The enter key felt heavier than a trigger.
Han Yoo-jin sat in the dimly lit control room, his finger hovering over the keyboard. On the screen, the upload bar for the "Sol & Luna" teaser was blinking, waiting for command.
"Are you sure about this?" Kim Seo-yeon asked. The marketing manager was gripping her coffee cup so hard the cardboard was buckling. "We have no press release prepared. No MV. Just a thirty-second audio clip and a black image with a logo."
"We don't need a press release," Yoo-jin said, his eyes fixed on the screen. "We have a hostage."
He glanced at his phone. The Instagram post on Isabelle's private account—the one they had hijacked—was currently the number one trending topic in South Korea.
#SolAndLuna
#IsabelleMoon
#TitanExodus
The public was hungry. They were confused. They were terrified that their favorite idol was quitting, and they were desperate for answers.
Yoo-jin was about to give them a riddle instead.
"Do it," Hana said from the couch behind him. She was filing her nails, feigning boredom, but her leg was bouncing nervously.
Yoo-jin pressed Enter.
[Uploading: Project SOL & LUNA - 'ECLIPSE' (Teaser)]
[Status: Complete.]
For three seconds, nothing happened.
Then, the view counter ticked.
1 view.
500 views.
10,000 views.
The comments started to scroll so fast they became a blur of Hangul and English.
"Is this Isabelle's new group?"
"Wait, that voice... that's NOT Isabelle."
"It sounds like... Lee Hana? And who is the other one?"
"This beat is insane. Who produced this?"
Yoo-jin leaned back in his chair, watching the numbers climb. It wasn't just a spike. It was a vertical line.
[System Notification]
[Viral Event Triggered: 'The Mystery Debut']
[Reputation with General Public: Rising sharply.]
[Impact Grade: S]
"Fifty thousand views in two minutes," Seo-yeon whispered, her face pale. "Yoo-jin, we broke the platform's refresh rate."
"Not enough," Yoo-jin said. He turned the volume knob on the studio speakers. "Let's see if Titan is awake."
Across the city, in the glass-walled boardroom of Titan Entertainment, the mood was funeral.
The Head of PR was sweating through his shirt. The Director of Artist Management was screaming into a phone.
And at the head of the table, a vacant chair where the CEO usually sat.
"We can't delete the post!" the tech specialist yelled, slamming his laptop shut. "It's not on our servers. The IP is bouncing from Jeju to Singapore. Whoever hacked Isabelle's account is a ghost."
"It's not a hack," the PR Head hissed. "She posted it. She's promoting a rival project. It's a breach of contract!"
"Then sue her!"
"We can't sue her if we can't find her! If we announce we lost her, the stock drops another ten percent!"
The door to the boardroom flew open. An assistant ran in, holding a tablet.
"Sir! Starforce just uploaded something."
The room went silent. The PR Head grabbed the tablet. He pressed play.
The sound that filled the room wasn't the bubblegum pop Titan was famous for. It was a low, distorted bass thrum that rattled the teeth. Then, a voice cut through the darkness.
Lee Hana's voice. Sharp, arrogant, demanding.
"The Sun doesn't ask for permission to rise."
Then, a second voice. Softer, breathy, but wrapped in a haunting reverb.
"And the Moon doesn't fear the dark."
The two voices crashed together in a perfect, dissonant harmony that resolved into a major chord. It was eerie. It was powerful. It sounded expensive.
The screen faded to black, revealing a single date: 10.31.
The PR Head stared at the screen. His hands were shaking.
"Starforce," he whispered. "They have Isabelle? No... they're using her to launch this?"
"Sir," the assistant squeaked. "The comments. Everyone thinks Isabelle produced it. Or that she's the hidden third member."
The PR Head threw the tablet across the table. It shattered against the wall.
"Get the legal team," he roared. "I want an injunction against Starforce by morning. I want Han Yoo-jin's head on a platter!"
Back at Starforce, the atmosphere was electric.
"Titan just issued a statement," Ghost's voice chirped from the speakerphone. "They claim Isabelle is on a 'health hiatus' and that any rumors of her working with other agencies are 'malicious falsehoods'."
"Predictable," Yoo-jin said, scrolling through the news feed. "They're trying to stop the bleeding. But they made a mistake."
"What mistake?" Mina asked. She was sitting on a stool in the vocal booth, looking through the glass.
"They used the word 'health'," Yoo-jin explained. "Now, every fan thinks she's sick. They'll scrutinize Titan for mistreatment. And every time they listen to our teaser, they'll think, 'This is the freedom she wanted'."
He looked at his team. "We own the narrative. For the next 24 hours, we are the only story in K-Pop."
The door to the studio banged open.
Director Park stood there. His face was red, his tie crooked. He looked like a man who had sprinted up five flights of stairs.
"Han. Yoo. Jin."
Seo-yeon shrank back into her chair. Mina lowered her head.
Yoo-jin didn't move. He just swiveled his chair to face the furious executive.
"Good evening, Director," Yoo-jin said calmly. "Did you enjoy the teaser?"
"Enjoy it?" Park sputtered, marching into the room. "You launched a debut project without executive approval! You used an unauthorized social media channel! And you provoked Titan Entertainment into a legal war!"
He slammed his hand on the mixing desk.
"I am shutting this down. Delete the video. Issue an apology. Bring me the girls."
The room was dead silent. Even Hana stopped filing her nails.
Yoo-jin stood up. He wasn't tall, but in that moment, with the System humming in his veins, he felt like a giant.
