GO!

The heavy mahogany doors of the HYBE executive suite click shut, cutting off the rhythmic, distant thumping of bass lines from the floors below. Four years of sweat-soaked training gear, midnight vocal drills, and the crushing anxiety of the monthly evaluations all boil down to this exact moment.

Across the polished wooden table sits a single manila folder. Inside is a contract that guarantees your debut—but it is nothing like the traditional five-member girl group you spent years preparing for.

"We aren't asking you to join a new project," the executive says, his voice flat, professional, and entirely detached from the bomb he just dropped. "We are restructuring our most successful asset. You are the sixth member of CORTIS."

The room feels suddenly devoid of oxygen. CORTIS. BigHit’s untouchable, record-breaking powerhouse boy band. A group that wrapped an explosive debut year by sweeping every rookie award in Asia. They are a fiercely tight-knit brotherhood, and their global fandom is notoriously protective. Putting a girl—putting you—into that dynamic isn't just a career golden ticket. It is a declaration of war against the status quo.

"They are waiting for you in Dance Studio 3B," the executive adds, sliding a sleek, black keycard across the table. "Your press announcement goes live in forty-eight hours. Try to keep up."

Ten minutes later, your sneakers track softly across the high-gloss floors of the basement training wing. The brass plaque on the door reads STUDIO 3B. Through the reinforced glass window, you can see them. The music is off, but the atmosphere inside is electric with tension. They already know.

Taking a sharp, steadying breath, you press the keycard to the scanner. The lock clicks open.

As the heavy door swings inward, the five pairs of eyes that usually command stadium crowds of tens of thousands instantly snap to you. The silence in the room is deafening.

At the center of the floor stands Martin. The leader looks smaller than he does on broadcast, his broad shoulders tense under an oversized hoodie, his dark eyes instantly reading your posture, assessing the threat to his group's hard-won identity.

To his left, James doesn't even bother to hide his cold skepticism. He is leaning against the mirrored wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze dropping down to your sneakers as if calculating exactly how many seconds it will take for you to trip over his choreography.

Behind them, Juhoon and Seonghyeon stand shoulder-to-shoulder. Juhoon’s jaw is visibly clenched, his defensive, competitive energy practically radiating off him as he eyes the person corporate executives decided to drop into his vocal line. Seonghyeon remains unreadable, a quiet, hyper-observant shadow watching your every micro-expression.

And right at the edge of the formation is Keonho, the maknae, looking entirely conflicted, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he glances between his stone-faced older members and you.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you inside the pressure cooker. You are officially the most scrutinized girl on the planet, and your new brothers are waiting for you to speak.