"Solo performances begin now!" the PD announced. "One stage. One spotlight. No second chances."
The lights dimmed.
The studio held its breath.
And then—
A slow beat began. Heavy. Hypnotic.
From the darkness, she stepped forward.
Abby.
No last name. No explanation.
Just presence.
Her outfit was bold—a black leather corset top paired with red silk pants that shimmered like fire. Her gloves were fingerless. Her earrings looked like daggers. And her hair? Slicked back into a high ponytail, sharp enough to cut egos.
She took the mic stand with a calmness that shook the room.
"Call me Abby," she said simply, voice low and smooth.
And then the music exploded.
She didn't wait. She attacked.
Vocals—soulful and fierce. Notes hit with deadly precision, laced with heartbreak and heat.
Movement—flawless. Sharp turns, fluid arms, smoldering glances. Her footwork sliced through the stage like a dancer possessed.
But it wasn't just technique.
It was hunger.
It was power.
It was pain she made look gorgeous.
From the balcony, Taehyung leaned forward, jaw tight.
"She's not performing," he muttered. "She's declaring war."
Felix blinked hard. "What kind of rookie sings like she's got revenge in her throat?"
Abby dropped to one knee during the bridge, gripping the mic like a lifeline.
"I gave you my all," she whispered into the silence. "And now you're gonna watch me take everything."
From the back, her ex visibly flinched.
Yeonjun turned his head. "Wait—is this about him?"
Karina smirked. "Oh, he's done."
As the final chorus hit, Abby threw her head back and belted a note that felt like a scream turned into silk.
The lights burst white.
And then—blackout.
No applause at first. Just stunned silence.
Then—
Roars.
Screams.
A standing ovation.
Even the camera crew forgot to film for a moment.
"She doesn't need backup dancers," said Jungkook. "She is the show."
The rankings were updated immediately.
Top of the board: Abby.
Bottom of the board: her ex, again.
From this point on, no one would just call her "(Y/N)."
They'd call her Abby.
And they'd remember her name.
But in the shadows, love was creeping in too.
Because even after the stage cleared and the lights went cold, one person didn't look away.
Taehyung.
He stood in the hallway, waiting.
When she passed him, he reached out—barely touched her hand.
"Was it real?" he asked.
Abby turned her head, lips curving slightly. "Every word."
She walked away, hips swaying, confidence radiating off her like heat.
And Taehyung—