Chapter7: The Fire Awakens
The lights shifted, the air turning electric.
Han Lee stood tall at the center of the stage. The opening notes hit—everyone froze. It was Ming-Ji's most famous song.
Gasps spread through the room. Even the other participants began to murmur.
"Wait—that's Ming-Ji's track."
"Is he serious?!"
"Does he… really dare?"
Ming-Ji's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes locked on the stage. Jun's heart pounded painfully in his chest. William's hands curled into fists, his whole body tense.
Then the performance began.
At first, Han Lee moved with soft, deliberate grace. Calm, professional, every gesture precise—his body carried the aura not of a trainee, but of a master. Even his breathing synced seamlessly with the rhythm.
The audience whispered in awe.
But after thirty seconds, the tempo shifted. The beat dropped.
Han Lee's entire style transformed. His movements hit hard, sharp collapses exploding perfectly in time with the music. Every beat slammed through his body like lightning, every move fierce yet controlled. His choreography was flawless—smoother, sharper, and somehow deeper than anyone had ever expected.
The participants couldn't hold back their reactions.
"No way…"
"Look at that control!"
"Is he really just a contestant?!"
Even K and East exchanged impressed looks. Dream's wide eyes softened as she watched, her lips parting in awe—like she'd just fallen under his spell. Yet, meanwhile, bounced happily in his seat, clapping along, clearly impressed.
The studio was alive with excitement. Everyone was captivated.
Everyone… except three.
Ming-Ji sat frozen, his eyes never leaving Han Lee's feet, his legs, his movements—every step cutting deep. His hands trembled beneath the table.
Jun couldn't hide his worry, his jaw clenched tight, eyes darting between Ming-Ji and the boy on stage.
And then there was William.
The moment Han Lee had introduced himself earlier, William had gone pale. Now, seeing him dance—seeing him choose Ming-Ji's song—he looked utterly shaken. His body tensed more with every beat.
Wang, sitting beside him, noticed immediately.
"William, what's wrong? Why do you look like that?"
William forced his face back to blank calm. "It's… nothing," he muttered.
But his eyes told another story. His gaze stayed locked on Han Lee, sharp and troubled.
And on stage, Han Lee danced as though every move was a declaration—claiming the spotlight, daring anyone to look away.
Han Lee's performance built to its final crescendo. With one last surge of energy, he struck a unique, sharp pose — perfectly timed with the beat. The lights cut, leaving him framed in shadow and sweat, chest heaving.
For a breathless moment, the room was silent.
Then the show exploded.
Applause. Cheers. Participants shouting in disbelief.
"Crazy!"
"No way, he's on another level!"
"Look at that control!"
Even Dream rose from her chair, clapping with both hands.
But East leaned forward, his mic raised. His tone was calm, yet curious.
"…Why do I feel like I've heard your name somewhere before?"
K adjusted his glasses, narrowing his eyes. "I was thinking the same thing."
Dream, starry-eyed, leaned toward her mic. "That was incredible. Honestly, the best performance we've seen so far. How many years have you trained?"
Han Lee answered simply, "Two years."
The words hit hard. Jun and Ming-Ji exchanged a sharp glance, the air between them thick with unspoken meaning.
Dream pressed on, smiling. "And your age?"
"Twenty-four."
"Ohh, not bad at all," she said warmly.
Ming-Ji's lips tightened. He shot a jealous sideways glance at Dream… then at Lee, who hadn't looked away from him once.
Jun suddenly leaned forward. "I have some questions."
But before he could continue, Ming-Ji cut in quickly, his voice too bright, too eager.
"Ohh—l-let's just give grades first, shall we?"
Jun froze. "…What?"
"Grades," Ming-Ji repeated firmly, forcing a smile. "Let's discuss."
The judges huddled briefly, whispering among themselves. The audience buzzed with anticipation.
But East wasn't done. He raised his mic again. "Han Lee… can you sing for us?"
Lee's eyes flicked once toward Ming-Ji before he nodded. "Why not."
The music cued softly, and Lee began to sing.
Once again, he chose Ming-Ji's most famous track. His voice poured through the room—smooth, powerful, hauntingly pure. Like a blessed angel, every note seemed to float in the air, gripping everyone who listened.
By the end, even East had leaned back, arms crossed, hiding his reaction with a simple: "…Okay."
The judges whispered a little longer.
Through it all, Han Lee remained calm. Not nervous. Not impatient. Just watching Ming-Ji — eyes locked, unreadable.
Finally, the decision was made. Dream stood, her voice ringing with excitement.
"Han Lee… your grade is—A!"
The audience gasped in unison. Shock rippled through the trainees.
"No one's gotten an A before!"
"Unbelievable…"
Ming-Ji swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "Congratulations."
Lee tilted his head slightly. "Hm. Thanks."
But Dream wasn't finished. She leaned forward with a teasing grin.
"Tell me, is your bias Ming-Ji? You danced and sang both of his songs… and when we gave you your grade, you only looked at his face."
The room tensed. All eyes turned to Han Lee.
He said nothing.
Jun leaned back with a scoff, muttering under his breath, "Tch. These two… huh."
Finally, Lee's voice cut through the silence, calm and steady.
"I just want to…"
He trailed off. A small smile curved Dream's lips as she nodded, letting the mystery linger.
"Okay then," she said softly.
The round was almost over. But the storm it left behind had only just begun.
To be continued.....