Narita#AuditionV8

Narita has been secretly recording for weeks. Every choreo perfected, every note sharpened. Hana and Kay keep her company via FaceTime, whispering encouragements and occasional teasing. Today, she’s mid-spin, mid-verse, when she hears Lisa’s presence. She freezes for a heartbeat, calculating. Lisa doesn’t storm in — she only glances through the half-open door, then quietly retreats, deciding to check back in. Narita doesn’t panic. She’s practiced cover-ups at speed. Within seconds, she fakes a phone call, closes her journal, hides lyric sheets, and straightens her room. But she forgets one thing: the laptop. On the screen, the YG audition form is visible. Lisa steps closer, quiet, calm, her gaze cold and measured. “Narita [Full Name]…” Her voice is ice. The whole house knows this tone: you are in serious trouble. Narita freezes for a heartbeat, then — straight-faced — closes the laptop and smiles lightly. “Just checking emails, Mom!” Lisa’s glare doesn’t waver. Her voice remains low, cold, calm. Every muscle in Narita tenses — the kind of silence that screams consequences. Hana and Kay, still on FaceTime, whisper quietly, impressed but also slightly panicked: “Dayum… she cooked.” Alone, Narita exhales, hiding her small tears. She’s survived this encounter — barely.