The day of the presentation felt like a funeral.
The air in the van on the way to the studio was thick with a heavy, suffocating silence. The two master tracks were finished, saved on a single, sterile USB drive in Yoo-jin's pocket that felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
He had listened to both final versions one last time, alone, in the dead of night.
Hana's song, despite his sabotage, was still a marvel. It was a sleek, powerful anthem of defiance. But he had successfully sanded away its soul, leaving a shell of technical perfection. It was a song you could admire, but not one you could love.
Mina's song, 'Echo', was the opposite. He had twisted and warped Eun-bi's gentle ballad into something agonizingly beautiful. It was a raw nerve of a song, Mina's fragile voice soaring over a bed of discordant piano and haunting strings. It was a masterpiece born from his betrayal.
He glanced at his team. Hana was staring out the window, her face a mask of cold confidence, but he could see the tension in her clenched jaw. Mina was pale, picking at a loose thread on her jeans, her nervous energy palpable.
His gaze fell on Ji-ho, who was sitting next to Hana. The quiet producer gave Yoo-jin a quick, almost imperceptible nod. It was a gesture of solidarity, of trust.
The guilt was a physical thing, a sickness in his gut. Ji-ho's freedom, his mother's life—it was all riding on this rigged game, and the man didn't even know it.
The screening room was just as cold and dark as before. Director Yoon Tae-min was already there, sitting in his solitary chair, a single cup of black coffee on the table beside him. He didn't even acknowledge their arrival.
"Producer Han," he said, his voice flat. "Plug it in. Play the first track. No introductions. The music will speak for itself."
Yoo-jin's hands felt clumsy as he inserted the USB drive. He clicked on the first file, labeled HANA_FINAL.
The music exploded into the room.
The dark, operatic synth intro filled the space, followed by a driving, aggressive beat. And then Hana's voice cut through—clear, powerful, and technically flawless. She hit every note with surgical precision, her control absolute.
Yoo-jin watched Director Yoon's face, his own system running a constant, frantic diagnostic.
[Yoon Tae-min's 'Visionary's Insight' is analyzing the track.]
[Analysis: High level of technical proficiency. Strong commercial appeal.]
The director's expression didn't change. He just listened, his eyes closed, his head tilted slightly. The song reached its climax, a soaring high note that Yoo-jin had forced Hana to pull back, to make 'safer'. It was impressive, but it lacked the raw, desperate edge it once had.
The song ended. The silence that followed was deafening.
Yoon Tae-min opened his eyes. He said nothing. He simply gestured to the laptop. "Next."
Yoo-jin's heart hammered against his ribs. This was it. The moment of truth. He clicked on the second file: MINA_FINAL.
A single, dissonant piano chord echoed in the darkness. It was unsettling, wrong. And then Mina's voice entered, a fragile, breathy whisper that felt like it could shatter at any moment.
"A broken mirror shows... a thousand shattered mes..."
The song was quiet, sparse. It was the anti-anthem. Where Hana's song was a declaration of war, Mina's was a confession. It built slowly, Eun-bi's melody twisting and turning in unexpected ways, always returning to that one haunting, broken chord.
He watched the director.
[Yoon Tae-min's 'Visionary's Insight' is analyzing the track.]
[Analysis: High degree of emotional resonance. Unconventional structure. Strong artistic merit.]
[His emotional state is shifting from 'Skeptical' to 'Intrigued'.]
The song reached its final chorus. Mina's voice didn't soar. It broke. On the final, desperate plea of the lyrics, her voice cracked with a raw, genuine pain that couldn't be faked. It was the take Yoo-jin had tortured out of her, the one that had left her in tears.
It was the sound of a heart tearing in two.
The last piano note faded into a long, profound silence.
No one moved. No one breathed.
Yoon Tae-min sat motionless for what felt like an eternity. He stared at the blank screen, his face a complete enigma. Then, he picked up his coffee cup and took a slow, deliberate sip.
He placed the cup back on the table with a soft click.
"The first song," he began, his voice a low rumble. "It is a good song. Polished. Professional. It would sell well. It is also completely soulless. It sounds like it was designed by a committee to be a hit. It is a product, not a piece of art. It is worthless to me."
Hana flinched as if she'd been struck. The color drained from her face.
The director then turned his piercing gaze directly onto Mina. She shrank back in her chair, terrified.
"The second song," he said, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. "Is a mess. It's unbalanced. It's emotionally manipulative. The structure is all wrong."
He paused, letting the cruel words hang in the air. Eun-bi looked utterly devastated.
"It is also the only honest piece of music I have heard all year," the director finished. "It is the sound of the character's soul. It is the winner."
A collective, silent gasp went through the team. They had done it. Mina's face was a mask of pure, uncomprehending shock.
Yoo-jin felt a wave of dizzying relief, so intense it almost buckled his knees. The system notification he'd been dreading and hoping for flashed in his vision.
[Main Scenario Quest: The Muse's Echo - COMPLETE!]
[Synergy Rate: 94%. Objective cleared.]
[Reward: Second Unique Skill is now UNLOCKED.]
He had won. He had saved Ji-ho. He had saved himself.
But as he looked at Hana, the victory turned to poison in his mouth. Her mask of confidence was gone. In its place was a look of raw, public humiliation. She wasn't looking at the director. She wasn't looking at Mina.
She was staring directly at him.
And her eyes, cold and sharp, held a terrifying new understanding. She wasn't a fool. She was an A-Rank talent who had lived and breathed this industry since birth. She knew her song was good. She knew it had been sabotaged.
And she knew exactly who had done it.
Yoon Tae-min stood up, his business concluded. "Producer Han. Have the master files sent to my studio by the end of the day. The rest of you, leave."
The team shuffled out, a strange mix of shell-shocked and ecstatic. Mina and Eun-bi were hugging, tears streaming down their faces. Min-hyuk was clapping a stunned Ji-ho on the back.
Hana walked out without a word to anyone.
Yoo-jin was the last to leave. As he reached the door, the director's voice stopped him.
"A word of advice, Producer Han," Yoon Tae-min said, his back still to him. "You created a devil's masterpiece today. Be careful it doesn't come back to devour you."
The director's words were a chilling premonition. Yoo-jin walked out into the hallway, his victory feeling hollow and dangerous. He looked for Hana, but she was gone.
His phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number. His blood ran cold as he read it. It was just a single sentence.
I know what you did.