Yoo-jin didn't take her to another agency or a private studio. He took her straight into the chaotic, beating heart of Seoul.
He led her out of the Hongdae subway station and into a hurricane of sight and sound. The streets were packed, a river of students, tourists, and artists flowing around them. Music blared from storefronts, the smell of street food hung in the air, and the neon signs of a dozen shops reflected in Mina's wide, terrified eyes.
She froze, her body going rigid. "I can't. I can't be here."
Her stat screen was a flashing red alarm. [Anxiety: 95%, Sensory Overload.]
She tried to pull her arm away, to retreat back into the safety of the subway station. "Everyone is looking at us."
Yoo-jin held firm, his grip gentle but insistent. He used his ability, his eyes scanning the faces in the crowd. Blue screens popped up everywhere. A group of girls. [Interest: Shopping for cosmetics]. A couple holding hands. [Interest: Finding a restaurant]. A tourist with a camera. [Interest: Taking a photo of that street performer].
"Look closer, Mina," he said, his voice low and calm in the chaos. "They're not looking at you. They're not even looking at me. They're all trapped in their own worlds."
He pointed to a guy staring intently at his phone while walking. "That guy is worried about a text message. Those girls are thinking about what lipstick to buy. Right now, to them, you're invisible."
It was a strange sort of comfort. Her anxiety didn't vanish, but it dropped a few crucial points. She was still terrified, but she stopped pulling away.
He led her through the throng until he stopped in front of a small street stall. It was filled with cheap jewelry, phone cases, and a rack of simple, elegant masks. Yoo-jin picked up a plain black one, the kind that covered the top half of the face, leaving only the mouth and chin exposed. He paid the vendor and held it out to her.
Mina stared at it, confused. "What's this for?"
"It's a shield," he said simply. "Composer Kim Tae-sung broke you because he stripped you bare and made you feel worthless under his judgment. You've been afraid of people's eyes ever since."
He looked her straight in the eye, his gaze unwavering. "Today, you won't be Choi Mina, the failed Starforce trainee. You'll just be a voice. A sound. No one will see you. They will only hear you."
The idea was terrifying. But it also resonated with a deep, desperate part of her. To sing without being seen. To share her voice without offering her soul for judgment. It was a lifeline.
Her fingers, still trembling, tentatively took the mask. It was cool and smooth in her hand. For the first time since he'd made his insane bet, a flicker of something other than pure fear appeared in her eyes.
It was a fragile, hesitant flicker of trust.
Yoo-jin found a spot in a slightly less crowded square, near a fountain where people sat to rest. He set down a small, portable amplifier and plugged in a single microphone. The whole setup was unassuming. Pathetic, even, compared to the company's million-dollar studios.
But it was theirs.
"Just one song," Yoo-jin encouraged her, his voice soft. "The one from the recording. Don't sing for them." He gestured to the people walking by. "Sing for yourself."
Mina's heart hammered against her ribs. This was crazy. This was impossible. But as she looked at Yoo-jin's steady, expectant face, she felt the weight of his sacrifice. He had bet his entire future on her. The least she could do was try.
She slipped the mask on. The world was instantly muted, the crowd fading into a peripheral blur. All she could see clearly was the microphone in front of her.
She took a shaky breath. Then another. For a long, heart-stopping moment, she just stood there, frozen. Then, she closed her eyes.
And she began to sing.
Her voice was thin at first, a fragile thread of sound in the noisy square. But as the melody took hold, something unlocked. Without the crushing weight of a thousand judging eyes, her voice began to open up, to soar. The pure, S+ quality that Yoo-jin had only heard on a recording now filled the open air.
A few passersby slowed down. A student on his phone looked up, his expression curious. An old couple sitting by the fountain turned their heads. Their own stat screens began to change. [Interest: Music (High)].
A small crowd began to form. Five people. Then ten. Then twenty. They weren't pushing or taking photos. They were just listening, their heads tilted, some even closing their eyes, completely lost in the sound of her voice.
Yoo-jin watched her stat screen, his own heart pounding with a wild, triumphant beat. [Anxiety: 70%... 60%... 55%...]. It was working.
Then he saw something else. The line that read [Charm: B (Suppressed)] began to flicker. For a split second, it flashed a brilliant, radiant gold. [Charm: A].
It was happening. He wasn't just saving her. He was awakening her.
Mina hit the chorus, her voice swelling with a power she hadn't touched in years. It was a moment of pure, fragile magic. A broken thing being made whole again, note by painful note.
A familiar, mocking voice cut through the air like shattering glass.
"Well, well. Look what we have here. I knew I'd find you slumming it."
Yoo-jin whipped his head around. Lee Hana was standing at the edge of the crowd, her two friends flanking her. She held up her phone, the red light of the recording button glowing like a malevolent eye. She must have followed them from the company.
Before Yoo-jin could move or even shout a warning, Hana pushed through the onlookers. She moved with the quick, vicious grace of a snake.
With a cruel, sharp yank, she ripped the mask from Mina's face.
Mina's song died in her throat, strangled by a choked gasp. She stood exposed, her face pale with shock, blinking in the harsh afternoon light.
She was staring into the curious eyes of a crowd of strangers, and into the cold, unforgiving lens of her rival's camera.