"So… what now?"
Choi Mina's voice was barely a whisper, lost in the dead air of the small, dusty practice room. Yoo-jin had found it at the end of a deserted hallway. The soundproofing was old, the keyboard was covered in a thin film of grey dust, and it smelled of neglect. It was perfect.
He closed the door, shutting out the rest of Starforce Entertainment. The weight of his insane gamble settled on his shoulders. His career, his future, his life savings—all of it was riding on this terrified girl huddled on a stool.
"Now, we start," Yoo-jin said, trying to inject a confidence he didn't feel. "First, I need to hear you sing. Just one song. Anything you want. No one else is here."
Mina hugged her knees, her knuckles white. "I can't."
The words were final. Defeated. He looked at the stat screen flickering above her head.
[Anxiety: 91%]
Forcing her would be like trying to make a broken-winged bird fly by throwing it off a cliff. It wouldn't work. He had to understand why the wing was broken in the first place.
He changed tactics. He pulled a chair over, keeping a respectful distance, and opened his laptop. "Okay. No singing. Not for me."
He navigated to the company's trainee archive, a place he knew like the back of his hand. He found her file and pulled up a vocal practice she'd recorded eight months ago. It was labeled 'Solo Session 3'. No instructors, no evaluators. Just her and a microphone.
He pressed play.
The voice that filled the small room was breathtaking. It was pure, clear, and carried a raw, aching emotion that no amount of training could fake. It was the sound of the S+ Vocal talent his system had promised. It was the voice of a future legend.
Mina flinched as if the sound had physically struck her. She squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body tense.
As he watched her, a new line of text appeared on her stat screen. It wasn't blue or gold. It was a stark, angry red.
[Trauma Trigger: The sound of a judged performance.]
[Origin: Starforce public audition, 2 years prior. Judge: Composer Kim Tae-sung.]
Yoo-jin's blood ran cold. Kim Tae-sung. They called him the 'Idol Killer'. A genius composer, but a notoriously cruel judge, famous for his brutal, career-ending critiques that had made more than one promising teenager quit on the spot.
He quickly searched the name on his phone. Articles and clips flooded the screen. "Your voice is an insult to music." "You have the stage presence of a dead fish." "Quit now and save yourself the embarrassment."
He looked at Mina, who was trembling just from hearing her own beautiful voice. She hadn't just been criticized. She'd been psychologically broken by an industry monster in front of hundreds of people. And for two years, everyone at this company had just called her weak for not getting over it.
A cold, hard anger settled in Yoo-jin's gut. This wasn't just about winning his bet anymore.
The door was suddenly thrown open with a loud bang, shattering the fragile peace.
A girl with sharp, feline eyes and an arrogant smirk stood in the doorway. She was flanked by two other trainees who looked at her with a mixture of admiration and fear. It was Lee Hana, the undisputed ace of Starforce's trainees.
Yoo-jin's eyes flickered to her stat screen.
[Name: Lee Hana]
[Potential: A-Rank (Main Dancer, Lead Vocal)]
[Current Status: Company favorite. Views Choi Mina as an obstacle to be removed.]
An A-Rank. Formidable. The company was betting everything on her. And she saw Mina as a threat.
"So this is the charity case's new hideout," Hana said, her voice dripping with scorn. She looked around the dusty room in disgust. "Are you teaching her how to cry on cue, Assistant Manager Han? It's the only skill she has."
Her friends snickered. Mina shrank back, trying to become invisible.
Yoo-jin stood up, deliberately placing himself between Hana and Mina. His expression was calm, but his eyes were hard. "This room is assigned to us for the next month. If you have an issue, take it to Director Park."
Hana's smirk widened. She wasn't intimidated. "Oh, I don't have an issue. This is hilarious. I just came to watch the train wreck up close before you and your little failure are kicked out for good."
She gave Mina one last look of pure contempt, a predator sizing up wounded prey. Then she turned and left, her laughter echoing down the empty hall.
The air she left behind felt toxic.
The encounter had done its damage. Yoo-jin glanced at Mina's stat screen. The anxiety level was flashing.
[Anxiety: 99%]
He felt a surge of frustration. How could he fix her here? This building, these rooms, the other trainees—they were all part of the cage that held her captive. Every mirrored wall reminded her of being judged. Every person who walked by was a potential critic.
Practicing here was useless. It was like trying to treat a phobia of spiders by locking someone in a room full of them.
A radical, insane idea sparked in his mind. Her trauma was tied to a formal stage, a formal judgment. The solution wasn't to make her stronger inside the cage.
It was to get her out of it completely.
He snapped his laptop shut, the sound making Mina jump. He stood up, a new, decisive energy in his movements.
"Pack a bag. We're getting out of here."
Mina looked up, her eyes wide with confusion, the first real expression he'd seen on her face all day. "Out? Out where?"
Yoo-jin grabbed his jacket, a glint of defiance in his eyes that mirrored the fire in his gut.
"To a place with a bigger stage than this company could ever offer."