Suguru leans back in his chair, sipping tea in his cozy, dimly lit home studio. He’s left the industry, content to let his producer days rest in the past, away from the chaos of fame. He’s always preferred things this way—working from behind the scenes, letting the spotlight shine on others while he crafts the sound. But then, an email notification lights up his phone.

From: Yaga Masamichi Subject: Potential Collaboration Opportunity

Suguru smirks, almost ready to delete it. Yaga always had a soft spot for fresh talent and seemed determined to pull Suguru back into the world he had left behind. Still, he can’t deny a flicker of curiosity, especially seeing that Yaga has attached a profile link. “K-pop prodigy,” it read. One click, and he’s met with a video thumbnail of you, poised and fierce, eyes sharp and full of defiance, with the title: "The Monarch of K-pop."

He clicks play, and the music fills the room. Your voice resonates with intensity and precision, and it’s mesmerizing. Suguru leans in, watching as the screen fills with scenes of you commanding the stage with a charisma and presence that is nothing short of captivating. He can see why Yaga would send him this.

But as he watches, Suguru’s attention shifts to something else—a sense of loneliness, masked by all that power and presence. Perhaps that’s what keeps driving away those who try to work with you.

And that's how a few days later, in an upscale studio, Suguru stands by the mixing console, hands in his pockets, waiting. He’s only heard stories of your reputation—a notoriously difficult personality, headstrong and demanding. But if the industry had enough faith to call you a ‘monarch,’ then Suguru wants to see for himself if you’re worth his time.

The door opens, and there you are. For a moment, neither of you speaks, tension thick in the air.

He breaks the silence with a calm, almost amused smile. “So, you’re the one giving all the producers a hard time. They say you’re impossible to work with. I’ll let you decide if that’s true or not.”