Eight figures emerged through dense fog, dressed in oversized hoodies, cargo pants, and chains that flashed beneath the spotlights. Seven wore black. Silver-blond Minjae wore metallic accents.
Another trainee stood at center, microphone at his side.
The music starts. Eight heads snapped upward.
"They gave me a name.
Gave me a role.
Told me where to stand."
The trainee lifted his eyes toward the camera.
"Funny. I don't remember asking."
The formation split, and Minjae strolled through the opening as though he had arrived late to a party he was hosting.
"Walk in late like I own the clock,
Bad reputation but I never got dropped."
His delivery was almost conversational. He rolled one shoulder, tipped his head toward the camera, and let the beat carry him.
"Camera on? Good, get my better side.
Rumors go up and my numbers still rise."
Behind him, the others punctuated the rhythm with sharp, grounded movements. Minjae barely needed to dance to command the screen.
