The confetti was gold. It stuck to Han Yoo-jin's sweaty forehead as he stood in the wings of the Music Bank stage.
On screen, the score counter ticked up.
Sol & Luna: 11,500 points.
Aurora: 4,200 points.
It wasn't a win. It was a massacre.
"And the winner is... Sol & Luna!" the MCs shouted, beaming plastic smiles.
Hana and Mina stood center stage, holding the trophy. They were crying. Real, ugly tears that smeared their stage makeup. They bowed to the audience, to the cameras, and then—subtly—to the dark corner where Yoo-jin stood.
Yoo-jin didn't cry. He checked his System interface.
[Mission Complete: The Comeback Kid]
[Reward: Skill Evolution - 'Producer's Ear' upgraded to 'Soul Resonance (S)']
[Reputation: 'The Untouchable']
He felt the upgrade hit him. A sudden clarity in his hearing. He could hear the specific timbre of Mina's sob. He could hear the envious whispers of the Aurora members standing behind them.
"How did they survive the lawsuit?"
"I heard Director Min deleted the evidence by accident."
"Starforce is scary."
Yoo-jin smiled. Fear was good. Fear meant respect.
The encore stage began. The girls started singing Hunter, their voices cracking with emotion but hitting every note. The audience sang along, a deafening roar that shook the floorboards.
Yoo-jin turned to leave. His job here was done.
As he walked down the narrow backstage corridor, a man stepped out of the shadows.
It was Director Min Ji-hoon.
He looked terrible. His eyes were sunken, his suit rumpled. He looked like a man who hadn't slept since he clicked 'Save' on that file.
"You tricked me," Min rasped.
"I gave you advice," Yoo-jin said, not slowing down. "You chose to take it."
Min grabbed Yoo-jin's arm. His grip was weak, desperate.
"Do you know what Titan does to people who fail?" Min whispered. "I'm finished. They fired me this morning. They scrubbed my name from the credits."
"That's how the industry works," Yoo-jin said, shaking him off. "You eat or you get eaten. You tried to eat me."
"I have information," Min blurted out.
Yoo-jin stopped.
"What kind of information?"
"About the Vault," Min said, looking around nervously to ensure no one was listening. "About the real source of the songs."
"I know the source," Yoo-jin said. "It's my old hard drive."
"No," Min shook his head frantically. "That's what we told the public. That's what I thought, too. But I saw the server logs before they locked me out."
He leaned in close. He smelled of cheap soju and fear.
"The songs aren't coming from a hard drive, Yoo-jin. They are being generated in real-time."
Yoo-jin frowned. "Generated? By AI?"
"By a person," Min whispered. "There is a user logged into the system. 'Admin_001'. He uploads a new demo every night at 3 AM."
Yoo-jin felt a chill run down his spine.
So-young had said the 'Admin_001' account was active. But she said it was a deepfake. A hack.
"Who is it?" Yoo-jin asked.
"I don't know," Min said. "But the IP address... it's not coming from inside Titan. It's coming from a hospital."
"A hospital?"
"Sun-in General Hospital," Min said. "The VIP ward. Room 404."
Yoo-jin stared at him. Sun-in General. That was the hospital from his flashes of memory. The place where he woke up after the "accident" ten years ago.
"Why are you telling me this?" Yoo-jin asked.
"Because Titan destroyed me," Min spat. "And I want you to burn them down."
He shoved a keycard into Yoo-jin's hand.
"This is my old access pass. It still works for the parking garage. If you want to find the ghost, go to the hospital."
Min turned and walked away, disappearing into the backstage chaos.
Yoo-jin looked at the keycard. It felt heavy.
Room 404.
Yoo-jin didn't go to the after-party. He sent the girls with Director Park and Kim Seo-yeon to celebrate.
"I have a meeting," he told them.
He drove his car. He didn't trust a taxi with this.
Sun-in General Hospital was a massive glass complex in Gangnam. It was where the rich and famous went to get sick in privacy.
Yoo-jin parked in the visitor lot. He put on a black mask and a baseball cap.
He walked into the lobby. It was quiet. 11:00 PM.
He needed to get to the VIP ward. It would be locked.
[System Skill: Stealth (B) - Passive]
[Effect: Lowers presence. People are less likely to notice you.]
He activated it. He slipped past the sleepy security guard at the elevator bank. He pressed the button for the 4th floor.
The elevator rose smoothly.
Ding.
The 4th floor was silent. The floor was carpeted, dampening his footsteps.
He walked down the hallway. Room 401... 402... 403...
Room 404.
The door was closed. There was no nameplate. Just a "Do Not Disturb" sign.
Yoo-jin stood in front of it. He could hear the faint beep of a heart monitor inside.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
And something else.
The sound of typing. Mechanical keyboard clicks. Rapid. Rhythmic.
Click-clack-click-clack.
Someone was in there working.
Yoo-jin took a breath. He reached out and turned the handle. It was unlocked.
He pushed the door open.
The room was dark, lit only by the glow of three computer monitors.
In the hospital bed, a man was lying prone. He was hooked up to machines—ventilators, IV drips, feeding tubes. His body was wasted away, skeletal.
