The manager stepped into the room with two men. One was the company's producer. The other—a heavyset man draped in gold chains and rings. As soon as the girls saw him, the air turned cold. None of them dared to meet his eyes.
This was Mr. Tang—the CEO. The man who once promised them the world… only to shatter their dreams one broken promise at a time. Tang, now 56, tried to dress and move like a man in his thirties, but his face—weathered and drawn—betrayed the truth. He looked closer to 60.
"Good evening, girls," he began, voice slick with practiced charm. "I know your manager told you about the company's situation. And yes… it's not looking great. But we can still turn things around."
The girls shifted uncomfortably. Their eyes were on him now, but none with hope.
"I listened to the three tracks," he continued, his smile a little too wide, a little too forced. "And I have to say… we might have something here. Money, girls. Money. Here's what I'm thinking—we sell Gravity and Starlight Sinners, and keep Orbit for ourselves. We'll make profit from all three."
He rubbed his hands together slowly, the gold on his fingers catching the fluorescent light in sharp, greedy flashes. The rest of the girls nodded, nervous and eager to agree. But Haneul didn't move. Her eyes stayed locked on the CEO, burning with quiet rage.
"Oh, and Haneul…" Tang turned to her, his tone shifting slightly. "The boy who made those songs—I want to meet him. We need him to help record his work. And if he can produce more like those, even better."
Haneul's jaw tightened. She took a long breath before answering, voice steady.
"I'll talk to him. But if he doesn't want to come… I can't force him."
Tang's smile faded. He stepped toward her, his voice now low and cold.
"My dear Haneul… you will make him come. Otherwise, I shut this company down. Do you understand?" He leaned in, close enough for her to smell the cologne covering old sweat. "I feed you. I own you. Get that through your head."
He was still advancing when the manager stepped between them.
"CEO, please," she said quickly. "I'll speak with her. She'll bring the boy. Right, Haneul?"
The desperation in her voice wasn't hidden.
Haneul swallowed hard. "Fine. I'll bring him tomorrow."
Tang's grin returned.
"Good girl. And look at that—talking back to me now. You're growing a spine." He laughed, a hollow, smug sound that echoed off the studio walls. "Bring him to the studio. 9:00 AM sharp. Don't be late."
He turned and left, still chuckling to himself.
"What a jerk. Shibal," the manager muttered once he was gone. She turned to Haneul with a sigh. "I know he wrote those songs with your group in mind. But please… take one for the team."
"I know," Haneul said quietly. "I'll talk to Thato. I'm only doing this because you asked me to… unni."
The manager softened at the word. "That's good to hear. You can all head home."
She turned to the tired staff, bowing low.
"I know we haven't paid your salaries yet. But please… hang in there. I'll find a way."
"We know, Manager," one of the staff said.
"We're a family," added another.
"Fighting!" a third called out, raising a fist.
Haneul watched them and managed a small smile. Then she stepped aside, pulled out her phone, and dialed.
Ring… ring…
"Did you talk to them?" Thato answered immediately. "What'd they say? They hated the songs, didn't they? I knew I should've done more—"
"Relax," Haneul interrupted gently. "They loved them. But… can we meet at the café near the company? I need to talk to you."
"Okay. I'll be there in 30 minutes."
"Thank you, Thato."
She ended the call. The screen read 19:23.
"Another twelve hours of my life… gone just like that," she murmured. She looked up at the sky, her expression weary.
"I didn't sign up for this shit."
30 minutes later…
A girl in a mask sat alone in a small café, scrolling through her phone. Her black cap was pulled low over her eyes, her hood up. Her iced Americano sat untouched, condensation pooling beneath it.
She didn't look up when a boy approached.
"Hey," he said.
"Sorry," she replied, not glancing up. "I'm waiting for someone. You can take that seat over there—"
The boy chuckled, pulling off his glasses and mask. "Wow… my disguise actually worked on you?"
She blinked, then gasped softly. "Thato? Wow. I didn't even recognize you. Nice look."
"Yeah, yeah," he grinned. "You just missed my handsome face, admit it."
He slid into the seat across from her.
"You can order something—my treat," she offered.
"Nah, I'm good. Talk to me. I'm listening."
Haneul hesitated, folding her hands in her lap. The noise of the city hummed outside, faint jazz playing from the café speaker above them.
"I gave the songs to my manager. She passed them to the CEO. And… they loved them. All of them."
Thato's eyes widened. "Wow. I thought it'd take months to hear anything back. That's… insane. But you look like there's a catch."
"There is." She met his gaze. "The company's not doing well. But they think your songs could help turn things around. They want you to come to the studio… and be the producer."
He leaned back in his chair, staring at her for a long moment.
"That's… huge."
"I know."
"But you don't look happy."
"I'm not."
She looked down at her fingers, twisting the edge of a napkin nervously.
"Thato… I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate. But the CEO—he threatened to shut everything down. He said he owns us. And if I don't bring you tomorrow… that might be it. For all of us."
He didn't say anything. Just watched her for a moment, then looked out the window at the cars passing by.
"I wrote those songs for you," he finally said. "For you and the girls. You were all I could think about when I composed Orbit. I saw your voice in every line."
Haneul's throat tightened. "I know."
"I don't want to work with people like that," he added quietly. "But for you… maybe I can try."
Her eyes met his, and for the first time that day, something inside her softened. Hope flickered.
"Will you come?"
He sighed. "I'll come. But not for the CEO. Not even for the money."
"For me?"
He nodded. "For you."