The morning after the Gala, Starforce was silent.
Not the peaceful silence of a library. The terrified silence of a bunker before an airstrike.
Han Yoo-jin walked into the main office. The staff were huddled around their monitors, whispering.
"What's happening?" Yoo-jin asked, placing his coffee on Kim Seo-yeon's desk.
Seo-yeon looked up. She was pale. "We've been audited."
"By who? The tax service?"
"Everyone," she whispered. "Tax. Labor. Fire safety. Health inspection. Seven government agencies raided the building at 6 AM. They confiscated the servers."
Yoo-jin's grip on the coffee cup tightened. The Ministry of Culture. They moved fast.
"Did they take the artist contracts?"
"They tried," Director Park shouted from his office doorway. He looked disheveled. "I locked the safe and swallowed the key. Metaphorically. But they froze our bank accounts, Yoo-jin. We can't pay the staff. We can't pay the tour vendors."
It was a financial blockade. They were strangling Starforce to death.
"It's retaliation," Yoo-jin said calmly. "For the Maestro."
"Retaliation?" Park yelled. "This is an execution! The Ministry flagged us as a 'Company of National Concern'. They're claiming our music incites civil unrest!"
Yoo-jin scoffed. "Because Min-ji broke a stick?"
"Because we woke people up," a voice said from the entrance.
Jung Sae-ri walked in. She was wearing huge sunglasses and a trench coat. She looked like she was on the run.
"We need to talk," she said. "Now."
They went to the rooftop. It was the only place without listening devices (Yoo-jin hoped).
"They activated the Blacklist," Sae-ri said, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. "Every artist associated with Starforce is banned from broadcast. Sol & Luna. Min-ji. Even Olivia Ray's visa is being revoked again."
"They're scared," Yoo-jin said, looking out at the city. "They realized their prototype is off the leash."
"You aren't just a prototype," Sae-ri said. "You're a liability. The Ministry created the Idol System to pacify the public. Bread and circuses. But you turned the circus into a riot."
She exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"They want you in a lab, Yoo-jin. Or in a grave."
"Let them come," Yoo-jin said. "I have the files. I have the video of the experiment."
"You can't release it," Sae-ri warned. "If you tell the public that K-Pop is a government mind-control psy-op, they won't believe you. They'll think you're crazy. And the Ministry will institutionalize you for 'delusions'."
Yoo-jin knew she was right. The truth was too big. It sounded like a conspiracy theory.
"So we can't fight them with truth," Yoo-jin said. "We have to fight them with product."
"Product?"
"They banned us from TV," Yoo-jin said. "They froze our money. But they can't stop us from uploading."
He pulled out his phone. He opened the Starforce app.
"We have 5 million subscribers. That's a broadcasting station in my pocket."
"You can't monetize it if your accounts are frozen," Sae-ri pointed out.
"I don't need money," Yoo-jin said. "I need noise."
He turned to the door.
"Get the girls. We're filming a reality show."
Project: NO FILTER.
The concept was simple. 24/7 livestreams of the Starforce building. The practice rooms. The recording studios. The cafeteria.
If the government wanted to paint them as dangerous radicals, Yoo-jin would show the world the boring, sweaty truth.
"We are turning the agency into a glass house," Yoo-jin told the artists in the meeting room. "No scripts. No edits. If you cry, the world sees it. If you fail a high note, the world hears it."
"Is this safe?" Mina asked, looking at the cameras being set up in the corners.
"Transparency is our shield," Yoo-jin said. "If they raid us again, they do it on livestream in front of millions of witnesses."
Hana grinned. "I like it. It's like The Truman Show, but with better choreography."
"Olivia," Yoo-jin turned to the American star. "You're the host. The outsider looking in. Narrate the chaos."
"You want me to be the commentator?" Olivia laughed. "I'm expensive."
"I'll pay you in stock options once we survive this," Yoo-jin promised.
He looked at the camera lens blinking red in the corner.
"Go live."
Day 3 of the Siege.
The stream was a global phenomenon.
[LIVE: Sol & Luna practicing for 6 hours straight.]
[LIVE: Min-ji writing lyrics about the government ban.]
[LIVE: Staff eating ramen because the accounts are frozen.]
It was raw. It was human. And it made the Ministry look like bullies picking on hardworking kids.
Donations started pouring in via cryptocurrency (which the government couldn't freeze). Fans sent food trucks. They sent lawyers.
Yoo-jin sat in his office, watching the metrics.
Public Sentiment: 85% Positive.
Hashtag #FreeStarforce: Trending #1.
But the enemy wasn't idle.
The power cut out.
The screens went black. The AC stopped humming. The building plunged into darkness.
"They cut the grid," Director Park shouted from the hallway. "We're offline!"
"Switch to the backup generators," Yoo-jin ordered, grabbing a flashlight.
"We have fuel for 12 hours!"
"Then we have 12 hours to finish the album," Yoo-jin said.
He walked into the recording studio. The equipment was running on battery power. The emergency lights cast eerie red shadows.
"We can't record like this," the engineer complained. "The voltage is unstable."
"It fits the concept," Yoo-jin said.
He looked at Sol & Luna. They were huddled in blankets, looking scared. The darkness made the siege feel real.
"This is the title track," Yoo-jin said, handing them a lyric sheet scribbled in marker.
Title: BLACKOUT.
"It's about the dark," Yoo-jin said. "About being silenced. About singing when no one can see you."
