The karaoke room was soundproofed like a containment cell — walls padded, lights neon-pink, and a single mic standing at the center like an execution post.
Raon sat on the sofa, arms folded.
Shion sat beside her, tablet glowing with an official Bureau seal.
Across from them stood the facilitator: Harmony Coordinator Mei-Ling, Hero Bureau Department of Morale & Sonic Rehabilitation.
Her badge read: "Certified Emotional Resonance Officer."
> "Alright, heroes!" Mei-Ling clapped twice, far too cheerfully. "Today's session will assess your capacity for emotional synergy through karaoke expression!"
Raon blinked. "We're… doing karaoke."
"Mandatory karaoke," Shion corrected, scanning the memo. "Clause 14-B, Subsection Vibe Maintenance."
Raon leaned back. "I'd rather fight a kaiju."
"You did," Shion replied. "Last week. And this is somehow scarier."
---
Mei-Ling pointed to the holo-screen.
It projected a queue of songs: 'Never Skip the Beat,' 'Power is Tempo,' and 'Love Resonance (Synthra Cover).'
Shion whispered, "They're all propaganda tracks."
Raon shrugged. "I'll just freestyle."
"NO IMPROVISATION!" Mei-Ling yelped, as if she'd just heard blasphemy. "Freestyle emits unauthorized emotional frequencies!"
Raon's eyebrow twitched. "You're kidding."
Shion deadpanned. "She's not."
---
The first round began.
Shion sang a data-ballad in perfect pitch, complete with synchronized holographic graphs showing her emotional balance ratio.
It scored 92.3% Empathic Output Efficiency.
Raon clapped once.
Slowly.
Then Mei-Ling turned to her.
"Your turn, Miss Raon."
Raon rose, stretched her arm, cracked her neck — like she was preparing for combat.
The lights dimmed. The mic buzzed.
A beat started.
Then—
> "I woke up late.
Kicked a god.
Lost my rent.
Still hot."
BAM.
The mic stand exploded.
The holo-screen shattered into static.
Mei-Ling's device registered:
> ERROR: Emotional Output Exceeded Decibel Limit. Hero Instability Risk — MAX.
Raon handed back the half-melted mic.
"Guess I passed?"
Mei-Ling's eye twitched. "You destroyed three compliance metrics in one verse."
Shion sighed. "That's still an improvement."
---
An alarm blared through the Bureau hall.
Shion's tablet vibrated with an incoming call from Director Dome.
> "You two. My office. Now."
Raon frowned. "Is it about the karaoke?"
Dome's voice crackled. "It's always about the karaoke."
---
Post-credits stinger:
In a dark data server, hidden deep beneath the Bureau's basement, the damaged mic flickered back to life.
A faint digital hum whispered through the static.
> "Emotional frequency… detected. Syncing resonance seed…"
The mic pulsed once — glowing with faint, rhythmic basslight.