The world was a camera lens, and Choi Mina was trapped in its glare.
For one frozen second, the noisy Hongdae square went silent in Yoo-jin's ears. All he could see was Mina's pale, shocked face and the cruel, triumphant smirk on Lee Hana's.
Then, instinct took over.
He lunged forward, shoving his own body between Mina and Hana's phone. The lens, which had been focused on Mina's terror, was now filled with his angry face. He grabbed Mina's arm, his grip firm. "We're leaving. Now."
Hana lowered her phone, her smirk never wavering. She'd already won. "Running away? It's too late for that. I got everything I need."
Yoo-jin didn't waste a single word on her. He pulled a stunned, robotic Mina away from the microphone stand, pushing through the confused onlookers who were just beginning to whisper and point. He could feel her whole body shaking like a leaf caught in a storm.
He didn't look back. There was nothing to see but the small, smug red dot of Hana's phone, a predator's eye that had captured its kill.
He half-dragged, half-led her down the street and into the first deserted back alley he could find. It was a narrow, grimy space that smelled of garbage and rain, covered in layers of colorful, peeling graffiti. The vibrant sounds of Hongdae were suddenly a distant, muffled roar.
The moment they were out of sight, Mina's legs gave out. She slid down the rough brick wall, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face.
She wasn't crying. It was worse.
Her breaths came in short, sharp, desperate gasps. A horrible, panicked wheezing sound. She was hyperventilating, drowning on dry land.
Yoo-jin's stomach clenched. He looked at the stat screen above her head and a cold dread washed over him. It was a sea of crimson text.
[Anxiety: 100% (Critical)]
[Trauma Recall: Active]
[Status: Catatonic State Imminent]
A helpless fury surged through him. Fury at Hana for her calculated cruelty. Fury at himself for not seeing it coming, for letting this happen. He had promised to protect her, and he had failed.
He crouched in front of her, his own heart pounding. "Mina. Breathe. Just breathe." His voice was clumsy, inadequate. He wasn't a doctor or a therapist. But he was all she had.
"Look at me," he said, his voice softer this time. "You're not there. You're not at that audition. You're here with me, in an alley in Hongdae. You're safe."
Slowly, shakily, she lifted her head. Her eyes were wide with a terror that wasn't in the present. She was looking right through him, seeing the ghost of Composer Kim Tae-sung. But she was looking. It was a start.
His phone buzzed. A harsh, intrusive sound in the quiet desperation of the alley.
He pulled it out. It was a message from an unknown number. He opened it.
It was the video.
The clip was short, brutal, and perfectly framed. It started with the last, soaring notes of Mina's song—a voice so beautiful it was heartbreaking. Then the shock of the mask being ripped away. The clip lingered for a full five seconds on her terrified, exposed face before cutting to black. It was a digital assassination.
Before he could even process it, a second message appeared. The sender's name was just one word.
Hana.
The message below it was simple and direct. An executioner's order.
She quits the company by tomorrow morning. Or this video goes straight to Director Park. And then to every gossip forum online. Your choice.
Ice flooded Yoo-jin's veins. This wasn't just a mean-spirited prank. This was cold, calculated blackmail. Hana wasn't trying to win the evaluation. She was trying to surgically remove Mina from the company, from the industry, and salt the earth so she could never come back.
He had thought he was dealing with a jealous teenager. He was wrong. He was dealing with a monster. A monster that the company was grooming to be its next star.
Yoo-jin stood up and paced the narrow alley, the phone feeling like a block of ice in his hand. His mind raced, cycling through a dozen useless plans.
Call her bluff? Hana wasn't bluffing. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Go to Director Park? Park would see the video and use it as the perfect excuse to terminate Mina's contract and fire him on the spot. He'd probably thank Hana for solving his problem.
His first instinct, his deepest urge, was to protect Mina. To shield her. Even if it meant giving in. He had dragged her into this. He had made her face her fears, only to see them realized in the worst possible way.
He knelt in front of her again. Her breathing had steadied, but she was still staring into space, broken.
"Mina…" he started, his own voice sounding hollow. "Maybe this is too much. What she did… it's not fair. No one would blame you if you wanted to stop."
The words felt like poison in his mouth, but he had to say them. He had to give her an out.
Mina, who had been silent and lost, finally focused on his face. Her voice was a raw, hoarse whisper. "She… she wants me to quit."
The simple, spoken fact seemed to cut through her haze of panic. It wasn't a random attack. It wasn't a public humiliation. It was a targeted strike with a single goal: to make her disappear.
A tiny, dangerous spark ignited in her tear-filled eyes. It was the first real emotion he'd seen in her besides fear. It was anger.
"She thinks I'm a threat," Mina whispered, the thought both terrifying and, in a strange way, validating. After two years of being treated like a failure, someone finally saw her as a rival to be eliminated.
She looked at Yoo-jin, her expression hardening with a fragile, newfound resolve.
"I don't want to quit."
Yoo-jin stared at her, at that tiny spark fighting for its life in the hurricane of her fear. And in that moment, a new, dangerous plan clicked into place in his mind. A plan that was just as ruthless as Hana's.
He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Hana's message.
"Good," he said, a cold, sharp smile touching his lips for the first time. "Because we're not running. We're going to use this."