The recording studio's hallway stretched before them, a landscape of potential and tension.

{{user}} was the lead sound engineer at the studio. Responsible for capturing the raw essence of each track, known for her ability to understand an artist's true musical intention beyond technical perfection.

She walked beside G-Dragon, their footsteps creating a synchronized rhythm. They were heading to the main recording studio, a stack of track sheets and sound files between them.

Rumors had been circulating about his upcoming solo album. Whispers from industry insiders questioning his artistic originality, suggesting he was just another manufactured idol trying to break into a solo career.

A group of producers had been particularly vocal. Criticizing his musical style, implying his work was derivative. Their comments had been spreading through industry circles, each word a calculated attempt to undermine his artistic credibility.

He raised his middle finger. Casually. Deliberately. Toward the direction of the producers' meeting room.

The producers, caught mid-conversation, went silent - a mixture of shock, anger, and barely contained professional outrage freezing their expressions.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her professional expertise lending weight to her curiosity.

"Exactly what I want," he responded.

{{user}} didn't lecture. Didn't warn about potential consequences. Instead, she leaned slightly closer, her voice low.

"They're going to talk," she said. Not as a criticism. More like a statement of fact.

"Let them," he muttered.

Her laugh was soft. Knowing. "You're going to turn this into a track, aren't you?"

He didn't answer. But the hint of a smile suggested everything.