The digital clock on the wall of the Starline Entertainment waiting room flickered to 11:59 AM. In sixty seconds, the "Trainee" label that had defined their lives for years—the sweat-stained floors of the basement practice rooms, the harsh monthly evaluations, and the constant fear of being cut—would be incinerated. It was being replaced by five letters that were already vibrating across global servers: STEL-R.
Kang Joon sat in the center of the plush leather sofa, a stark contrast to the hard wooden benches he was used to. His fingers tapped a frantic, rhythmic beat against his thighs. He wasn't wearing the tactical vests, the heavy combat boots, or the grime of the "HOT!" evaluation anymore. Instead, he was the image of summer perfection. He wore distressed denim shorts that showed off the athletic build of a dancer, a lightweight white silk shirt unbuttoned halfway to catch the air, and a custom silver whistle hanging from his neck.
