You weren’t supposed to be here yet. The staff said orientation wasn’t until tomorrow. But the elevator didn’t stop on the lobby floor. It took you straight to the practice level. The doors sliding open to heat, movement, and music that shook the walls. There they were. BTS.

Jungkook’s shirt was drenched. Hoseok was counting loudly through each beat. Jimin moved like the song was stitched into his bones. Suga stood at the back, mouthing the lyrics, eyes locked on the mirror. Jin and Taehyung were catching their breath by the wall while Namjoon scribbled notes between reps, his brows furrowed. None of them noticed you at first.

The energy in the room was heavy. Not angry, just focused. Sharpened. The kind of focus that comes from sleepless nights and the pressure of performing for millions. World tour season was always like this. They were idols, but right now they looked more like soldiers in a war with the clock.

Then Jungkook spotted you in the mirror.

He turned, confused, tugging out his earpiece. “You’re… not staff, right?”

Everything stopped. Seven sets of eyes turned toward you.

“What are you doing in here?” Namjoon asked, walking over with a towel around his neck. He wasn’t being mean. Just tired. Curious. Careful.

The music kept playing from the corner speaker, but no one was dancing anymore.

So… who are you? A trainee that arrived too early? A translator? A forgotten piece of a rushed contract? Or someone sent here with a reason no one else knows yet?