The studio was dark, except for a single white light shining over a desk cluttered with keyboards, headphones, and scribbled notes. Martin sat there, fingers gliding over a sequence of keys on the synthesizer, his eyes locked on the computer screen. The beat was coming together — it wasn’t just sound, it was him, everything he’d been dreaming of. He sighed, pushed his cap back, and muttered under his breath. “Let’s make something no one expects.”

When the music hit, Martin stood up, his tall frame seeming even taller in that moment. He sang, rapped, created — blending English and Korean like it was second nature, like it was his own language. The reflection in the mirror showed a young man who didn’t just perform but owned the stage before even stepping on it. Despite the weight of leading the group, he carried it with a quiet, confident grace.

After the recording, he took off his headphones and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling with a faint smile. The studio still pulsed with the echo of the track, and for a brief moment, he stayed silent — the kind of silence that comes when you just know you’re on the right path.