"If I could ask everyone to direct their attention to the screen, please."
Hyouka gestured toward the massive display at the front of the room.
The screen lit up.
And there he was.
Kang Seo-yul.
His face—immaculate, smug, perfectly curated—loomed large and punchable, like it had been designed to piss people off.
A collective shift rippled through the room.
"Kang Seo-yul," Hyouka began, voice clipped and professional, though her expression said I would absolutely throw hands. "Long speculated—and now confirmed through Bread Music's in-depth investigation—to be a chaebol."
She paused.
"In Western terms? A nepo baby."
Murmurs erupted instantly.
"He is the youngest son of the chairman of one of Korea's most powerful economic giants," Hyouka continued. "Hwarang Motors."
The air went thick.
For Kang Ian, Silas, Ahn Jae, and August, the name landed like a punch to the gut.
Their faces darkened in unison—brows drawn tight, jaws clenched. Emotions churned violently behind their eyes: anger, disbelief, humiliation, and something far uglier that didn't even have a proper name.
"Now," Hyouka went on, tapping the clicker, "Kang Seo-yul has a… documented history of questionable behavior, even at a very young age."
Another slide appeared.
"But the most significant—and frankly, the most disgusting—thing he's done?"
She looked up at them.
"He created The Genesis Project."
Silas' chair scraped loudly against the floor as he leaned forward. "What?" he demanded, teeth grinding. "What do you mean he created it?"
"Exactly what it sounds like." Hyouka's mouth twisted in clear disgust. "Kang Seo-yul created The Genesis Project because he wanted to debut as an idol."
A beat.
"…Because he was bored."
Silence.
Then—
"You're fucking kidding me," Nikola breathed.
"Nope," Hyouka said flatly. "Dead serious. He was bored, so he funded a survival show, manufactured drama, and staged his own grand debut."
She clicked again.
"The entire program existed to serve him."
"That's some next-level fucked up shit," Nikola muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Lili's eyes widened slowly as realization clicked into place. "So if he created Genesis Project…" she said carefully, dread creeping into her voice, "zhen zhat means everything—zhe editing, zhe rankings, zhe eliminations—"
"—was decided from zhe very beginning," she finished.
Hyouka nodded, her expression grim.
"Unfortunately, yes."
The room felt colder.
"Genesis Project was an elaborate farce," Hyouka continued. "A carefully constructed pipeline designed to debut Kang Seo-yul as an idol. Many entertainment companies tied to Hwarang Motors were already looped in."
Another pause.
"The trainees meant to debut alongside him?" she added quietly. "They were preselected."
That was it.
Kang Ian laughed—but there was no humor in it. Just rage sharp enough to cut.
"So let me guess," he said, voice tight and shaking. "None of us were ever on that list."
He looked around at August, Silas, Ahn Jae.
"We were just there to fill space. Props. Fucking extras in his vanity project."
No one corrected him.
Because he was right.
****
"Everything," Hyouka said, steady but grim, "revolved around what Kang Seo-yul wanted."
She clicked to the next slide.
"Once upon a time, Kang Ian—you were supposed to debut."
Kang Ian's head snapped up.
"Kang Seo-yul took a liking to you," Hyouka continued. "And your former company, Big Hype, had a… mutually beneficial relationship with Hwarang Motors."
Kang Ian scoffed, anger curling in his chest.
"Why does that somehow make me even more pissed?" he muttered. "Good thing I didn't debut. I couldn't stand that pompous bastard."
Hyouka nodded. "You were removed from the list because you did something that seriously pissed him off."
"Oh, here we go," Kang Ian said flatly. "What'd I do? Breathe wrong?"
"Any guesses?" Hyouka asked.
"Hell if I know," Kang Ian snapped. "That fucker's got mood swings worse than a girl on her period. No offense."
"No offense taken," Hyouka replied smoothly. Then—
"You defended August."
The room stilled.
"Huh?!" August blurted, eyes wide.
Kang Ian frowned, memory clicking into place. "Oh—that." He shrugged bitterly. "They were cornering him, calling it 'just jokes.' Augie was clearly uncomfortable, so I stepped in. Anyone would've."
Hyouka's gaze softened—but only for a moment.
"It wouldn't have mattered if it were anyone else. But because it was August, that crossed a line."
