“He didn’t just try to ruin my future. He stole my past.” Hana’s gaze, once clouded by confusion, now held the depth of ancient ice. The polished wooden table of the N-Vis Entertainment board room felt small, insignificant, beneath her newly rediscovered history. Gyeol Yoon, seated at the head, chuckled with a sound like dry leaves rustling. Around him, the other trustees, a dozen stern faces, watched the unfolding drama with varying degrees of alarm and impatience. “A dramatic declaration, Miss Seo. But perhaps we can return to the matter at hand,” Yoon began, his voice dripping with faux concern, “the plummeting stock prices, the accusations of fraud, the — shall we say — *unconventional* management style that has brought N-Vis to the brink of collapse.” He gestured dismissively at the large projection screen behind him, which displayed grim financial charts. “Your lack of experience, your ambiguous identity… it’s all become rather tiresome. The vote of no confidence is poised to pass. I merely wish to conclude this charade and restore order.” Hana didn't flinch. She placed the wolf-shaped medallion on the table, its pale metal catching the harsh overhead lights. Ji-han stood beside her, his posture rigid, eyes fixed on Yoon. Doji, tucked into a carry bag at Hana’s feet, let out a soft, warning growl. EON's trio—Do-yoon, Min-ki, and Sun-woo—were seated in the back, a united front of defiant youth against the corporate vultures. “Order?” Hana’s voice cut through the room, clear and unwavering. “You speak of order, Yoon, when you’ve orchestrated decades of chaos.” She looked directly at Cheon Jin-seok, who sat stiffly a few seats down from Yoon, his face pale. “Starting with the theft of intellectual property, leading to the deliberate sabotage of this company, and culminating in the planned erasure of EON’s entire discography.” Cheon flinched, his eyes darting to Yoon, who remained impassive. “Preposterous fabrications!” Yoon scoffed. “Desperate attempts to deflect from your own failings.” “Are they?” Hana’s lips curved into a thin, dangerous smile. “Or is it simply the truth you’ve tried so hard to bury?” She turned to Ji-han. “Ji-han, if you would.” Ji-han stepped forward, his presence commanding. He held up a hand-sized, faded photograph – the image of a beaming little girl, clutching a Samoyed puppy, wearing the identical locket now resting on the table. “This is Seo-yeon. The founder's true granddaughter. The rightful heiress.” His gaze swept across the room. “I was assigned to her protection. Years ago. The day she vanished from the family estate. She was taken.” Gasps rippled through the room. Yoon’s face, for the first time, showed a flicker of discomfort. “This is ancient history! A tragic accident. Nothing to do with this… charlatan.” “Not an accident,” Hana corrected, her voice sharp. “A kidnapping. Orchestrated by you.” She picked up the pendant, holding it up for all to see. “This piece contains a photograph of a young Ji-han. He gave it to me just before… before everything.” She looked at the board, her eyes scanning each face. “My name is Seo Hana now, but I was born Seo-yeon. I am the true heir. And you have spent decades trying to ensure I would never return.” A murmur grew louder among the board. Yoon slammed his hand on the table. “Enough of this sentimental nonsense! We are a corporation, not a kindergarten. Where is your proof? Where is your evidence?” “Oh, we have evidence,” Sun-woo declared from the back, a mischievous glint in his eye, though his expression remained serious. Do-yoon, beside him, nodded. “Extensive evidence, actually.” The financial charts on the main screen abruptly flickered and disappeared, replaced by the N-Vis Entertainment logo. Then, with a soft click, it shifted to grainy security footage. It depicted the opulent entrance of the old N-Vis family estate, bathed in the twilight of a distant past. A dark sedan pulled up. A figure emerged – unmistakably Chairman Gyeol Yoon, younger, but with that same arrogant smirk. He was seen conversing animatedly with a shadowy individual, then pointing towards the estate’s main gates. The footage advanced, showing the subsequent chaotic events: a struggle, a small, terrified figure being bundled into the car, a flash of red light from what appeared to be an explosion, and then the sedan