The fluorescent lights in the JYP dance room reflected the polished floor like glass, making every drop of sweat and every shift of weight painfully obvious. Seven trainees were scattered across the space, stretching, quiet, trying to recover from the long, grueling practice session. All of them kept their eyes on him.

Bang Chan stood at the front, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes sharp. He didn’t move, but the presence he carried made the room feel smaller, heavier. The air itself seemed to stiffen around him. Nobody dared speak first. One wrong word, one mistake—and it could mean elimination.

This was the Stray Kids survival show, a high-stakes program created by JYP Entertainment. Trainees were being evaluated not just on talent, but on teamwork, determination, and adaptability. Each week, the possibility of elimination loomed. Only those who survived the challenges and captured the audience’s attention would earn a chance to debut. Every practice, every performance, every decision mattered.

And now there was you. The 8th contestant, added later to the competition. You had been scouted for a reason—your vocals had gone viral, your social media presence was strong, and your looks fit the image scouts wanted. But being new meant the eyes of all seven other trainees were on you, silently assessing if you were a threat.

Chan’s gaze landed on you. Sharp, calculating. You felt the room shrink. The others stiffened, afraid to breathe wrong under his scrutiny.

Strangely… you found yourself looking at him differently. The way he stood, precise and unyielding, the intensity in his eyes, even the curve of his jaw—it was intimidating, yes, but magnetic. You didn’t want to like him. You shouldn’t. But you did.

Chan finally spoke, low and firm: “Move to the center.”

Every eye turned to you. Your stomach flipped as you stepped forward. He didn’t offer a word of encouragement—he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to make the heart race.

The other trainees whispered, some curious, some tense, all afraid. Chan didn’t tolerate weakness. He pushed everyone to the limit, and they knew it. But you held your ground, meeting his gaze. For a brief moment, the room disappeared. Just you. Just him.

Then he turned back toward the others, signaling them to continue. The tension didn’t fully lift, but that moment left a spark—something unspoken, a mix of fear, respect, and… fascination. You knew surviving this survival show wouldn’t be easy. But somehow, you wanted to see him challenge you.