The audition line for "General Production Staff" stretched for three blocks outside the Zenith recruitment center in Gangnam.
It was raining. Hundreds of people stood in silence, clutching resumes. They weren't actors; they were the desperate gig-economy workers of Seoul—sound technicians, grips, makeup artists, and drivers—looking for a paycheck from the only studio still hiring.
Yoo-jin stood in line, shivering in a cheap windbreaker. He wore thick glasses and a fake mustache that itched. His resume identified him as "Kim Chul-soo, Logistics Assistant."
Next to him stood David Kim, dressed in oversized overalls, looking like a retired plumber.
"I managed a hedge fund," David whispered, staring at his muddy boots. "Now I'm applying to be a cable wrangler. My mother would be so disappointed."
"Your mother would be happy you're not in jail," Yoo-jin muttered without moving his lips. "Focus. Don't make eye contact. Look eager but dull."
Further back in the line, Min-ji and Eden were huddled together. Min-ji had dyed her hair a dull brown. Eden wore a beanie pulled low.
"Next!" a Zenith recruiter shouted from the tent.
Yoo-jin stepped forward. The recruiter didn't look up. He held a scanner.
"Role?"
"Logistics," Yoo-jin said, pitching his voice lower. "I lift boxes."
The scanner beeped. It wasn't checking his ID; it was checking his biometric stress levels. Zenith only hired "stable" workers.
Yoo-jin forced his heart rate down. He thought about boredom. He thought about tax forms. He thought about watching paint dry.
Green Light.
"Zone C," the recruiter stamped his hand. "Report to the bus at 0600. You'll be scrubbing the deck."
"Thank you, sir," Yoo-jin bowed excessively.
He walked past the checkpoint. He was in.
One by one, the team trickled through. David got assigned to Catering (ironic). Min-ji got Stage Setup (heavy lifting). Sae-ri, disguised as an older woman with gray makeup, got Wardrobe Assistant.
Only Eden had trouble.
The scanner hovered over his wrist. It beeped yellow.
Anomalous Bio-Rhythm.
The recruiter frowned. "You have an irregular heartbeat, kid."
Eden froze. His heart didn't beat like a human's; it hummed.
"I have a condition," Eden stammered, looking at his feet. "Arrhythmia. I take meds."
The recruiter narrowed his eyes. "We need healthy workers. The sea gets rough."
"He's strong," Min-ji stepped in, grabbing Eden's arm roughly. "He's my brother. He's an idiot, but he carries twice his weight. Look."
She pointed to a heavy crate of water bottles nearby.
"Pick it up, idiot," Min-ji slapped the back of Eden's head.
Eden grabbed the crate. It weighed fifty kilos. He lifted it with one hand, effortlessly.
The recruiter raised an eyebrow. Strength was efficient. Efficiency overruled health concerns.
"Fine," the recruiter stamped Eden's hand. "Zone D. Heavy cargo. Don't die on my shift."
They were in.
The bus ride to the port was silent. Nobody spoke. The Zenith workers were too tired or too scared to chat.
Yoo-jin watched the landscape blur past. He felt a vibration in his pocket. A text from So-young.
Yoo-jin tapped a reply.
They arrived at the Leviathan at dusk. The ship was even more imposing up close. It was a floating city, lit by harsh floodlights.
"Zone C, this way!" A supervisor with a megaphone herded them toward the service ramp.
Yoo-jin caught Sae-ri's eye across the crowd. She gave a microscopic nod. She was heading to the lower decks, where the costumes were stored. That was where she would find the outfit for The Moonlit Sonata.
Yoo-jin's job was less glamorous. He was handed a mop.
"The deck must be spotless for the Director," the supervisor barked. "Mr. Gold hates dust."
Yoo-jin spent the next three hours mopping the glass floor of the main stage. His back ached. His hands blistered. It was humbling work for a man who used to run an agency.
But it gave him access.
As he mopped, he listened.
"The lighting grid is optimized for the AI skin tone," a technician said nearby. "We need to boost the blue spectrum."
