The TK Department Store Atrium was a cathedral of capitalism. Five stories of glass, marble, and high-end luxury brands, all centered around a massive open void.
It was a terrible place for a concert. The acoustics were a nightmare of reverb. The lighting was designed to sell handbags, not highlight choreography.
But Han Yoo-jin didn't pick it for the sound.
He stood on the makeshift stage on the ground floor, looking up. Five tiers of balconies wrapped around him. Tonight, those balconies would be packed with five thousand fans looking down.
But the real view was through the massive glass wall behind the stage.
Directly across the street, looming like a black obelisk, was the Titan Entertainment headquarters.
"It's aggressive," Lee Hana said, walking onto the stage. She was wearing her stage outfit—a shimmering silver combat suit that caught the overhead lights. "I can see my father's office window from here."
"That's the point," Yoo-jin said, checking the mic stand placement. "We aren't hiding in a basement anymore. We're screaming in their front yard."
He checked his watch. 6:00 PM. Two hours to showtime.
Outside, the line of fans wrapped around the block three times. The "All-Kill" on the charts had converted curiosity into fanaticism. They weren't just here for music; they were here to see the underdogs bite back.
"Sound check," the engineer yelled from the mixing desk.
"Wait," Yoo-jin held up a hand.
He saw movement across the street.
On the side of the Titan tower, the massive LED billboard—usually reserved for ads—flickered to life. It was enormous, ten stories tall.
Suddenly, a blinding white light flooded the Atrium.
Yoo-jin shielded his eyes. The Titan screen was blasting a solid white background with the logo of their boy group, 'Apex'.
It wasn't an ad. It was a spotlight. A weaponized, ten-million-lumen floodlight aimed directly through the glass wall of the Atrium.
"They're blinding us!" Mina cried out, covering her face.
The stage was washed out. The delicate stage lighting Yoo-jin had rented was completely overpowered by the sheer brutality of the Titan screen. You couldn't see the dancers. You could only see the glare.
"Petty," Hana sneered, shielding her eyes. "They can't stop the show, so they're trying to ruin the visual."
Yoo-jin's phone buzzed. It was Kim Seo-yeon.
"PD-nim! The fans on the balconies are complaining. The glare is hurting their eyes. We can't start the show like this. Should we put up curtains?"
"We don't have curtains big enough to cover a five-story window," Yoo-jin said.
He looked at the Titan tower. He could imagine the executives over there, laughing in their boardroom, sipping wine while they washed out his debut stage with light pollution.
They wanted him to panic. They wanted him to cancel.
Yoo-jin felt the familiar itch in his brain. The System.
[Skill Available: Optical Illusion (A)]
[Cost: 5% Stamina + Minor Neural Load]
[Effect: Dim the perception of light for the audience.]
He could fix it with magic. He could snap his fingers and the glare would vanish for the fans.
But then he remembered Isabelle's cold hands. You're burning your own lifespan.
He remembered the "Version 1" death log.
"No," Yoo-jin whispered. "I don't need magic for this."
He grabbed his walkie-talkie.
"Director Ahn," he called the TK executive. "Are you in the control room?"
"I am," Ahn's voice came back. "Titan is playing dirty. The Chairman is amused, but concerned. Do you want us to file a complaint?"
"No," Yoo-jin said. A smile spread across his face. It was the smile of a predator who had just found a trap and decided to use it. "I want you to kill the house lights."
"Excuse me?"
"Turn off the mall," Yoo-jin ordered. "Every store. Every overhead light. Even the emergency exit signs if you can legally get away with it. Make the Atrium pitch black."
"But then you won't have any stage lighting."
"I don't need stage lighting," Yoo-jin said, looking at the blinding glare from across the street. "Titan is providing it for free."
7:55 PM.
The Atrium was packed to capacity. Five thousand people crammed onto the balconies, hanging over the railings. The noise was a dull roar of anticipation.
The glare from the Titan tower was still blasting through the glass, washing everything in a harsh, clinical white light.
Then, the mall died.
Click.
The overhead lights cut out. The luxury stores went dark.
The crowd gasped. For a second, there was total darkness.
And then, the physics of light took over.
Without the interior lights to compete, the massive beam from the Titan billboard cut through the darkness like a celestial spotlight. It hit the stage, creating a stark, dramatic silhouette effect.
Hana and Mina stood in the center of the beam.
They weren't washed out anymore. They were backlit by the enemy. Their shadows stretched long and sharp across the floor. They looked like warriors standing in the mouth of a volcano.
It was visually stunning. It looked intentional. It looked high-art.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Yoo-jin's voice boomed over the PA system. "Titan Entertainment would like to welcome you to the show."
The crowd erupted. They got the joke. Laughter and cheers shook the glass walls.
Across the street, Yoo-jin saw the Titan billboard flicker. Someone over there realized they had just spent electricity to light up their rival's stage. But it was too late to turn it off without looking weak.
"Hit it," Yoo-jin signaled.
The opening synth of Eclipse shattered the air.
This time, there was no blocked broadcast. No logistical error. Just sound and vision.
Hana stepped forward into the Titan-light. She didn't smile. She looked up at the five tiers of fans and raised her hand.
"Scream," she commanded.
And they did.
Yoo-jin watched from the side of the stage. He kept his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to check the stats. He didn't need to see the Sync Rate to know they were killing it.
Mina's high note in the bridge hit the glass ceiling and bounced back, creating a natural reverb that sounded like a cathedral choir. The acoustic nightmare of the mall had become a weapon.