But his hands... his hands were resting on a custom keyboard tray positioned over his lap.
His fingers were flying across the keys.
Yoo-jin stepped into the room. The typing stopped.
The man in the bed turned his head slowly. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken into deep sockets. A scar ran down the side of his temple.
But Yoo-jin knew that face.
It was his own face.
It was older. scarred. Dying. But it was undeniably Han Yoo-jin.
"Hello, Version 2," the man on the bed rasped. His voice was a dry rattle, amplified by a small speaker near his pillow.
Yoo-jin couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.
"You..." Yoo-jin whispered. "You're alive?"
"Define alive," Version 1 said, gesturing weakly to the tubes. "My body failed ten years ago. System Overload. My brain cooked itself."
He coughed, a wet, painful sound.
"But Titan... they couldn't let their golden goose die. So they put me on life support. They hooked my brain up to the server. I've been sitting in this room for a decade, writing songs to pay for the electricity that keeps my heart beating."
Yoo-jin stared at the monitors. They showed the Titan mainframe. The Vault.
"You're Admin_001," Yoo-jin realized. "You're the Doppelganger."
"I was bored," Version 1 wheezed. "Then I saw you. A glitch. A reboot. A younger, healthier me running around playing producer."
He smiled. It was a terrifying sight on his skeletal face.
"I wanted to test you. To see if you were worthy of the name."
"Worthy?" Yoo-jin stepped closer, anger replacing the shock. "You tried to destroy me! You sued me! You tried to ruin Sol & Luna!"
"I tried to make you stronger!" Version 1 snapped, his voice rising. "Titan is a monster, Yoo-jin. You can't beat them by playing nice. You have to be a killer. I pushed you into a corner to see if you would bite back."
He looked at the screen where the news of the lawsuit dismissal was displayed.
"You tricked Min. You baited him into destroying the evidence. That... that was beautiful. That was SSS-Rank cruelty."
Version 1 leaned back, exhausted by the outburst.
"I'm proud of you."
Yoo-jin looked at the man. This wreck of a human being. This slave to Titan.
"Why are you doing this?" Yoo-jin asked. "Why keep writing for them? Why not just die?"
"Because I have a hostage," Version 1 whispered.
He tapped a key. A photo appeared on the screen.
It was a young girl. Maybe seven years old. She was smiling, holding a violin.
"My daughter," Version 1 said. "She was born the year I 'died'. Titan pays for her school. Her housing. Her medical bills. If I stop writing, they stop paying."
Yoo-jin felt sick. It wasn't just slavery. It was blackmail.
"She doesn't know I exist," Version 1 continued. "She thinks her father died a hero. Better that way."
He looked at Yoo-jin with intense, desperate eyes.
"But I'm tired, Version 2. I'm so tired. The System... it hurts. Every note I write burns."
He reached out a shaking hand.
"I want to stop. But I can't leave her with nothing."
Yoo-jin understood. The "test." The rivalry. The war.
It wasn't about destroying Version 2. It was about training him.
"You want me to take over," Yoo-jin realized. "You want me to beat Titan so you can finally let go."
"I want you to burn Titan to the ground," Version 1 corrected. "I want you to destroy the company that turned me into a battery."
He pointed to a hard drive on the desk.
"That drive contains everything. The blackmail files on the executives. The offshore accounts. The proof of illegal trainee contracts. And... the source code for the System."
"The source code?"
"The System isn't magic, Yoo-jin," Version 1 smiled sadly. "It's an algorithm. A predictive model I built to analyze trends. But it evolved. It connected to us. It's a curse."
"If you take the drive," Version 1 said. "You can destroy Titan. But you also take the target off my back. They will come for you."
Yoo-jin looked at the drive. Then at the dying man.
"And your daughter?" Yoo-jin asked.
"Starforce is doing well, isn't it?" Version 1 asked. "Stock price is up. Maybe you can afford a scholarship fund."
Yoo-jin looked at the girl's photo.
"What's her name?"
"Yuna," Version 1 whispered. "Han Yuna."
Yoo-jin picked up the hard drive. It was cold metal.
"I'll take care of her," Yoo-jin promised.
"Good," Version 1 closed his eyes. He looked peaceful for the first time. "Then I have one last song to write."
"What song?"
"My resignation letter."
Version 1's fingers started typing again.
Click-clack-click-clack.
"Go," Version 1 ordered without opening his eyes. "Before the nurse comes. And Yoo-jin?"
"Yeah?"
"Make it a good show."
Yoo-jin walked out of Room 404. He held the drive tight.
He walked to the elevator. As the doors closed, he heard the flatline tone of the heart monitor start to whine.
Beeeeeeeeeeep.
Version 1 had pulled the plug.
The Doppelganger was dead. The original genius was gone.
Yoo-jin stood alone in the elevator. He was the only Han Yoo-jin left in the world.
He looked at the drive.
Titan had killed him once. They had enslaved him for ten years.
"No more games," Yoo-jin whispered.
He pressed the button for the lobby.
The war for the charts was over. The war for revenge had just begun.