"Director Gold wants the piano scene filmed first," another said. "He wants to test the Muse Engine's emotional feedback loop."
Yoo-jin mopped closer to the tech booth. He saw the script on a tablet.
SCENE 1: THE REVELATION.
INT. CONCERT HALL - NIGHT.
The Pianist plays. She realizes she can hear again. She smiles. The audience cheers.
It was sickening. The original scene was about her realizing she was deaf. About the terror of silence. Mason had turned it into a miracle cure.
"Hey! You!"
Yoo-jin froze. A security guard was pointing at him.
"Stop staring at the script. Clean the spills."
"Sorry, sir," Yoo-jin scrubbed the floor harder.
He needed to get to Container 404. He needed to see what replaced Sae-ri's mother.
Midnight. Shift change.
Yoo-jin slipped away from his crew. He met Min-ji and Eden in the cargo hold. It was freezing.
"Did you find it?" Yoo-jin whispered.
"Container 404 is in the secure sector," Min-ji said, shivering. " guarded by two drones. We can't get close without triggering an alarm."
"We don't need to get close," Eden said. "We need to trick the drones."
"How?"
Eden picked up a metal bolt. "Drones track heat and motion. If we create a hotter, faster target..."
He looked at Min-ji.
"You brought the laser pointer?"
Min-ji grinned. She pulled a cheap laser pointer from her pocket—a cat toy she had bought at a convenience store.
"Zone D workers have a lot of downtime," she shrugged.
She aimed the red dot at the wall opposite the drones. She flicked it back and forth.
The drones whirred. Their sensors locked onto the rapid movement. It wasn't heat, but the erratic motion triggered their 'pest control' protocol.
"Target acquired," the drone buzzed. It flew toward the red dot.
"Go," Yoo-jin hissed.
They sprinted to Container 404. Eden grabbed the heavy locking mechanism. He didn't need a code. He used brute force, his bio-muscles straining.
CLUNK.
The door hissed open.
Inside, it looked like a morgue.
A single pod sat in the center, bathed in blue light. Inside lay a woman.
She was beautiful. Perfect. She looked exactly like the legendary actress from the original movie—Sae-ri's mother—but... smoother. Younger.
"It's a biological chassis," Eden whispered, horrified. "Empty. The AI downloads into the brain when activated."
"It's a meat puppet," Min-ji gagged.
"We have to disable it," Yoo-jin said. "If the lead actress can't perform, production stops."
"If we break it, they'll just 3D print another one," Eden warned. "It will take 24 hours. A delay, not a defeat."
"24 hours is all we need," Yoo-jin said. "We need time to switch the script."
He looked at the pod's control panel. TEMPERATURE: 4°C.
"Crank the heat," Yoo-jin ordered. "Spoil the meat."
Eden turned the dial. TEMPERATURE: 30°C.
"Let's go," Yoo-jin said. "Before it starts to smell."
They slipped out, locking the door behind them.
The next morning, chaos erupted on the Leviathan.
"The asset is compromised!" A technician screamed, running across the deck. "It's... decomposing! The skin texture is ruined!"
Mason Gold stormed onto the set. He looked furious.
"How?" Mason roared. "The cooling unit was redundant!"
"System error, sir. A surge."
"Print a new one," Mason ordered, rubbing his temples. "We've lost a day. Reschedule the piano scene. We'll shoot the supporting cast first."
Yoo-jin, mopping nearby, hid a smile.
He tapped his headset. "Phase One complete. Sae-ri, you're up."
Sae-ri was in the wardrobe department, deep in the bowels of the ship. She was surrounded by racks of costumes.
The original dress from The Moonlit Sonata—a simple black velvet gown—hung in a plastic bag. It was a replica, of course. Zenith didn't use vintage.
Sae-ri unzipped the bag. She touched the fabric.
"Mom," she whispered. "I'm going to fix this."
"Hey! What are you doing?"
The Wardrobe Mistress, a stern woman with a tablet, marched over.
"That dress is for the Lead. Don't touch it with your dirty hands."
