Chapter 8 – A Shadow Without a Name
## **Chapter 8 – A Shadow Without a Name**
For the first time in a long time, **Joon-seok** couldn't sleep.
He had seen talent before.
But never like *that*.
It wasn't just beauty. Or the way the boy danced like gravity itself bent around him.
It was the silence. The distance. The fact that he didn't ask for anything.
> *"He didn't want the stage. He didn't want attention. He just... existed."*
That made it worse.
Because Joon-seok *wanted* him for the stage.
---
He started searching.
Old academy lists.
Trainee records.
Social media scans.
But everywhere he looked—**nothing**.
No name. No birthday. No backstory.
Just blurry photos from public classes, grainy clips from surveillance cams.
Some called him a ghost.
Others thought he was a myth.
---
At the same time, in a rooftop studio lit only by cold white lights, the boy trained alone.
He stood before the mirror—not to admire himself, but to study each movement with mechanical precision.
Every turn, every breath, timed to perfection.
He played no music.
He didn't need it.
The rhythm lived inside him.
He danced not for approval.
Not for attention.
Only for mastery.
---
Outside, behind a vending machine on the adjacent rooftop, **Joon-seok crouched like a criminal**, camera in hand.
> *"How can someone this good not be in the system?"*
He zoomed in as the boy moved, the camera shaking slightly.
> "Unreal…"
But when the boy stopped—he turned suddenly.
He looked straight into the lens.
No hesitation.
No confusion.
Just cold, golden eyes that said: *"I see you."*
Joon-seok ducked.
His heart pounded.
> *"Did he… sense me?"*
---
The next day, the boy was gone.
No one knew where he trained. No studio claimed him. No student registered him.
Just a rumor.
A ghost.
---
But late at night, a new whisper rose in one of Seoul's underground dance forums.
A user uploaded a 12-second video.
It had no title.
No credits.
Just a clip of a boy dancing in silence.
His face was clear. Ethereal.
More beautiful than anything real.
Within hours, the thread was flooded.
> "Who is he?"
> "I swear this isn't AI?"
> "Tell me this is real. Please."
> "Even top idols don't move like this."
> "Bro, even his **existence** feels unreal."
But there were no answers.
And the uploader never responded.
---
Back in his apartment, the boy scrolled through the thread without expression.
He put his phone down.
Pulled his hood lower.
And kept studying in silence.
---
**End of Chapter 8.**
---