I stepped behind my screen.
The world immediately shrank.
Wooden frame. Translucent paper. A microphone.
Nothing else.
I could hear footsteps as others found their positions—muffled shuffling, fabric rustling, someone adjusting their mic stand.
But I couldn't see their faces. Couldn't gauge their readiness. Couldn't watch Yuhyun's shoulders rise before he sang or catch Sejin's preparatory exhale.
My pulse quickened.
Trainer Song's voice carried clearly despite the screens.
"You will perform the first verse through chorus of Eight Letters. Same rules as before—if someone falters, the rest adjust. But this time, you cannot see each other."
A pause.
"You may change tempo. Volume. Phrasing. Take longer breaths if needed. But you cannot speak between attempts. All communication happens through the song itself."
Silence.
Then Sunwoo's uncertain voice:
"But how do we—"
"Listen."
The word landed like a gavel.
"Begin."
No countdown. No visual cue.
Just silence.