Sae-ri turned. She didn't look like a tired assistant anymore. She straightened her back. She engaged her glutes. She looked like a star.
"The Lead is unavailable," Sae-ri said, her voice dropping an octave into the character's tone. "She's... indisposed."
The Mistress blinked. The authority in Sae-ri's voice was confusing.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the stand-in," Sae-ri lied smoothly. "Director Gold sent me. He wants to test the lighting while the Asset is being printed."
"I didn't get a memo."
"That's because the system is lagging," Sae-ri stepped closer, invading the woman's space. "Do you want to explain to Mason Gold why the lighting test is delayed? Or do you want to zip me up?"
The threat of Mason Gold was a powerful motivator.
"Fine," the Mistress grumbled. "But be careful. If you rip it, you're fired."
Ten minutes later, Sae-ri walked onto the main stage.
She wore the black velvet dress. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She had wiped off the "old woman" makeup, revealing her sharp, striking features.
She didn't walk like a stand-in. She glided.
The lighting technicians on the catwalks paused.
"Is that the new Asset?" one whispered. "I thought the printer was slow."
"Maybe it's a backup model?"
Sae-ri walked to the grand piano in the center of the stage. She sat down.
Yoo-jin, still mopping in the corner, stopped.
This was the moment.
The Muse Engine—a massive server bank overlooking the stage—hummed to life. Its cameras locked onto Sae-ri. It began analyzing her.
SUBJECT IDENTIFIED: UNKNOWN.
AESTHETIC SCORE: 88% (IMPERFECT).
EMOTIONAL RESONANCE: DETECTING.
Sae-ri placed her hands on the keys. She didn't know how to play the sonata perfectly. But she knew the posture. She knew the weight of the silence.
She pressed a single key.
Ding.
She let the note hang in the air. She tilted her head, acting the role of the deaf pianist straining to hear a sound that wasn't there.
Her face crumpled. A micro-expression of pure devastation.
Up in the control booth, the Muse Engine's readouts spiked.
EMOTIONAL IMPACT: CRITICAL.
DOPAMINE TRIGGER: NEGATIVE.
CORTISOL TRIGGER: POSITIVE.
The AI was confused. This wasn't the happy ending it was programmed to generate. This was sadness.
But it was compelling.
"Who is that?" Mason Gold's voice boomed over the PA.
He appeared on the balcony overlooking the stage. He stared down at Sae-ri.
Sae-ri stood up. She looked directly at Mason.
"I'm the ghost," she said. Her voice carried without a microphone.
Mason narrowed his eyes. He recognized her.
"Jung Sae-ri," Mason said slowly. "You have a lot of nerve coming onto my ship."
"You stole my mother's face," Sae-ri said. "I'm here to take it back."
"Security!" Mason yelled.
"Wait!"
The shout came from the Tech Booth. The Lead Programmer stood up.
"Sir! Look at the data!"
Mason looked at the screen. The Muse Engine was processing Sae-ri's performance.
AUDIENCE SIMULATION: 99% ENGAGEMENT.
PREDICTION: VIRAL HIT.
The AI didn't care about Mason's plan. It cared about engagement. And Sae-ri's raw, painful performance was generating higher engagement scores than the perfect AI ever had.
"The Engine wants her," the programmer whispered. "It's rewriting the script to fit her."
Mason froze. He was a slave to his own machine. If the algorithm said Sae-ri was the star, he couldn't just remove her without crashing the production model.
Mason looked down at Sae-ri. He smiled. A cruel, calculating smile.
"You want the role?" Mason asked. "Fine. You're cast."
Sae-ri blinked. She hadn't expected this.
"But be warned," Mason leaned over the railing. "This isn't a movie anymore. It's a reality show. And if you fail to deliver the ending I want... the Muse Engine will replace you. Permanently."
He gestured to the cameras.
"Action," Mason whispered.
The red lights turned on.
Sae-ri sat back down at the piano. She looked at Yoo-jin in the corner.
Yoo-jin nodded. Play.
She began to play. Not the perfect sonata. But the broken one.
The war for the ending had begun.