The phone line connected with a sharp click after a single, breathless ring.
"Kang Min-hyuk speaking." The voice was crisp, devoid of any sleepiness. It was the voice of a man who had been waiting.
Haneul's own voice was a dry rasp. He swallowed, gripping the phone tightly. "CEO-nim. This is Seo Haneul. From Café Monochrome." He paused, the title feeling absurd on his tongue. "I... I accept your offer."
A long, heavy sigh of relief came through the receiver. It was a sound of such profound release that Haneul could almost feel the tension leaving the man's body. "Good," Min-hyuk said, his voice now charged with purpose. "That's very good. My office. 10 AM sharp. I'm sending the address to your phone now. Don't be late, Haneul-ssi. Your new life starts tomorrow."
The line went dead. Haneul stared at his phone as a new message popped up with a Gangnam address. He didn't sleep. He spent the night caught in a strange limbo between terror and a fragile, burgeoning hope.
The hardest part was the first official act of his new life: dismantling the old one. At dawn, he called Mrs. Ahn, the kind, elderly woman who owned Café Monochrome and quit his job. The final link to his quiet, predictable world was severed.
An hour later, he found the Starlight Entertainment building in Gangnam. It was a respectable size, but the logo above the door was slightly faded, a building that had seen better days. Inside, the air hummed with nervous energy. He saw a group of boys in stylish tracksuits, one of whom shot him a dismissive look, muttering something about a "new janitor." The sting of the comment cemented his status as an intruder. He was escorted to the top floor.
Kang Min-hyuk stood waiting in his office, a shrine to a more glorious, now-dusty past. On the large mahogany desk lay a thick document. The contract.
Min-hyuk gestured to the chair. "This document," he began, his tone sober and direct, "is your cage and your key. It will demand more from you than you think you have to give. Your time, your privacy, your old life—they will belong to the company for the next seven years." He pushed the document forward. "And as of my call to the bank this morning, your family's debts are being settled. The signing bonus will be wired to your account the moment you sign."
Haneul's eyes caught on the words "seven years." He pictured it. Seven years of sharing a room, a bathroom, every waking moment. Seven years with no solitude, no quiet corner to let his thoughts breathe. No space to write music. The promise of a future was tangled with the threat of a personal hell. He looked at Min-hyuk, his resolve hardening.
He pushed the pen away. "CEO-nim. Before I sign... I have one condition."
Min-hyuk's eyebrows shot up. He was clearly taken aback. "A condition? You are in no position to be making demands."
"I know," Haneul said, his voice quiet but firm. "And I will live in the dorms. I will do the training. I will do everything you ask of me. But not for seven years." He met the CEO's gaze. "This contract is for seven years. I can't... create... in a crowd for that long. My music, the thing you said you needed, it comes from being alone. If I debut, and if we are successful, I want the option to live in my own apartment after the first year."
Min-hyuk stared at him, a mix of annoyance and surprise on his face. "That's not how this works. Group unity is paramount. You live together, you eat together, you succeed together. It's non-negotiable."
"Then I can't sign," Haneul said, the words shocking even himself. "You said you need my truth. The truth is, if you lock me in a dorm for seven years, the voice you heard in the café will be gone. You'll be left with an empty shell."
A tense silence filled the room. Min-hyuk studied Haneul, seeing past the simple clothes and shy demeanor to the steel underneath. He had gambled on Haneul being different, and this was the proof. This wasn't arrogance; it was self-preservation. And it was smart. A slow smile touched Min-hyuk's lips. He respected it.
"Alright," he said, leaning back in his chair. He picked up his phone and pressed a button. "Attorney Park, please come to my office. We need to draft an addendum to the trainee contract." Turning back to Haneul, he said, "Here is the deal. Upon a successful debut, which I define as at least one win on a major music show or selling 100,000 albums within the first year, you will be permitted to move into a company-approved apartment. Until then, you are in the dorm with the others. No exceptions. Is that acceptable?"
It was a goal, not a guarantee. His freedom was conditional on their success. But it was a chance. It was more than he had a minute ago.
"Yes, CEO-nim," Haneul said, a wave of relief washing over him. "That is acceptable."
A few minutes later, a revised contract lay on the desk with the new clause included as an official addendum. Min-hyuk pushed the heavy fountain pen across the desk once more.
Haneul read the addendum carefully. Then he looked at the final page, at the empty line waiting for his name. He thought of his mother's words, Will it let your heart speak? With this one small victory, he felt it might.
He picked up the pen. Its weight felt immense, a symbol of the burden—and the opportunity—he was accepting. With a hand that was now perfectly steady, he signed his name.
Seo Haneul.
The dark ink settled into the paper, a binding promise. The barista was gone. A trainee with a future to earn, and a secret clause to fight for, had just been created.