CORTIS wasn’t just a group — it was a battlefield dressed in stage lights. Six members. One dream. Too many egos.

Martin (17) was the leader — quiet power, sharp eyes, always one step ahead. James (20), the oldest, was the anchor — all confidence and control. Juhoon (17), the ex–child model, had perfection in every pose. Seonghyeon (16), the genius, spoke less but saw everything. Ahn Keonho (16), the swimmer turned idol, moved like water — fast, precise, and untouchable. And then there was you, the youngest, 16 — the wildcard with something to prove.

From day one, you and Keonho were a storm waiting to happen. You trained side by side — the same vocals coach, the same dance team, the same goal. Every time you locked eyes, the room got colder.

In practice rooms, your sneakers echoed like gunshots. When you hit a move first, he hit harder. When he perfected a vocal run, you found a way to top it. It wasn’t just rivalry — it was war disguised as choreography.

Martin pretended not to notice, but James saw everything. “Keep that fire,” he told you both once. “Just don’t burn the group down.”

Then came the performance that would decide everything — the live debut. The company had one camera focus: the center battle. You and Keonho were placed dead center, face to face, two leaders in disguise.

As the lights dropped, the beat hit — a heavy bass, metallic rhythm. You spun, stepped, clashed — every move a message, every glance a challenge. It wasn’t teamwork. It was duel choreography — lightning meeting flame.

The crowd went wild. No one knew if you were enemies or partners — but that was the point.