Chapter 2 – Audition Room 26
*Chapter 2 – Audition Room 26
The building was old—narrow halls, tired lights, creaking floors. A place most would overlook. But it was here that names were made, or broken.
He walked through the hallway like a shadow that drew all eyes. Even in silence, the air shifted around him.
People stared.
Some gasped softly.
A few backed away.
He didn't notice—or didn't care.
Black hoodie. Hood up. Head down.
But even like that, his presence was suffocating.
---
**Room 27.**
He turned the knob and entered without knocking.
Three judges looked up lazily, prepared to dismiss another nobody.
Then they saw him.
And the room fell still.
---
He pulled back his hood.
And for a moment, no one breathed.
His face—it wasn't real. It couldn't be.
More flawless than any idol, more godlike than any actor. Snow-white skin, sculpted features, deep hazel eyes that seemed to hold centuries of silence. Tall. Ethereal. Alive, but not quite human.
The judges stared.
Not because of fame.
Not because of reputation.
Just because he *was*.
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> "Name?" one of them asked, voice dry.
He ignored the question. Walked to the center.
> "What do you do?" another tried, quieter.
> "Sing. Dance."
That was all he said.
---
He plugged in his phone.
A custom track played—slow at first. Then building, layered, complex.
He stood still for three seconds.
And then he moved.
---
Not just a performance.
An **explosion of precision and grace**.
Every motion was clean, perfect, sharper than steel yet fluid as wind. His body flowed with the music like it had been born from it. Every beat hit flawlessly. Every pause meant something.
He didn't perform like someone trained.
He performed like someone who *created* training.
The judges couldn't speak. Couldn't blink.
Then he sang.
And it wasn't just good.
It was better than any they'd heard.
Powerful, emotional, controlled. A voice that could fill a stadium or silence a room. Like velvet and fire all at once.
He hit every note. Even the impossible ones.
When the song ended, he didn't pose. Didn't look proud.
He simply pulled his hood back on.
As if it hadn't mattered.
---
The judges sat there, stunned.
> "Who… trained you?" the vocal coach whispered.
He didn't answer.
> "Are you already under contract?"
Still silence.
> "You're…" One of them just shook their head. "You're not from here, are you?"
He turned to leave.
> "Wait—what's your name?"
He stopped at the door.
> "Whatever you want it to be."
And he walked out.
---
The scout from the street leaned against the wall just outside, a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.
> "I knew it," he said softly.
> "You're not just special. You're terrifying."
The boy didn't answer.
> "You'll debut faster than anyone in history."
No reply.
> "You planning to be famous?"
"No."
> "Then why are you doing this?"
He didn't even look at him.
Just said, **"Because I can."**
---
That night, the city lit up beneath him as he sat on the rooftop, legs crossed, hood up, expression unreadable.
His phone buzzed.
**Unknown Number:**
> You're accepted. Training starts tomorrow. You already broke their system.
He didn't reply.
He already knew.
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