The cavernous, cathedral-like space of Kang Ji-won's main recording studio, Studio A, had become a gilded cage. It was a creative sanctuary, a place where musical magic was born, but now it had been repurposed as a high-security bunker. The thick, soundproofed walls that were designed to capture the purest notes now served to lock out the dangerous world outside.
Ahn Da-eun sat on a plush leather sofa in the center of the control room, staring blankly at the massive, silent mixing board. She was surrounded by the tools of her trade—microphones worth more than cars, guitars that were legends in their own right—but they offered no comfort. Go Min-young sat with her, a silent, worried presence, unsure of what to say. In the corner, the studio's reclusive genius, Kang Ji-won, hovered nervously, his usual creative energy replaced by a quiet, protective anxiety.
"You're safe here, Da-eun," Min-young finally said, her voice soft. "Truly. This is the most secure room in the building. Yoo-jin will handle this. He always does. We'll just… we'll keep you here until it's all over."
Da-eun didn't respond for a long moment. She traced the seam on the leather sofa with her finger. Then she spoke, her voice dangerously low, a rumble that came from deep in her chest.
"Until it's over?" she repeated, the question sharp as broken glass. "And what if it's never over, Min-young? Am I supposed to live the rest of my life in a soundproof box? Am I supposed to give up the sky and the sun because some lunatic in a dark room gets his thrills from terrorizing me?"
She stood up abruptly, the sudden movement startling the other two. She began to pace the room like a caged panther, her lithe frame coiled with a furious energy that was far more potent than fear. The victim who had been rushed from the café was gone. The woman who had built her career on a foundation of defiant strength was taking her place.
"That man… Ryu…" she said, her voice growing stronger, laced with a cold rage. "He didn't just threaten me. He took a moment of my peace, a simple cup of coffee, and he turned it into a weapon. He wants me to be scared. He wants me to hide. He wants me to feel powerless. And everything Yoo-jin is doing right now—hiding me away in this bunker, taking my phone, cutting me off from the world—is giving him exactly what he wants. He's winning. Right now, at this very moment, he is winning."
"He's just trying to protect you!" Min-young insisted, standing up as well.
"This isn't protection!" Da-eun shot back, whirling to face her friend. "This is a victory for him! This is surrender! The Roar doesn't hide in a basement!"
The control room door opened and Han Yoo-jin entered. He looked utterly exhausted, the ordeal of sending Kwon Ji-hyuk to his public crucifixion having drained the last of his energy. He had come to check on Da-eun, to reassure her, but he walked directly into a rebellion.
Da-eun met him in the center of the room, her chin high, her eyes blazing. "I'm not doing this, Yoo-jin," she said, her voice clear and unwavering. "I will not be your frightened little bird in a gilded cage."
Yoo-jin sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was too tired for this fight. "Da-eun, be reasonable. This man is dangerous. He's unstable. We don't know what he's capable of."
"Then let's be dangerous back," she countered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that crackled with intensity. "He wants to watch me? He wants to see if I'll break? Fine. Let's give him a show he'll never forget."
Yoo-jin stared at her, a sense of deep unease settling over him. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm going to hold a concert," she said, the words hanging in the air, audacious and insane. "Not in a stadium. Not in a theater. A surprise, guerilla concert. Somewhere public. A park, a city square, I don't care. We announce it an hour before it starts. We livestream it to the world. We dare him to show up. We dare him to try something in front of thousands of my fans. We show him, and we show everyone who saw that disgusting GIF on your lobby wall, that I am not afraid."
The proposal was so monumentally reckless that Yoo-jin could only stare at her in stunned disbelief.
"Absolutely not," he said, his voice hard and immediate. All the fatigue vanished, replaced by the firm authority of her producer and protector. "That is an unacceptable security risk. You would be a sitting duck. I forbid it."
It was the wrong word to use.
Da-eun's eyes flashed with a fire he hadn't seen since the day she had first found her voice and stood up to her abusive, controlling father. It was the same fire, the same refusal to be controlled.
"You don't get to forbid me from being myself, Yoo-jin," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "Hiding is losing. Cowering is admitting defeat. I didn't sign my life over to Aura Management so I could lose. This is my name, my face, my life he's attacking. We either fight back—my way—or I will walk out of this studio, find the nearest reporter, and give them a story they'll never forget. Your choice."
It was an ultimatum. He stared at her, seeing not just his fragile, priceless asset, but a powerful, defiant woman forged in fire. He saw the rock star he had helped create, now turning that indomitable strength on him. And in that moment, he knew she was right. Hiding was a slow death. It was letting Ryu win the psychological war without firing another shot. This was her fight, and she had just chosen her weapon.
A long, tense silence filled the room. Kang Ji-won and Go Min-young held their breath. Finally, with a deep sense of dread that coiled in his gut, Yoo-jin gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.
"Fine," he breathed. "We do it your way."
An hour later, after a flurry of frantic, secret preparations, a new post went live on all of Aura's official social media channels, which had just been brought back online. The post was a stark, black image with bold white text, a minimalist design that stood out like a siren in the colorful flood of entertainment news. It read:
TONIGHT. 9 PM.
Ahn Da-eun.
A free concert for the fearless.
Location to be announced at 8 PM.
#TheRoarWillNotBeSilenced