The MC's voice echoed again.
"And now… Section B, please take the stage."
The air grew heavier. Section B rose, their black outfits gleaming under the dim lights, confidence dripping off every step.
As they walked up, I felt my heartbeat quicken.
Section B strode onto the stage dressed in striking, dark-themed outfits. Each member wore tailored in a black military-style jackets adorned with sleek silver buckles and asymmetrical belts crossing over the chest. The material shimmered faintly under the lights—it was not leather nor cloth, but instead a custom blend that reflected a cold metallic sheen whenever they moved.
Their pants were fitted, lined with straps and utility clips that gave a combat-ready edge, while polished boots rose just below the knee. Some wore fingerless gloves, others high collars or dark harnesses wrapping around their shoulders, each design was unique yet cohesive.
A faint glint of silver jewelry—ear cuffs, chains, and rings—caught the light. Combined with dark eyeliner and slick, tousled hair, they looked less like trainees and more like idols.
Their concept was: "Fallen Angels of Aurora."
Beside me, Jiho muttered, "They really went all out."
Chanho exhaled slowly. "That's Section B for you. Always dramatic."
Daehyun's jaw tightened. "Good. Let's see if they can live up to it."
Minsoo's words echoed in my mind—People don't remember perfection; they remember hard work and effort.
The music began.
Five silhouettes appeared at the far end of the stage as the house lights sank into shadow.
Then came the sound — a deep, rolling bass that shook the floor.
For a moment, no one breathed.
Then—BOOM.
Red strobes sliced through the dark. Smoke curled up from hidden vents, wrapping around the figures as if the stage itself was burning to life.
Hanuel felt the hairs on his arms stand up. "Whoa," he whispered under his breath.
Beside him, Jiho muttered, "They're really going for the whole bad-boy apocalypse thing, huh?"
Daehyun didn't respond. His eyes were locked on the stage.
Section B – "Blackout Paradise"
The LED screens flared red, then black. A heartbeat-like rhythm thumped through the speakers.
One by one, the members of Section B stepped forward into the light:
Park Ijin – Leader, main dancer.
Ryu Sungho – Main vocal,.
Kang Yuwon – Sub-vocal.
Lee Rowon – Rapper.
Chae Damin – Center.
Then the beat dropped—low, gritty, vibrating through every rib in the hall.
Lights out, welcome to the game / One step wrong and you'll burn in the flame!
Every smile's a mask I wear / Every truth fades in the glare.
Their movements hit like thunder—perfectly in sync yet so dangerously sharp.
Ijin spun on his heel and slammed down on the beat, a ripple of movement following through the group like dominoes.
"Damn," Chanho muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "They're monsters."
Sungho's voice slid over the heavy beat:
You chase the glow, I own the night / Can you stand where shadows bite?
The red lights flickered to white, then black again. It was hypnotic—like watching lightning strike over and over.
Hanuel swallowed hard. His hands clenched unconsciously on his knees.
He couldn't help it—they were good.
The chorus hit with explosive force:
Blackout paradise, no escape tonight / Lost in the dark but it feels so right!
Temptation calls, can you pay the price? / Drown in my world—Blackout Paradise!
Flames rippled across the LED panels. The stage floor glowed as if they were in a floodlights pulsed beneath their feet.
The audience gasped collectively at the effect.
Even Producer Kim, who rarely reacted to anything, leaned forward in interest.
Rowon took center for his rap. His voice came low and steady:
Checkmate — every step's my stage / No love, just fame in a gilded cage.
I see your fear, taste your thrill / Paradise burns when you chase your will.
When he finished, the silence that followed felt electric.
Then Damin stepped forward. His smirk was small but deadly.
He tilted his head toward the judges and mouthed something the microphones didn't catch—but it felt like he was saying: Watch us.
The bridge built like a rising storm.
Sungho lifted his mic, his voice raw and it was as if he was pleading against the darkness:
Save me now or let me fall / I'm addicted to it all!
The lights burst white. The smoke swirled like clouds exploding.
Then, with one synchronized breath, all five leapt into the final chorus.
