The creative energy in the studio was electric. Under Yoo-jin's precise, alchemical guidance, the disjointed parts of Aura Chimera were beginning to fuse into a cohesive, powerful whole. The impossible four-week deadline no longer felt like a death sentence; it felt like a challenge they could actually meet. But later that night, after the artists had retired to their respective studios, exhausted but inspired, Yoo-jin retreated to the silent sanctuary of the war room. The thrill of the creative breakthrough was already fading, replaced by a cold, nagging reality.
He sat with Min-ji, the two of them staring at the OmniCorp press release still projected on the main screen. The triumphant, corporate-speak announcement of Kai's debut felt like a taunt.
"Four weeks is not enough time to produce a full album from scratch," Yoo-jin said, voicing the thought that had been bothering him all day. "Even for us. Which means there is no way they are just starting production on Kai's single now."
"Agreed," Min-ji said, pulling up a projected timeline. "Based on standard industry production schedules, even for a priority project, the song has to be finished. The track is already written, recorded, mixed, and mastered. They're sitting on a finished product, waiting for the most impactful launch date. Their confidence is absolute."
"Which means they might have gotten sloppy," Yoo-jin mused, his eyes narrowing. "Confidence leads to arrogance. Arrogance leads to mistakes." He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the title of Kai's debut single as if it were a coded message he needed to decipher.
Hollow Soul.
It was a perfect title—evocative, melancholic, and perfectly tailored to a global youth market grappling with feelings of alienation. It was also, he suspected, a window into Nam Gyu-ri's own psyche.
He closed his eyes for a moment, shutting out the light of the room and focusing his will inward. He activated his Producer's Eye, but this time he pushed it in a new, abstract direction. He wasn't looking at a person, a team, or even a tangible piece of music. He was attempting to analyze a concept, a ghost. He focused all of his perception on the two words on the screen.
The system in his vision flickered, the familiar blue interface struggling to process the unusual input.
[Analyzing Conceptual Title: "Hollow Soul".]
A stream of data points appeared, but they were the kind of top-level analysis any competent marketing AI could produce.
[Primary Emotion: Melancholy (Simulated)]
[Lyrical Theme (Projected): Existential Longing, Identity Crisis]
[Target Demographic: Global Youth (Ages 14-24)]
[Commercial Viability Index: S-Rank]
"Useless," Yoo-jin muttered under his breath. This was just confirming that Nam Gyu-ri was good at her job. This was the song's armor. He needed to find the crack beneath it. "It's not enough. I need more. I need to find her fingerprint."
He thought back to Chae-rin's piercing analysis from the day before—that Kai was not just an OmniCorp product, but a deeply personal expression of Nam Gyu-ri's own artistic ideals and her thirst for revenge. The AI wasn't a blank slate. It was a vessel for its creator.
He closed his eyes again, recalibrating his entire approach. He stopped trying to analyze the song as a standalone product. Instead, he focused his ability on its creator. He pictured Nam Gyu-ri in his mind's eye—her ambition, her bitterness, her history, the trainee whose dreams he had crushed. He tried to analyze the song throughthe lens of her soul.
The interface in his vision pulsed, a new command appearing.
[Recalibrating Analysis... Tying Concept to Creator Profile: Nam Gyu-ri (Stellar Trainee Era)]
The data streams began to shift, reconfiguring. The generic marketing analysis faded, replaced by something deeper, more intrinsic, more… flawed. A new line of data flickered into existence, a strange anomaly that shouldn't have been there.
[Hidden Trait Detected: Artistic Signature Mismatch]
Yoo-jin's focus intensified. This was it.
[Description: The song's core melodic framework and vocal timbre are based on a 98.7% accurate analysis of Jin's 'Eclipse-era' musical DNA. However, the lyrical sentiment algorithms, underlying chord progressions, and specific harmonic choices contain trace elements from a secondary, incompatible artistic profile.]
His heart began to pound. He pushed the analysis deeper.
[Cross-referencing secondary profile against known musical databases... Match Found. Source Profile: Nam Gyu-ri (Unreleased Demo Recordings, pre-Stellar Debut Competition).]
Yoo-jin's eyes snapped open, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. He had found it. The ghost in the machine. The tell-tale heartbeat.
"I found it," he said, his voice filled with a quiet, triumphant disbelief. "I found her fatal flaw."
Min-ji spun her chair around, her eyes wide. "What is it? A technical glitch? A legal loophole in the copyright?"
"No," Yoo-jin said, shaking his head in wonder at the sheer, poetic arrogance of his nemesis. "Something far more human. She couldn't help herself."
He explained, his voice filled with a newfound confidence. "She built Kai from the ghost of Jin's music, yes. That was the plan. But her own ego, her own pride as the 'betrayed artist,' was too strong to let her create a perfect copy. She couldn't resist putting a piece of herself into her masterpiece. She injected her own musical DNA into the final product."
He stood up and began to pace, the full implication of his discovery energizing him. "Her old melodic habits, her preferred minor-key chord progressions from when she was a trainee… it's all in there. Like a signature hidden in the corner of a painting. 'Hollow Soul' is not a perfect AI replication of Jin. It's a chimera. A hybrid of Jin's soul and her ambition."
He stopped pacing and looked at Min-ji, his eyes gleaming. He finally understood the song's true weakness.
"And that's why it will fail. A song built from two conflicting artistic souls, one real and one remembered, can't be emotionally perfect. There will be a dissonance. A moment in the song where the melody, the harmony, and the lyric don't quite align. A tell-tale heartbeat that isn't quite right. It will be almost imperceptible to most people, but it will be there. A lie hidden in a mathematically perfect song."