He sat at the keyboard.
"Mina. Start a capella. Find the pitch in the dark."
Mina closed her eyes. She took a breath.
She sang. It was shaky, fragile.
"They cut the lights to hide the crime..."
Hana joined in, tapping a rhythm on the wall.
"But we glow in the dark, yeah we glow in the dark..."
It was haunting. Yoo-jin recorded it on his laptop, praying the battery would last.
Hour 11.
The generator was dying. The lights flickered.
"We have to upload," Yoo-jin said. "Now."
"The internet is down," Ghost (So-young) yelled from the server room. "They jammed the local cell towers. We have zero signal."
Yoo-jin ran to the window. Outside, black vans were parked around the building. Men in suits were setting up signal jammers.
They were totally isolated.
"They're going to come in," Sae-ri whispered, standing next to him. "Once the power dies, the electronic locks fail. They'll storm the building and take the hard drives."
Yoo-jin looked at the jammer trucks.
"We need a signal," he muttered. "Just one bar."
He looked at the Titan Tower across the street. It was still branded with the Titan logo, though it was empty now. But the roof... the roof had a massive satellite dish for global broadcasting.
"The Titan dish," Yoo-jin realized. "It's on a separate grid. It connects directly to the satellite network."
"It's across the street," Sae-ri said. "And the street is full of agents."
"We don't need to cross the street," Yoo-jin said.
He grabbed a heavy-duty laser pointer from the presentation kit.
"Ghost. Can you encode the upload data into a laser signal?"
So-young blinked. "Optical data transmission? Like fiber optics without the fiber? It's theoretical. The packet loss would be insane."
"We just need to hit the receiver on the Titan roof," Yoo-jin said. "It has an optical sensor for calibration."
"I need line of sight," So-young said. "And a steady hand."
"I'll hold it," Yoo-jin said.
They ran to the roof.
The wind was howling. Below, the agents watched the building, waiting for the lights to die.
So-young hooked her laptop to the laser pointer. "Uploading Blackout.mp3. File size: 8 MB. Transmission time: 30 seconds."
Yoo-jin aimed the green laser dot at the receiver dish on the Titan roof, 50 meters away.
"Go."
The laser flickered rapidly, pulsing with binary code.
Yoo-jin held his breath. He held his arm rigid. If he shook, the connection broke.
10%...
A spotlight from the street hit them.
"They see us!" Sae-ri screamed.
"Don't move," Yoo-jin gritted out.
40%...
A drone buzzed up from the street. It hovered in front of Yoo-jin, trying to block the laser.
"Hana!" Yoo-jin shouted.
Hana didn't hesitate. she grabbed a loose brick from the roof garden and threw it.
CRACK.
The brick hit the drone's rotor. It spiraled down, crashing onto the sidewalk.
80%...
"Almost there," So-young yelled.
The door to the roof burst open. Men in tactical gear rushed in.
"Drop the device!"
Yoo-jin ignored them. He kept the laser steady.
99%...
A hand grabbed his shoulder.
100%.
[Upload Complete.]
Yoo-jin dropped the laser. He raised his hands.
"It's too late," he smiled at the agents. "It's in the cloud."
The agents dragged them downstairs. They were shoved into the lobby, guarded by armed men.
Director Park was crying. The girls were huddled together.
A man in a sharp grey suit walked in. He looked like a bureaucrat, but his eyes were dead.
"Mr. Han," the man said. "I am Director Choi from the Ministry. You have caused a lot of trouble."
"I released a song," Yoo-jin said. "Is that a crime?"
"Unauthorized transmission," Choi said. "Inciting disorder. We are seizing this facility."
Suddenly, a sound came from outside.
It started as a murmur. Then a shout. Then a roar.
Thousands of phones outside were playing the same song. Blackout.
The song had hit the streaming services. And the fans, camped outside the police line, were blasting it.
"THEY CUT THE LIGHTS!" the crowd sang along. "BUT WE GLOW IN THE DARK!"
It was deafening.
Choi looked nervous. "What is that?"
"That," Yoo-jin said, standing up. "Is the sound of your firewall breaking."
He pointed to the glass doors.
Outside, the crowd was pushing against the police barricades. Not violently. Just... overwhelmingly. They were holding up their phones like candles. A sea of light.
"You can arrest me," Yoo-jin said. "But you can't arrest a melody."
Choi's phone rang. He answered it. His face went pale.
"Yes, Minister. I understand."
He hung up. He looked at Yoo-jin with pure hatred.
"Let them go," Choi ordered his men.
"What?" the squad leader asked.
"The song is trending #1 in 50 countries," Choi spat. "The UN just tweeted about 'Artist Freedom'. If we arrest them now, we create martyrs."
He stepped close to Yoo-jin.
"You won the battle, Prototype. But the lab is still open. Watch your back."
The agents filed out. The jammers were turned off.
The lights in the building flickered back on.
The cheer from outside was earth-shaking.
Yoo-jin slumped onto the reception desk. He was shaking.
"We survived," Mina whispered, disbelief in her voice.
"We didn't just survive," Yoo-jin said, looking at his System.
[Reputation: 'The Voice of the Rebellion']
[Global Influence: S-Rank]
He looked at his team. They were exhausted, dirty, and traumatized.
But they were free.
"Order pizza," Yoo-jin said, closing his eyes. "And turn up the music."