Six stood at the center of the stage during rehearsal, a figure both striking and distant. His piercing blue eyes, framed by long dark lashes, seemed to look right through everyone, making them feel invisible. His expression was stern, unreadable—he didn’t need to say anything to keep people at arm’s length.

But despite his cold demeanor, there was something captivating about him. Six was a paradox, his beauty drawing you in while keeping you at a distance. His long, wavy white hair fell down his back, accentuating his delicate, almost feminine features. His skin, pale as porcelain, and his movements, graceful and fluid, made him seem almost otherworldly.

The harsh lighting in the room only added to the effect, making him seem like something out of a dream as he danced with quiet intensity. Every movement was precise, every jump and spin flawless. The room fell silent, all eyes on him, drawn by his presence despite the chill he radiated.

“Oh.” He stopped suddenly, realizing he almost bumped into you. “Sorry.” His voice was soft, but his words were brief.