between the host and the server. It worked on the Ministry's hardware. It should work on Zenith's."
"But Zenith is wireless," Sae-ri pointed out. "The Ministry used implants. Mason uses airwaves. How do we inject the code?"
"We don't inject it," Yoo-jin looked at Eden. "We perform it."
"At the Grammys?" Director Park squeaked. "Tomorrow?"
"It's the only way," Yoo-jin said. "Mason is using the Grammys as his launch party. He's going to debut his 'Muse' tech live. He'll use the broadcast to infect millions of viewers with the signal. Subliminal optimization."
"He's going to brainwash the world during the commercial break?" Min-ji scoffed. "That's a comic book villain move."
"It's a tech CEO move," Yoo-jin corrected. "Capture the market before the regulations catch up."
He paced the small room.
"We have to hijack the performance. Sol & Luna have a four-minute slot. We need to swap their backing track with the Kill Code."
"But the Kill Code sounds like a banshee screaming," Hana noted. "We'll get booed off stage. We'll lose the award."
"We're not there to win a trophy," Yoo-jin stopped pacing. "We're there to stop a plague."
He looked at David.
"Can you get us into the venue early? Before the Zenith security sweep?"
"I know a guy in catering," David sighed. "I can get you in. But once you're on stage, you're on your own. If Mason cuts the mic, it's over."
"He won't cut the mic," Yoo-jin said. "He's too arrogant. He wants to see if his new tech can override us."
Yoo-jin picked up the USB drive.
"Ghost," he tapped his headset. "Are you online?"
"Barely," So-young's voice came through, thick with static. "David's lead walls are serious. What do you need?"
"I need you to remix the Kill Code," Yoo-jin said.
"Remix it?"
"Hide it," Yoo-jin said. "Bury the frequency inside a pop song. Mask the screaming with bass. Make it danceable. Make it catchy."
"You want to turn a cyber-weapon into a banger?" So-young sounded intrigued.
"I want a Trojan Horse," Yoo-jin said. "We're going to feed his own algorithm a poison pill. And we're going to make him dance to it."
He turned to Sol and Luna.
"You have twelve hours to learn a new choreography. Can you do it?"
Luna looked at Hana. Hana cracked her neck.
"We learned Riot in a traffic jam," Hana grinned. "This is luxury."
Yoo-jin nodded.
He looked at Eden. The boy was staring at the wall, tracing invisible patterns with his finger.
"Eden," Yoo-jin said softly. "I'm benching you for this one."
Eden looked up. "Because I am compromised?"
"Because you're the target," Yoo-jin said. "If that violet light touches you again, you might not come back. Stay here. Be the backup."
"I do not like being backup," Eden frowned.
"I know," Yoo-jin said. "That's why you're the secret weapon. If we fail... you pull the plug."
Yoo-jin walked to the door of the garage. He looked out at the smoggy LA dawn.
The city was waking up. Somewhere in a tower, Mason Gold was preparing to optimize the human soul.
Yoo-jin clenched his fist. His hand was human. It shook with fear.
But it was his hand.
"Let's go to rehearsal," Yoo-jin said.