The air in the Aura Management war room was no longer stale with despair; it was thin and sharp with a frantic, focused energy. The OmniCorp press release was projected onto the whiteboard, the four-week deadline a ticking time bomb at its center. Despair was a luxury they could no longer afford. Yoo-jin stood before his core creative team—Jin, Da-eun, Chae-rin, and the reclusive genius Kang Ji-won, who had been pulled from his studio sanctuary for this critical meeting.
"Four weeks," Yoo-jin said, his voice sharp and decisive, cutting through the tension. "Twenty-eight days. To write, produce, record, mix, master, and launch a full studio album. An album that not only has to be a commercial success but also has to go head-to-head with a global marketing machine and an AI that has been engineered for pop perfection. By any rational measure, it's impossible."
He paused, letting the weight of that word settle over them. Then, a fierce, predatory glint appeared in his eyes. "So, we're going to do it."
This was not a pep talk. It was a declaration of intent. Yoo-jin knew that in a race this tight, they couldn't afford to wait for inspiration to strike like lightning. He had to become the lightning. He had to manufacture it.
He took a quiet breath and activated his Producer's Eye. The familiar, cool blue interface shimmered into existence in his vision, a layer of pure data overlaid on the anxious faces of his artists. He was no longer just their CEO; he was their system architect, preparing to debug their creative code. He performed a baseline scan of the newly formed supergroup, Aura Chimera.
The data flickered, painting a complex picture of their current creative state.
[Analyzing Unit: Aura Chimera]
[Jin: Creative State: Volatile (Anger/Resolve LV 8). Current Synergy with Da-eun: 65%. Current Synergy with Chae-rin: 75%.]
[Da-eun: Creative State: Focused (Protective/Aggressive LV 9). Current Synergy with Jin: 65%. Current Synergy with Kang Ji-won: 80%.]
[Chae-rin: Creative State: Analytical (Empathetic/Calm LV 7). Current Synergy with Jin: 75%. Current Synergy with Kang Ji-won: 85%.]
[Kang Ji-won: Creative State: Inspired (Combative LV 8). Overall Synergy with group: High.]
The numbers told the story. Ji-won was a universal donor, his genius meshing with everyone. The bond between Chae-rin and Jin, forged in their shared trauma, was strong. But the crucial link, the one that was supposed to be the fiery heart of the group, was the weakest. Jin and Da-eun. Their 65% synergy was a bottleneck, a creative traffic jam that would slow the entire project down.
"Jin, Da-eun," Yoo-jin said, his voice pulling them to attention. "The anthem of defiance. The track we discussed. It's not working yet, is it? Let's hear what you have."
They exchanged a hesitant look. Da-eun plugged her guitar into a small practice amp while Jin queued up a rough demo on the room's sound system. The track that filled the room was disjointed, a frustrating mess. It was two great artists performing in the same room, but not in the same song. Da-eun's part was a blast of raw, powerful rock energy, a furious wall of sound. Jin's melody, woven through it, was clean, melodic, and felt strangely restrained, almost polite in the face of her onslaught.
As they played, Yoo-jin focused his Eye exclusively on the two of them, the data streams intensifying. The system gave him the diagnosis he needed.
[Synergy Conflict Detected: Mismatched Artistic Intent]
[Analysis: Jin is subconsciously reverting to 'Eclipse-era' melodic structures. He is trying to construct a perfect, commercially viable hook. Da-eun perceives this structural perfection as 'inauthentic' and is musically resisting, attempting to overpower it with raw emotional force.]
They weren't collaborating. They were fighting a subconscious battle for the song's soul.
"Stop," Yoo-jin commanded, holding up a hand. The discordant music cut off abruptly. "It's not working because you're not listening to each other. You're trying to win an argument."
He looked at Da-eun. "You're treating this like a battle of wills. You're trying to drown his melody with sheer energy because it feels too polished for you. You think you're being authentic, but you're just being loud."
Da-eun flinched, but she didn't argue. He was right.
Then he turned to Jin. "And you. You're trying to find a perfect pop hook to surgically insert into a rock song. You're falling back on your training, on what you know sells. You're trying to force her raw power into a neat, three-minute box. You're not being creative; you're being safe."
Jin looked down at his hands, a flicker of shame in his eyes.
Yoo-jin's voice softened, shifting from critic to director. He was about to rewrite their creative algorithm. "Forget the song for a minute. Forget about the album. Forget about Nam Gyu-ri. I want you both to think about a single emotion."
He looked directly at Jin. "Forget everything you learned at Stellar. Forget about writing a hit single. I want you to create a rhythm line. Just bass and drums. No melody. No chords. I want it to represent your anger. The cold, quiet rage you feel when you think about what was stolen from you. I want it to be the sound of a heart beating in a cage. Can you do that?"
Jin nodded slowly, a new understanding dawning in his eyes.
Yoo-jin then turned to Da-eun. "And you. Forget about lyrics. Forget about being the powerful vocalist. I want you to find a single, pure guitar riff. Just a few notes. I don't want it to represent aggression or defiance. I want it to represent loyalty. The feeling you have in this room, right now, knowing we are all here to protect him. I want it to sound like a shield being raised. Can you do that?"
Da-eun met his gaze, her expression clearing. She understood. He wasn't asking them to merge their styles; he was asking them to connect their emotions.
"Let's try it again," Yoo-jin said quietly.
Jin went to a keyboard connected to the console and started programming a new drum pattern—it was stark, relentless, a tight, controlled rhythm filled with simmering rage. Then he added a simple, pulsing bassline beneath it.
Da-eun closed her eyes, listening. Then, she began to play. It wasn't a wall of sound. It was a clean, clear, ascending guitar riff—fierce but not angry, a melody that felt like a protective arm wrapping around Jin's caged rhythm.
It was hesitant at first, the two sounds feeling each other out. Then, they clicked. They began to weave together, Jin's angry, percussive heartbeat and Da-eun's loyal, soaring melody intertwining to create something new. It was powerful, unique, and emotionally resonant.
Yoo-jin watched them, his Producer's Eye tracking the data in real time. The synergy metric on his display began to climb, steady and sure. 75%... 85%... 92%...
He had done it. He hadn't just given them advice; he had analyzed their emotional source code and rewritten it, engineering a creative breakthrough that might have taken them weeks to find on their own.
He let them play, a slow smile spreading across his face. He then turned his attention to Ji-won and Chae-rin, already planning his next intervention, his next optimization. He wasn't just their producer anymore. He was the ghost in their machine, the algorithm that would allow them to do the impossible.