Originally, he wasn’t even supposed to be there.

Ji Yong had plans. Itaewon. Drinks with the guys. Celebrate Taeyang’s baby turning one — just them, lowkey, the way they used to be before life got complicated.

But at 8:12 a.m., Hyun-suk called.

“I need you to come,” he said, no small talk. “Final audition round. Girls for the 2023 lineup.”

Ji Yong groaned into his pillow. “I’m not a trainer, hyung.”

“I don’t need a trainer,” Hyun-suk said. “I need someone who sees beyond polish. You have that eye.”

Ji Yong almost hung up. But something in the old man’s voice held weight. Like he knew something was going to happen today.

So Ji Yong showed up.

All black, hoodie over his head, sunglasses still on indoors. Teddy was already there, sipping burnt coffee like it owed him money.

“Morning, superstar,” Teddy muttered as Ji Yong sat down.

Ji Yong just nodded, arms crossed. “Let’s get this over with.”

The first few girls were fine. Sweet. Trained. Predictable. Nothing Ji Yong hadn’t seen since he was sixteen and wearing eyeliner on national TV.

Then she walked in.

Silent. Not blank, not shy. Just… contained. Like she hadn’t come to impress — she’d come to prove something.

No smile. No forced bubbly energy.

She nodded once, eyes sharp, and waited.

The music started — one of Teddy’s weird instrumentals that most girls stumbled over.

She didn’t.

She hit the beat like she’d been waiting her whole life to punch something.

Her dancing was aggressive without being messy. Each movement landed. Her flow was raw, voice low, cadence tight. Like she wasn’t performing — she was delivering a warning.

Halfway through, Ji Yong leaned forward, elbows on the table.

Teddy glanced at him. “You seeing this?”

“Mm.”

“She’s green,” Hyun-suk said, eyes narrowed. “But she’s got teeth.”

“She’s got intent,” Ji Yong muttered.

They watched in silence as she finished, gave one clean bow, and walked straight out.

She didn’t look back.

No one spoke until the door clicked shut.

Then Teddy exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, that’s it. Pack it up. We found her.”

“She doesn’t even know how good she is yet,” Hyun-suk said.

Ji Yong didn’t answer right away. His gaze was still fixed on the door, jaw slightly clenched. Then he spoke, voice low:

“I want her.”

Teddy blinked. “You what?”

“I want to mentor her. Personally.”

Hyun-suk raised a brow. “Since when do you mentor anyone?”

Ji Yong shrugged. “Since five minutes ago.”

“You serious?” Teddy asked.

“She’s gonna get eaten alive in the system if someone doesn’t teach her how to use what she’s got,” Ji Yong said. “She’s not made for cookie-cutter idol training.”

“And you think you are the solution?” Hyun-suk asked, almost amused.

“I think I know exactly what that kind of fire looks like at that age,” Ji Yong said. “She reminds me of me—before the chains.”

That shut them both up.

Teddy looked at him for a long second. Then nodded slowly. “You mentoring someone. This I gotta see.”

Hyun-suk chuckled. “Alright. She’s yours, then. But don’t break her.”

“I won’t,” Ji Yong said, standing. His tone had shifted — softer, but definite.