The silence that followed this unexpected advocacy was thick with surprise. PD, who rarely spoke more than necessary even in production meetings, had just delivered the most impassioned speech anyone could remember hearing.
Director Blake studied him thoughtfully. "An interesting perspective, PD. Are you suggesting we proceed with option three?"
"I'm suggesting we stop treating adults like managed assets and start treating them like the artists we claim to be developing," PD replied. "Yes, option three with appropriate implementation."
Director Blake turned to the seven members, who had been watching this exchange with varying degrees of hope and trepidation. "And what do you think? This situation affects your careers most directly."
The members exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Jon, as the eldest, spoke on behalf of the group.
"We all entered this industry knowing it would require sacrifices," he began carefully. "We've accepted that reality and are grateful for the opportunities we've been given. But..." he hesitated, searching for the right words, "we're also people whose ability to connect with audiences comes from our ability to convey emotion. How can we do that if we're not allowed to experience real life?"
Emboldened by Jon's statement, Julian jumped in with his usual enthusiasm. "We're not asking to flaunt relationships or distract from our work. We want to evolve so we can grow as artists."
"The experiences we've had during this break have influenced our creative perspectives," Roman added thoughtfully. "My composition approach has improved based on conversations about art interpretation that wouldn't have happened within our usual environment."
"Even if some of these connections don't ultimately become long-term relationships," Silas contributed, surprising everyone with his willingness to participate, "the experiences themselves have value for our growth."
"We're willing to be thoughtful about public presentation," James assured, thinking Muse had suddenly thrust into the spotlight. "We understand there are legitimate concerns about privacy and fan reactions."
"But we can't grow if we're kept in a perpetual state of manufactured innocence," Jake pointed out quietly.
"The heart observes no company protocols," Vic concluded cryptically, summarizing their collective sentiment.
Director Blake listened to each member with attention, his expression revealing nothing of his thoughts. When they finished, he turned to the executives.
"Prepare option three implementation," he instructed, causing a wave of surprised murmurs. "Media strategy with appropriate privacy safeguards. We'll position this as C7's natural evolution as artists and individuals."
He turned back to the members. "It means we won't actively deny or hide your personal growth, provided you maintain professional focus and appropriate discretion."
Seven stunned faces stared back at him, hardly daring to believe what they were hearing.
Director Blake continued, his tone turning serious, "There is the immediate issue of the photograph to address. James, this directly concerns you, your brother, and Ms. Song. What is your preference?"
James carefully considered, acutely aware that his decision would affect not just himself but also Evan and Muse. "I need to discuss this with both of them," he said finally. "This affects their privacy and reputations, too. I can't make that decision unilaterally."
Director Blake nodded, satisfied with this answer. "You have until tomorrow morning. After that, we must issue a statement regardless. The longer we remain silent, the more speculation grows."
The meeting concluded with executives filing out with their usual speed while PD slipped away quietly, avoiding eye contact as if embarrassed by his unexpected advocacy.
When only C7 and Manager Kando remained in the conference room, seven idols sat in stunned silence, processing the unexpected outcome.
"Did that just happen?" Julian finally asked, voice hushed with disbelief. "Did we get official permission to date?"
"More like acknowledgment of reality," Manager Kando corrected, looking both relieved and concerned. "And it comes with significant responsibilities. You'll need to be thoughtful about how you conduct yourselves."
"The moment this becomes public, everything changes," Roman pointed out soberly. "Fan interactions, public appearances, and social media engagement will take on new dimensions."
"Some LEGION will be supportive, others devastated," Jake acknowledged. "We need to be prepared for both reactions."
James's mind was already elsewhere as the members discussed the implications of this significant shift in their professional boundaries. He needed to contact Evan and Muse immediately. Whatever statement the company released would directly impact them, especially Muse, who had never signed up for public scrutiny.
Excusing himself, James stepped into the hallway to make the necessary calls, first Evan, then Muse. The conversations would be difficult, requiring honesty about the public situation and his private feelings.
The twin-switching complications had begun as an amusing workaround but had evolved into something potentially harmful. Muse deserved to know exactly who she was dealing with, not just which twin was which.
As he dialed Evan's number, James reflected that Director Blake's unexpected decision aligned perfectly with the purpose of their break: growth beyond the carefully maintained image they had presented for years. The dating project, which had begun as a semi-serious challenge among friends, had catalyzed personal development for all of them.
Evan answered on the first ring, his voice tight and concerned. "Please tell me you have a plan to fix this disaster."
"I need to talk to you and Muse," James replied, bypassing reassurances he could not honestly offer. "Together, preferably. This affects all of us, and we need to make decisions as a group."
"Muse's still here," Evan said, relief evident. "She's been stress-baking for the past hour. We currently have four dozen cookies and what appears to be the beginnings of a three-tier cake."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, James smiled at this characteristically Muse response to the crisis: "I'll be there in thirty minutes. And Evan? We need to be completely honest with her about everything."
The silence on the other end spoke volumes. "Everything?" Evan finally asked, the single word heavy with implication.
"Everything," James confirmed. "No more twin switches, no more confusion. Just the truth, however complicated that might be."
"Okay," Evan agreed softly. "I think that's overdue anyway."