Blackout paradise, I rule the light! / I'll burn my wings but still I'll fight!
Fall into me — this deadly vice / Welcome home to Blackout Paradise!
They dropped into a final pose—knees bent, heads low, palms open toward the audience, red smoke curling around them like living fire.
For two whole seconds, no one moved.
Then applause hit—deafening, uncontrollable.
The hall erupted. Trainers clapped. Stylists whistled. Even a few of the staff who usually hid behind neutral faces exchanged impressed glances.
"Wow," MC Yoon Shin-hyuk said, almost laughing into the mic. "That… was intense. I think my heartbeat needs a moment."
A polite ripple of laughter followed.
"Let's hear from our judges," he continued.
Park Ji-beom (Choreographer) leaned forward first.
"Section B… what can I say? That level of synchronization—military precision. Every count was hit cleanly, every transition smooth. Ijin, you led like a professional. I saw no hesitation."
Ijin bowed slightly, still catching his breath.
Kim Do-hyun (Producer) tapped his pen against the desk. "Your rap was tight. Vocals solid. The drop into the chorus was textbook execution. You've got stage awareness—something many trainees lack. But—" he raised a finger, "—I didn't feel your sincerity. Don't let the performance swallow the emotion."
The boys nodded, faces serious.
Lee Hana (CEO) smiled faintly, crossing her legs. "You understand branding. From outfit to lighting to the expressions—it all said Section B. That's rare. But confidence can tip into arrogance quickly. Keep your pride, but remember humility. It keeps you grounded."
The audience clapped again—short, polite, decisive.
Back in the waiting area, Section D sat frozen.
No one spoke at first.
Then Hyun exhaled, long and low. "They didn't perform," he said quietly. "They conquered the stage and left no crumbs."
Eunjae groaned. "Bro, did you see that fire effect? We don't even have props."
Chanho crossed his arms. "Props don't win evaluations. Execution does."
"Yeah, but that was execution," Daehyun muttered. "Like, scary-level execution."
Jiho cracked his neck, his expression was unreadable. "They think they own the stage. Let's remind them they don't."
His tone wasn't angry—but rather determined to defeat them. It was like he had found a prey.
Seojun looked down at his hands, then nodded slowly. "They were good. I won't lie. But they don't have what we do."
Hanuel looked up. "And what's that?"
Seojun met his eyes. "Hunger."
As Section B walked off the stage, sweat gleaming on their arms and satisfaction glowing in their smirks, Hanuel couldn't help but study them closely.
They moved like victors already—bumping fists, exchanging quiet chuckles.
One of them—Damin—glanced toward Section D's seats and smirked again. His smirk was easy arrogance of someone certain of their place.
"Guess we're next," Jiho said, trying to keep his voice light but failing to hide the tremor.
"Yeah," Chanho replied. "Time to make them regret smiling."
Hanuel felt his pulse pound in his throat.
He thought of Minsoo's words from the night before—the warmth, the quiet faith in his voice.
"You're not there to survive. You're there to show something.
People don't remember perfection—they remember heart."
His fingers curled tighter.
Yeah… heart. That's what they'd bring.
Down in front, the MC raised his mic again.
"Thank you, Section B, for that powerful performance! Now, we move on to our final team of the day. They've been called the underdogs of Aurora Entertainment, but they've shown tremendous growth in the past month."
A spotlight swept toward the right side of the hall—where Section D sat.
"Everyone, please welcome—Section D!"
The shout that followed was thunderous.
Daehyun stood first, his expression stone-cold.
Seojun rose next, cracking his knuckles with a sharp exhale.
Jiho adjusted his earpiece. Chanho rolled his shoulders. Eunjae muttered a prayer under his breath and Hyun tried controlling his heart.
Hanuel stood last, feeling every nerve in his body ignite.
As they filed toward the stage entrance, he caught one last glimpse of Section B.
Ijin met his eyes— just for a second—and gave a faint nod, half-respectful, half-taunting.
Hanuel smiled back. "Watch closely," he murmured. "We're not the same people you used to mock."
They stepped into the darkness behind the curtains.