"Director," Yoo-jin said softly. "Look at the monitor."
Park blinked. "What?"
"The monitor," Yoo-jin pointed. "Top right corner. That's the real-time pre-order estimate based on traffic."
Park looked. The number was ticking upward like a stopwatch.
Estimated First-Week Sales: 85,000+
Park's jaw dropped. "That... that's impossible. Rookies sell ten thousand. Maybe twenty."
"We've sold the concept before we sold a single album," Yoo-jin said, stepping closer. "Titan is bleeding stock value. We are trending #1 worldwide. Investors are calling the Chairman right now, asking why Starforce shares are jumping."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that only Park could hear.
"If you shut this down, you aren't just killing a project. You are burning money. Chairman Moon hates burning money."
Park stared at the numbers. Greed warred with pride in his eyes.
Greed won. It always did.
"The legal threats..." Park mumbled, his anger deflating into nervousness. "Titan will sue."
"Let them," Yoo-jin said. "We haven't used Isabelle's name or image. We just used a hashtag on a private account we don't own. They have no case. It's just noise."
Yoo-jin patted the Director on the shoulder, a gesture so disrespectful and bold that Park froze.
"Go upstairs, Director. Handle the press. Tell them you masterminded a guerrilla marketing strategy. Take the credit."
Park's eyes lit up. "I... masterminded it?"
"Of course," Yoo-jin smiled. It was a shark's smile. "I'm just the producer. You're the visionary."
Park straightened his tie. He cleared his throat. "Right. Yes. Well. Carry on, Assistant Manager Han. Don't let the momentum drop."
He turned and marched out of the room, already pulling out his phone to call the CEO.
As the door clicked shut, the room exhaled.
"You act like a gangster," Hana observed, looking at Yoo-jin with a mix of disgust and impressed awe.
"I act like a producer," Yoo-jin corrected. He sat back down. His hands were trembling slightly. The confrontation had cost him 10% of his Stamina, but it was worth it.
"Alright," he said, clapping his hands. "Politics is over. Back to work."
He pressed the talkback button. "Mina. Your turn."
Mina looked up, startled. "Me?"
"Hana's vocal on the teaser is aggressive. It's fire," Yoo-jin said. "But fire burns out. We need water. We need the Moon."
He loaded up the track for the B-side, a ballad titled Gravity.
"The public came for the scandal," Yoo-jin said, his voice serious. "They'll stay for the music. If this track isn't perfect, we're just a gimmick. Show them why you're SSS-Rank."
Mina nodded. She closed her eyes. She took a deep breath.
When she opened them, the terrified trainee was gone. The Muse was there.
The music started. A simple piano line.
Mina opened her mouth.
The sound that came out wasn't just a note. It was an emotion. It was the feeling of being alone in a crowded room. It was the sound of Isabelle crying on the couch. It was the sound of Yoo-jin's exhaustion.
[Skill Activated: Soul Resonance (A)]
[Target: Choi Mina]
[Sync Rate: 98%]
The hairs on Yoo-jin's arms stood up. He looked at Hana. Even she had stopped moving, her eyes wide, staring at the girl in the booth.
It was perfect. It was heartbreaking.
"Cut," Yoo-jin whispered when the song ended.
Silence stretched in the studio for ten seconds.
"Okay," Seo-yeon said, wiping her eye. "That's the one. That's the hit."
Yoo-jin slumped in his chair. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by a heavy, satisfying fatigue. They had done it. They had survived the launch.
"Everyone go home," Yoo-jin ordered. "Ghost, keep scrubbing the digital trail. Hana, Mina, get some sleep. Tomorrow, the real war starts."
One by one, they left. The studio went dark, save for the glow of the monitors.
Yoo-jin was the last one. He gathered his bag, checking his phone one last time.
No messages from Titan. No messages from Director Yoon.
Strange.
He walked to the back room to check on Isabelle. She was deep asleep, curled into a ball under the Starforce blanket. She looked peaceful for the first time in years.
He quietly closed the door and headed for the elevator.
As he stepped into the cool night air of the parking lot, his phone buzzed.
A file transfer request.
From: Unknown Sender
File: demo_final_v2.mp3
Yoo-jin frowned. He accepted the file. He put his earbuds in.
He pressed play.
The beat kicked in.
Yoo-jin stopped walking. His blood ran cold.
It was a synth-pop track. Upbeat, complex, with a signature syncopated bassline.
It was his style. Not just similar. It was identical. The way the hi-hats rolled. The specific compression on the snare. The melodic structure.
It was a song he would have written. It was a song he should have written.
But he hadn't.
Then, a voice tag played over the intro. A distorted, robotic voice.
"Produced by Han Yoo-jin."
Yoo-jin ripped the earbuds out. He spun around, scanning the dark parking lot. Empty cars. Flickering streetlights.
Someone was mocking him.
Or someone was showing him that he wasn't unique.
His phone buzzed again with a text from the same number.
I like your new project. But you're using my sound.
See you at the Awards.
Yoo-jin stared at the screen. The Cider taste in his mouth turned to ash.
Isabelle's warning echoed in his mind. A man with a smile that cuts like a knife.
He wasn't just fighting Titan anymore. He was fighting his own reflection.
And the reflection was fighting back.
Yoo-jin gripped his phone tight enough to crack the screen protector.
"Fine," he whispered to the empty darkness. "Come and take it."
He turned and walked toward the subway, the shadow of the Doppelganger stretching out behind him.