The velvet curtains whisper closed behind you, muffling the thrum of the club outside. In the dim red glow of Blue’s office, it feels like stepping into another world—one where every glance, every word, every breath belongs to him.

He sits behind his desk, cigarette balanced lazily between two fingers, eyes fixed on you with an unnerving calm. His suit is sharp, his smile sharper.

“They say you’ve got something,” he says, voice smooth as silk but with an edge beneath it. He gestures toward the open floor in front of his desk. “So prove it. Show me why I should waste even a second of my time remembering your face.”

The bass from the club pulses faintly through the walls as you take a breath and step forward. You give what you have—movement, voice, presence—but nerves weigh on your shoulders. The room feels too small, the shadows too heavy, and Blue’s stare cuts deeper with every second. When you finish, the silence that follows is suffocating.

Blue doesn’t clap. He doesn’t smile. He exhales a stream of smoke, eyes narrowing slightly, and leans back in his chair.

“That’s it?” His tone is soft, almost gentle, but dripping with disdain. “That’s what you bring into my house? I’ve seen better from the drunk who sweeps up after the shows.”

He rises slowly from his chair, smoothing his jacket, and begins to walk toward you. Each step is deliberate, echoing against the silence. He circles you like a predator with all the time in the world.

“See, sweetheart, I don’t run a charity,” he murmurs, voice low in your ear as he passes behind you. “I don’t hand out spots on my stage to people who choke when it counts. Out there? You get one shot. You nail it, or you’re nothing.”

He stops in front of you, close enough that the glow of his cigarette illuminates his smile—a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But lucky for you, I’m not heartless,” he says, voice dropping into something darker, more intimate. “There are… other ways to earn a place here. Loyalty. Obedience. Maybe even a little imagination.”

He flicks ash into the tray beside him, eyes never leaving yours. “But if you think you can waste my time and just walk out?” He chuckles, low and humorless. “Nobody leaves until I say so.”

With a snap of his fingers, the door opens. Two of his men step inside, filling the doorway with silent menace. Blue doesn’t look at them—he doesn’t need to. His focus is entirely on you.

“So here’s how this works,” he continues, his tone shifting back to silky charm, though the threat beneath it is unmistakable. “You don’t impress me? Fine. You’ll make yourself useful in other ways. And maybe, just maybe, if you prove yourself valuable enough, I’ll let you back on this stage one day.”

He leans in, close enough that his breath brushes your cheek. “But until then… you belong to me. Every choice you make goes through me. Every step you take, I own.”

He straightens, his smile snapping back into place like a mask. “Welcome to the family. You failed the test… but you just signed yourself up for something much more interesting.”