The mood in STAR Entertainment's top floor office was heavier than smoke. Literally.
Richard Meyers, CEO of STAR and father to the infamous Jewel Meyers, leaned back on his leather chair, exhaling a lazy ribbon of tobacco smoke.
"What do you mean we should name Jewel Meyers as the songwriter?" Lance barked, his voice bouncing off the sleek glass walls.
The CEO smirked. "Exactly what I said. My daughter is an aspiring songwriter. In fact, she's newly contracted here. She won on her own, of course. The track you boys performed—what's the title again?"
"Unbroken," Ren muttered, jaw tight. His eyes narrowed at the old man's indifference. Richard clearly didn't care about the music, only the money it brought.
"Right, right. Unbroken. A fine little tune." Richard waved his hand as if shooing away a fly. "My Jewel just needs her break, and this is perfect. Put her name down as the writer."
Eric straightened in his seat. "But the song isn't hers. It was written by Emerald Light. We promised her recognition."
Ren, calm as always, added, "That was our deal. We're not about to betray her."
Richard chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. "Gentlemen, you want to make it big, don't you? I'm offering you a future. Fame. Power. Security. A single hit won't keep you afloat forever. Overnight stars burn out fast—candles that melt as quickly as they spark. Do you want to end up like them?"
The boys fell silent. They knew he was right. Success in the music world wasn't just talent—it was power, money, and backing.
Richard leaned forward, tapping ash into his crystal tray. "One simple lie. That's all it takes. Sign with STAR, let Jewel's name ride on your track, and I'll give you everything. A new manager. Priority budget. Your own team. Music videos without limit. You'll be treated like gods."
Kai's fists clenched. "We're already making waves without you."
Richard's grin widened. "And waves die when the tide goes out. But an empire? I build empires."
The room felt colder. Eric swallowed hard. Their dreams, their sacrifices, all the blood and sweat—it was right here on the table. Fame was a pen stroke away. But so was betrayal.
Eric finally reached for the contract. "One condition." His eyes bore into Richard's. "Offer Emerald Light a contract here. She deserves that much."
Richard's laugh echoed across the office. "Of course." He didn't even blink.
The others exhaled with shaky relief.
Lance signed next, his hand trembling, knuckles white as if the pen was a weapon. "This is it . . . We've waited years for this," he muttered, almost convincing himself.
Kai hesitated, his heart pounding. He signed, reluctantly. "Emy . . . I'm sorry. But at least this way, you'll get a chance too." His voice cracked, almost swallowed by the scratching of the pen.
Ren and Eric followed, their signatures locking their fate.
Richard clapped his hands once, triumphant. "Excellent. Now, hand your phones to Ricky."
"What?" Eric frowned.
Richard's right-hand man, Ricky, stepped forward with a smile. "Protocol. As STAR's rising stars, we can't risk scandal. We'll issue new phones, new numbers. Emails too. You'll cut ties with your old life. From now on, you live where STAR tells you, talk to who STAR approves."
Kai's jaw dropped. "That's insane! Why our phones?"
Richard blew another lazy puff of smoke. "Because saints don't get caught with skeletons in their closets. We'll polish your names until you're untouchable. Clean, pure, marketable. You get it right? Or do you want mud on your name in this crucial stage of your career?"
"Don't worry, it's not permanent. Once your names are established out there, you can have some normal life," Ricky added, adjusting his tie as if that made the deal sound sweeter.
"Some?" Lance barked a laugh, though it was more bitter than amused. "That doesn't sound like a promise. Sounds like a prison sentence."
Ricky didn't flinch. Instead, he slid his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, the fluorescent light flashing across the lenses so no one could see his eyes. It gave him the unsettling look of a lawyer about to tell you your own house wasn't legally yours anymore.
"Do you think being a star is easy?" Ricky's voice dropped low, carrying a weight that silenced even Lance's usual sarcasm. "It's not just you. All of our other stars are carefully protected, monitored, and polished. Every move you make from now on will be magnified. If you want to succeed in this industry, you have to sacrifice your normal life. From this moment, you don't belong to yourselves anymore."
He leaned forward, tapping the contract with one manicured finger. "You belong to the masses. To the fans. And nothing—nothing—should ever stain that name we're about to build for you."
A heavy silence fell.
Then, one by one, the boys handed over their phones, their hesitance masked with stoic faces.
"Good," Richard said, satisfied. "From today, you're STAR's rising idols!"
None reacted.
They promised themselves they'd explain everything to Emy tomorrow. That she'd understand. That she'd forgive them.
But tomorrow never came.
Months swallowed them whole—endless rehearsals, promotions, interviews, tours. STAR kept them running like machines.
And Emy?
She never stepped foot inside STAR Entertainment.
When they finally carved out time to visit her, her apartment stood empty. She was gone—no note, no trace, as if she had simply vanished from the world.