The "All-Kill" chart status wasn't a fluke. This was a coronation.
As the song ended, the girls struck their final pose—back to back, silhouetted against the Titan tower.
The applause was physical. It vibrated in Yoo-jin's chest.
He let out a breath. No nosebleed. No fainting. He had won with physics and spite.
"PD-nim!"
Yoo-jin turned. Kang So-young (Ghost) was running toward him from the backstage area, holding a laptop. She looked panicked.
"We have a problem," she hissed over the noise of the crowd.
"If it's not the building burning down, it can wait," Yoo-jin said, watching the girls bow.
"It's the audio feed," So-young said. "Someone is hijacking the frequency of the in-ear monitors."
Yoo-jin froze. "What?"
"I'm tracing the signal. It's not coming from Titan. It's coming from inside the venue."
On stage, Hana flinched. She reached up and tapped her earpiece, a look of confusion crossing her face. Mina did the same, her eyes widening in panic.
They were hearing something. Something that wasn't the music.
Yoo-jin grabbed the spare monitor headset from the sound desk and jammed it into his ear.
He expected static. He expected screeching feedback—a classic sabotage tactic.
Instead, he heard a voice.
Calm. Methodical. A man's voice speaking over the backing track.
"Step left. Pitch correction needed on the F-sharp. Your breathing is shallow, Luna. Adjust."
It was a producer giving instructions. Live. During the performance.
But it wasn't Yoo-jin.
"Sol, your angle is off. The light from Titan catches your chin poorly. Tilt down. Now."
Hana, terrified, actually tilted her chin down instinctively.
Yoo-jin felt a wave of nausea. The voice. It was digital, slightly distorted, but the cadence was undeniable.
It was the way he spoke when he was in the Zone.
"Cut the monitors," Yoo-jin shouted to the sound engineer. "Kill the in-ears! Now!"
"If I cut them, they can't hear the beat!" the engineer yelled back. "The echo in here is too strong!"
If they lost the monitors, they would fall out of sync. The performance would train-wreck.
But if they kept listening to the ghost giving them orders, they would break psychologically.
Yoo-jin looked at the stage. Hana was trembling. She looked ready to bolt.
He had to choose. Use the System to stabilize them? Or trust them?
[System Warning: Mental Stability of Artist 'Lee Hana' dropping rapidly.]
[Skill Available: Telepathic Command (S). Override the audio feed.]
[Cost: 20% Sync Rate Increase.]
20%. That would push him to 60%. Closer to the Reset.
"No," Yoo-jin snarled.
He jumped over the barrier. He ran onto the stage, right into the blinding Titan light.
The crowd cheered, thinking it was part of the show.
Yoo-jin grabbed Hana's shoulder. He ripped her earpiece out. Then he did the same to Mina.
The music was a muffled roar in the echoey hall. Without the in-ears, the rhythm was a mess.
"Look at me!" Yoo-jin shouted over the noise.
Hana stared at him, wild-eyed. "There's a voice! It knows everything!"
"Forget the voice," Yoo-jin yelled. He pointed at his own chest. "Follow my beat."
He turned to the crowd. He started to clap.
One. Two. Three. Four.
A simple, heavy rhythm.
He gestured to the front row. They started to clap with him. Then the second row. Then the first balcony.
Within ten seconds, five thousand people were clapping a steady, thundering beat that drowned out the echo.
Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Sing!" Yoo-jin ordered.
Mina closed her eyes. She listened to the clapping—the heartbeat of the audience.
She began the acapella intro to Gravity.
It wasn't polished. It was raw. But it was real.
Hana joined in, her voice shaking at first, then finding strength in the sheer volume of the crowd's support.
Yoo-jin stepped back into the shadows, watching them salvage the wreck. He scanned the crowd, his eyes darting across the thousands of faces.
Where are you?
The voice in the earpiece had come from inside the venue.
Then he saw him.
On the second balcony, standing perfectly still amidst the cheering fans. A man in a black hoodie. He wasn't clapping.
He was holding a phone to his lips like a microphone.
And he was staring directly at Yoo-jin.
The man lowered the phone. He smiled. It was a small, sad smile.
[System Notification]
[Proximity Alert: Anomaly Detected.]
[User 'Han Yoo-jin (Version 1)' signal strength: 5%]
The man raised a hand in a mock salute, then turned and vanished into the crowd.
Yoo-jin wanted to chase him. He wanted to tear the mall apart to find him.
But the song was ending. The crowd was screaming the names of Sol and Luna. Confetti canons—triggered by a frantic Seo-yeon—blasted gold paper into the air.
The girls were crying, hugging each other. They had survived the sabotage. They had debuted.
Yoo-jin stood frozen on the stage, the gold confetti raining down on him like ashes.
He had won the battle for the Debut. But the war for his own soul had just begun.
He looked at his phone. The "History" tab was pulsing red.
[Sync Rate: 42%]
[Reason: Direct Contact with Anomaly.]
He hadn't used a skill. But just seeing him had pushed the meter up.
"PD-nim!" Mina ran over and hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder. "We did it! Did you hear them?"
Yoo-jin patted her head mechanically.
"I heard them," he whispered.
He looked up at the dark glass ceiling. The reflection of the stage was distorted, twisted.
"We need to go," Yoo-jin said, pulling away. "Security! Get them to the van. Now."
He wasn't celebrating. He was evacuating.
Because now he knew the truth. The Doppelganger wasn't just a rival. He was a contagion. And Yoo-jin was already infected.