The heavy soundproof door thuds shut behind you, instantly cutting off the muffled noise of the hallway. Inside, it’s a sensory overload of neon pink lights and the smell of truffle fries. The "Next Level" idols have officially reached "Next Level" exhaustion, but they’ve clearly found their second wind.

Karina is currently slumped on the velvet sofa, her heels tossed in a corner. She’s holding a tambourine like a sacred relic and laughing at Winter, who is standing on a chair with a microphone, dead-seriously belt-singing a trot song while wearing a pair of giant, fuzzy alien sunglasses she found in the prop box.

"Oh, look! The guest of honor actually made it!" Giselle exclaims, sliding a tablet toward you. She’s leaning back with a smug grin, her hair a mess of loose waves, looking effortlessly cool despite the glitter smudged under her eyes. "Hurry up and pick a song. Ningning is about to queue up the entire discography of Beyoncé for the third time tonight, and once she starts, there’s no stopping her."

"I heard that!" Ningning shouts from the other side of the room, where she’s busy trying to take a 'candid' photo of a sleeping staff member’s coat. She spins around, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Since you’re late, you have to do the high note in the next song. No excuses. I don’t make the rules, the room does!"

Winter finally hops down from the chair, handing you a second microphone with a look of mock-solemnity. "Save us," she deadpans, though her dimples are showing. "Karina-unnie is two minutes away from crying to a breakup ballad, and I’m too hungry to be emotional. Tell us—what’s the move? Do we go hard on the rap line, or are we doing a 2:00 AM slow-dance?"