The silence in the taxi on the way back was heavier than any conversation.
Yoo-jin leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, a crumpled, blood-stained tissue pressed to his nose. The world outside was a blurry smear of motion. Inside his head, it was worse. The new 'sense' he had unlocked, the ability to hear the sound of souls, hadn't turned off. It was overwhelming.
The city was a cacophony of a million different hums, buzzes, and whispers. It was a constant, low-grade psychic static that scraped at the edges of his sanity.
Beside him, Mina sat rigidly, her hands clenched in her lap. She kept stealing worried glances at him, her brow furrowed.
[Name: Choi Mina]
[Emotion: Guilt, Anxiety]
[Hidden Motivation: She believes your collapse is her fault.]
He could hear the sound of her soul, that soft cello melody, now laced with a sharp, discordant note of self-blame.
"It wasn't your fault," he said, his voice raspy. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until she flinched.
"What?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"The nosebleed. The headache," he clarified, forcing himself to sit up straight. "It's not your fault. I haven't been sleeping well. The pressure of the project."
[Lie Detected.]
"You pushed yourself too hard for me," she insisted, her voice quiet but firm. "In the studio. You were... protecting me from him, weren't you?"
She didn't know the half of it. She couldn't comprehend the invisible battle that had just taken place. But she had felt the shift. She knew he had shielded her.
"My job is to protect my artists," he said, the statement a simple, undeniable truth. "That's all."
They arrived back at the Starforce building. As soon as they walked into the office, the rest of the team swarmed them.
"How did it go?" Eun-bi asked, her face a mask of nervous anticipation.
"Did that monster director eat you alive?" Min-hyuk added, his gruffness barely hiding his concern.
Before Yoo-jin could answer, Mina spoke up, her voice clear and stronger than he'd heard it all day. "It was hard. But we got the take. Producer-nim was with me the whole time."
There was a new steel in her. The girl who had crumbled under pressure at the party was gone. The survivor who had screamed "Monster" in the face of a vampire was here to stay.
Yoo-jin felt a surge of pride, quickly followed by a fresh wave of dizziness. The psychic noise of the office—Eun-bi's hopeful hum, Min-hyuk's steady thrum, Ji-ho's complex, quiet melody—was pressing in on him.
[Mental Fortitude at 19%. Recovery is recommended.]
"I need to rest," he announced abruptly, cutting off any further questions. "Mina, you're done for the week. Vocal rest. No exceptions. Everyone else, keep working on the album concepts."
He retreated into his small, glass-walled office and collapsed into his chair, the world spinning. He had to get this new sense under control. It was a powerful weapon, but a weapon that was constantly firing in all directions was useless.
He closed his eyes and tried to focus, to build a wall in his mind, to filter the noise. He imagined a dial, and slowly, painstakingly, tried to turn it down. The chaotic hum of the city faded. The sounds of his team softened.
After a few minutes of intense concentration, there was only silence. A blessed, welcome silence. He had done it. He could control it.
But the moment he opened his eyes, he saw he was no longer alone.
Hana was standing in the doorway of his office, her arms crossed. Her expression was a complex mixture of disapproval and something else he couldn't quite read.
"So," she said, her voice dripping with ice. "That's your grand strategy? You save your precious Mina from a tough recording session and end up looking like you went ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer."
She walked in, closing the door behind her. "I saw you come in. You look like hell. What happened in that studio?"
He couldn't tell her the truth. Theirs was a business arrangement, a partnership of convenience. Revealing the supernatural side of their world, the existence of skills like 'Muse Drain', was a line he couldn't cross.
"Director Yoon is a perfectionist," he said, the partial truth a safer bet. "The session was intense. It took a lot out of both of us."
Hana stared at him, her eyes narrowing. She was an A-Rank talent, a princess of this industry. She was far more perceptive than he gave her credit for.
"I've worked with intense directors before," she said slowly. "They leave you exhausted, not bleeding. There's something you're not telling me."
He was about to deflect again when the burner phone Ghost had given him vibrated in his pocket. He froze.
Hana's eyes immediately darted to his pocket. "What's that? I've never seen that phone before."
He was trapped. He pulled out the cheap, untraceable phone, his mind racing.
It was a message from Ghost. Kang So-young.
He knows. Yoon Tae-min. He's making inquiries. He tasted your SSS-Rank energy, and now he's hunting for the source. He's been calling in favors, asking about 'unusual new talents' at mid-tier agencies. The scent of your blood is in the water, Producer Han.
A cold dread washed over him. The vampire wasn't just suspicious. He was actively investigating. He was hunting him.
"It's a personal matter," Yoo-jin said, his voice tight as he shoved the phone away.
"Everything you do is my business now," Hana countered, taking a step closer. "That's our deal. I can't have my personal producer keeping secrets that could blow up in my face. Who was that?"
He had to give her something. A partial truth. A calculated risk.
"It's from an information broker," he admitted. "Someone I hired to keep an eye on our rivals."
It was a plausible lie, one that fit his reputation as a ruthless strategist.
Hana raised a skeptical eyebrow. "An info broker? Who? What did they say?"
"They said Director Yoon is more than just a tough critic," Yoo-jin said, choosing his words carefully. "He has a reputation for pushing artists to their breaking point. The message was a warning. A warning to be careful with Mina."
He was framing his supernatural problem as a mundane industry threat.
Hana was silent for a long moment, processing this. It fit with the rumors they'd all heard about the 'Dream Crusher'.
"So you took the hit for her," Hana stated, not as a question, but as a conclusion. "You let him break you so he wouldn't break her. How pathetically noble."
The contempt was there in her voice, but as he looked at her, he saw something else in her eyes. It wasn't admiration. It was a flicker of professional respect. He had protected his asset, even at a personal cost. It was a move she, as a ruthless strategist, could understand.
"My deal with you stands," she said, her tone shifting back to business. "80% of your resources. But this... this changes things. This director is a new threat to the team. A threat to my resources."
She leaned against his desk, her expression turning predatory. "If this vampire director succeeds in draining Mina dry, my primary rival is neutralized. That's good for me. But if he exposes you and your secrets in the process, my producer gets taken off the board. That's bad for me."
She had analyzed the situation with terrifying speed and accuracy.
"So here's our new reality," she continued, her voice a low, commanding whisper. "We have to protect Mina. Not for her sake. For ours. We need to keep her just strong enough to be a convincing decoy for Director Park, but not so strong that she outshines me. And we need to keep this Director Yoon from discovering whatever dirty little secret you're hiding."
She was turning his crisis into her strategy. She was co-opting his battle.
"Your first loyalty is now to me," she declared, tapping a perfectly manicured finger on his desk for emphasis. "But your first priority is damage control. Keep the vampire away from your secrets. Keep Mina stable. And most importantly, keep all of this from the rest of the team. They can't know. Their trust in you is a tool we both need."
She pushed herself off the desk and walked to the door. "I expect a full report on your 'damage control' strategy by morning. Don't disappoint me."
The door clicked shut, leaving Yoo-jin alone in the sudden silence.
He had survived. He had even, in a twisted way, strengthened his alliance with Hana.
But the cost was immense. He was now actively conspiring with his star artist's rival to manage her career, her stability, her very soul, all while a legendary S-Rank predator was hunting him through the shadows of the industry. The two-front war had just become a three-front war.
And he was standing in the middle, the sole target of every single army.