[EMY]
No one knew where they came from.
One night, the world was scrolling through mindless feeds, billboards flashing empty ads, radios humming the same recycled tracks—and then suddenly, there they were.
AUREA.
A nameless band playing in the rain, their voices raw, unpolished yet divine, broadcast across every screen and speaker like the world itself had chosen them.
People froze in streets, headphones forgotten, umbrellas lowered. Some swore they felt their heartbeat sync with the drums, others claimed the guitar riffs carried memories they didn't know they had.
Clips flooded the internet. Hashtags trended in minutes.
"Who are they?" became the most-searched phrase in dozens of countries.
Journalists scrambled to trace the broadcast. Forums exploded with grainy screenshots of the boys' rain-drenched faces, each one sparking debates and theories.
Were they new singers? Wher they models? Hidden Celebrities? Or angels that fell to the ground?
But beyond the mystery, it was the music—the aching, thunder-fed harmony—that hooked the world. Musicians dissected it. Critics praised it. Fans swore it saved them.
By morning, AUREA wasn't just a band.
They were a phenomenon.
A question that burned on everyone's lips.
A name echoing louder than any storm.
The plan had been a wild gamble, but it worked. Even though I only managed to hijack the biggest billboards and broadcast stations for a few seconds, it was enough.
A sliver of sound, a flash of rain-drenched faces, a glimpse of that raw performance—that was all it took.
The world was hooked. Curious minds swarmed social media like moths to fire, replaying every shaky phone video from the park, every snippet I had seeded online.
By sunrise, the boys weren't just trending. They were a phenomenon.
Overnight, AUREA became a global sensation.
Of course, fate couldn't let me celebrate properly. Not when Star Entertainment suddenly stormed the park like overprotective parents catching their kids at a rock concert.
Security swept the boys up and hustled them to HQ while I slipped out the back, the crowd stampeding like it had caught fire.
When I noticed the sleek black drones of the cytech police closing in, my stomach flipped.
"Already?! They traced me that fast?!" I hissed, bolting for the shadows.
They hadn't found who I was—yet—but I wasn't going to stand around and wait for cuffs. By the time the sirens got close, I was back in my apartment, heart pounding, adrenaline still fizzing in my veins.
The next morning, I did what every sane, totally-normal, not-hunted hacker would do: brewed the cheapest instant coffee I had left and opened the news feed.
And there they were—my boys. Sitting under the blinding lights of an official interview, faces fresh, styled, and glowing like they hadn't just been soaking wet human lightbulbs last night.
They were renewing their contracts with STAR Entertainment, flashing promises of multiple music videos and bigger stages for the fans.
And of course, STAR Entertainment wasted no time shoving themselves into the spotlight—parading AUREA as their brilliant new artists, as if they had nurtured them from day one.
Never mind that, just a week ago, STAR probably didn't even remember AUREA was buried somewhere in their roster of disposable boy bands.
"They finally did it!" I squealed, hopping on my toes and nearly spilling coffee everywhere. "With AUREA's fame set in stone, no one can stop them now!"
The anchor leaned forward, all smiles. "The song you performed in the park, what's its title?"
Eric's smile was calm, confident. "It's called Unbroken."
My heart pounded against my ribs.
"Did the four of you write it?"
I froze, suitcase half-packed already—because of course, after hacking half the city, I'd planned to move apartments. A clean slate, new address, new life, new career as the boys' official songwriter.
But Eric chuckled and said, "No, we didn't write it."
I nodded absently, stuffing my charger in my bag. Yeah, yeah, they're just being humble. Go on, say my name. Say it, Eric. Don't play with my heart and soul right now—
"That song was written by . . . Jewel Meyers."
". . . Right, right, Jewel Mey—"
HUH?!