speeding away. The timestamp at the bottom corner matched the date of Seo-yeon’s disappearance. Panic began to spread across the seated executives. Yoon rose to his feet, mouth twitching. “This is a deepfake! A vile fabrication!” “Decrypted from your own archives,” Hana stated calmly, her eyes never leaving his face. “The same system you used to create the false allegations against me.” “Impossible!” Yoon roared, his composure shattering. “No one could have accessed –” Before he could finish, Min-ki walked to the grand piano in the corner of the room, a relic from the founder's era. He sat down, his gaze fixed on Hana. His hands, usually so hesitant to perform for others, moved with fluid confidence across the keys. The first notes were soft, ethereal, a haunting echo of the lullaby Hana had hummed to Doji. But then, it swelled, growing in power, intricate harmonies building, layers of triumph and resilience intertwining. It was a symphony, born from a whispered memory, now echoing through the silent boardroom. The music filled the room, showcasing Min-ki’s craft and providing a sharp counterpoint to the unraveling drama. As the song reached its peak, the footage on the screen zoomed in, not on Yoon, but on Cheon Jin-seok, captured in a brief exchange with Yoon, a furtive glance and a nod on the day of the kidnapping. Cheon gasped, pushing back from the table, knocking his chair over. He stammered, “I… I was merely… following directions…” “To destroy N-Vis? To harm EON?” Do-yoon’s voice, usually so smooth and charismatic, turned raw with fury. “To erase everything the founder built?” Before anyone could react, the doors burst open, and a squadron of grim-faced officers from the National Cyber Crimes Unit, alerted by Ji-han, flooded the room. Their commander, a woman with sharp, observant eyes, walked directly to Chairman Gyeol Yoon. “Gyeol Yoon, you are under arrest for corporate espionage, conspiracy to commit fraud, and kidnapping,” she stated, her voice devoid of emotion. As Yoon was led away, protesting vehemently, she turned to Cheon. “Cheon Jin-seok, you are also being taken in for questioning regarding your involvement in these crimes.” The room erupted in a cacophony of whispers and gasps. The remaining directors watched in shock as the architect of their company’s misery and his accomplice were escorted out. N-Vis Entertainment was saved. Hours later, the N-Vis Tower penthouse balcony offered a breathtaking view of the Seoul skyline, now twinkling with the vibrant lights of the city. A gentle breeze stirred Hana’s hair as she stood with Do-yoon, Min-ki, and Sun-woo. The tension had evaporated, replaced by a quiet, profound relief. Doji slept soundly at her feet. “So,” Sun-woo said, breaking the comfortable silence, “the Puppy Producer is actually… the original heiress. Mind. Blown.” He grinned, but there was a deep respect in his eyes. Do-yoon placed a hand on her shoulder, a soft, affectionate gesture. “Seo-yeon or Seo Hana, you saved us. You saved N-Vis.” His gaze was warm, filled with an admiration that transcended their earlier ambitions. “You always were our inspiration.” Min-ki, ever laconic, simply offered a small, genuine smile. “The melody… it’s yours now. Forever.” His eyes expressed quiet gratitude. Hana smiled back, a genuine, unburdened smile. She looked at each of them, these boys who had become her unexpected family, her protectors, her strength. The longing for a quiet apartment was long gone. This chaotic, vibrant life, with them, was where she belonged. They had found their song, and in doing so, she had found her own. Then, Ji-han approached, his footsteps soft on the polished tiles. He didn’t say anything, simply offered his hand. His eyes, usually so guarded, held a tenderness that made her heart ache in the most exquisite way. A clear question hung between them. Hana looked at his outstretched hand, then back at the city lights, and a sense of absolute certainty settled within her. She took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his, a perfect fit. The warmth that spread through her was more comforting than any isolated apartment, more fulfilling than any prize. She leaned her head against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “I think my favorite lullaby is the sound of you just being here.”

Idol's First Anthem