"Why…?" August asked quietly, voice small and confused. "I—I thought the hyungs liked me."
That sentence hurt more than anything else said that day.
Hyouka inhaled slowly. "August… I'm sorry."
She met his eyes.
"Kang Seo-yul never liked you. Not even a little. His group only followed his lead."
August shook his head, denial fragile and desperate.
"But… he was nice to me. He treated me well. I really thought—"
"He hated you from the beginning," Hyouka said gently—but without sugarcoating it. "You were better than him. In skill. In presence. In heart."
She swallowed.
"And you didn't even come from money."
That landed like a slap.
"He couldn't stand the idea of someone poor outshining him," Hyouka continued. "So he built a narrative."
The screen changed again.
"August would rank high. Always first. Always praised. He wanted to raise your hopes."
A pause.
"So that when the finale came… the fall would destroy you."
The room felt like it lost oxygen.
"I don't know how else to say this," Hyouka said, voice tight. "But you getting sick during the finale wasn't an accident."
August's breath hitched.
"It was planned," she continued. "The intention was to make you faint. To scare you. To force a dramatic withdrawal."
Her jaw clenched.
"But it went too far. You developed pneumonia."
Silence.
"And instead of remorse," Hyouka finished quietly,
"Kang Seo-yul was thrilled."
Silas slammed his palm onto the table.
"Hold the fuck up," he snarled. "So you're telling me that bastard is the reason August got sick?"
Hyouka nodded once.
Yes.
He did that.
****
"August," Kang Ian asked, fury blazing so openly in his eyes that August physically recoiled, "what did they make you do?"
"It's okay, Augie," Ahn Jae said quickly, sliding closer and gently rubbing his back. "You're safe. You can tell us."
"I—I just wanted to work hard and debut," August whispered, tears spilling over. "Kang Seo-yul hyung—"
"He is not your hyung," Silas snapped, voice sharp and shaking. "That fucker will never be your hyung."
August flinched again.
"That's enough," Foca said firmly, his voice cutting clean through the tension. One look from him was enough to make Silas and Kang Ian rein themselves in, fists clenched but silent.
Foca softened as he turned back to August.
"You don't have to continue if this is too much."
"N-no… it's okay," August said, forcing a shaky breath. His fingers trembled as he raised his hand, pointing at Kang Seo-yul's face on the screen.
"He told me… that if I wanted to debut, I had to listen to him. He treated me really well, so I thought… I thought he was my friend."
His voice cracked.
"So I did what he said."
The room stayed deathly quiet.
"He told me to always drink cold water," August continued, tears dropping onto his lap. "Said it was his secret for a good voice. He told me to only sleep three hours a day, because if I slept more, I'd be letting my teammates down."
Ahn Jae's jaw tightened.
"He said if I was really his friend, I'd buy snacks for him and his friends," August whispered. "With the allowance my parents sent me."
That one hurt. It hurt bad.
"When I started feeling sick," August sobbed, "he told me not to tell the production team. He said I'd be bothering them… that they'd get angry… that it would lower my screen time."
His breathing broke completely now.
"So when the finale came… I lied. Even when I couldn't breathe properly. He said he'd be disappointed in me if I didn't listen."
The room felt like it was suffocating with him.
August cried openly now—small, broken sounds that twisted something ugly and furious in everyone's chest.
August had grown up in a quiet rural town. Seoul had been overwhelming—bright, fast, ruthless. His innocence made him stand out. Made him easy.
And Kang Seo-yul had seen that.
He hadn't just manipulated August—he'd trained him to obey.
"Is that why you cried," Ahn Jae asked softly, "when you saw E:Den win Rookie of the Year?"
"No—no," August hiccupped, wiping at his face. "When I saw them win… I felt really angry. And I didn't know why. When I get angry… I cry."
Ahn Jae pulled him into a hug without hesitation.
"It's okay, Augie," he murmured. "We're here. Always."
"T-thank you… hyung," August whispered, leaning fully into the embrace.
No one spoke.
But everyone in that room—every artist, every executive—felt it.
That instinct.
That rage.
That overwhelming need to protect the youngest who had been chewed up by a monster wearing a smile.
And somewhere, very far away…
Kang Seo-yul's days of getting away with it were numbered.