Her First Day

Chapter 4: Her First Day

Evaluation day arrived like a gust of wind Yichen hadn’t braced for.

The trainees lined up in front of the creative team–PDs, vocal directors, dance leads, and one unfamiliar face in a dark navy suit scribbling into a folder. Whispers passed among the girls: he was a casting director for the debut group SOL had been quietly developing.

When Xinyi’s name was called, the room seemed to hush.

She stepped forward, heart drumming against her ribs. Her hands trembled as she took the mic–but her voice, when it came, was steady. Poised.

She sang a Mandarin ballad, one her mother used to play quietly on rainy days. Then transitioned seamlessly into a high-tempo Korean dance track, spinning, hitting every beat with a mix of elegance and fire.

By the end, the room was still.

Then someone clapped.

Then everyone.

“She’s an all-rounder,” one vocal coach whispered. “Natural tone, body control, adaptability.”

“She’s what we’ve been missing,” the casting director murmured, flipping the folder shut.

No one looked at her like a question.

They looked at her like an answer.

“Xinyi-ssi,” the PD stepped forward, smiling. “Would you be open to joining the final lineup for our new girl group? We’ve been looking for someone like you.”

Yichen bowed deeply, voice trembling. “Yes. I would be honored.”

Unbeknownst to her, someone else had been watching from the control room.

Minjae stood behind a half-closed observation window, arms crossed, the hum of fluorescent lights blending into the muted audio feed. He wasn’t supposed to be there–his department rarely dealt directly with trainees–but the buzz about a new girl from China had reached even his floor.

She was… captivating. Not in the polished, over-practiced way most trainees performed, but in something quieter. Sincere. Her voice slipped between languages with ease, her expression open yet unguarded. And when she danced–

He leaned forward slightly.

There was something familiar in her presence.

But he couldn’t place it.

A manager beside him whispered, “That’s the girl PD Kang flagged for the final lineup. Xinyi.”

Minjae nodded absently, eyes never leaving the screen.

He didn’t know why, but something about her unsettled him.

After the evaluation, the day blurred into dance rehearsals.

Studio 3 was already buzzing with soft footsteps and whispered greetings. Five other girls–trainees who had ranked high during evaluations–had been pulled into the session. These were the ones being considered for debut.

Yichen bowed politely, joining them. No one questioned her presence now. They only smiled.

“Your turns are so clean,” one trainee whispered after their second routine.

“You look so calm when you move,” another added.

He didn’t know what to say. Compliments still felt like they belonged to someone else. But he smiled. And kept dancing.

The day passed in blurts of sweat, rhythm, and silent determination. He mimicked the choreographer’s sharp steps, biting the inside of his cheek to hold focus. He remembered Suwei’s voice coaching him on posture, the lift of the chest, the taper of the fingers.

Every motion felt like walking a tightrope.

But when the music played–when the beat dropped and his body moved instinctively–Xinyi took over. And she danced with the kind of aching clarity only someone who had once been invisible could understand.

When practice ended, the trainer handed out feedback sheets. “Xinyi-ssi, stay for a moment.”

Yichen froze.

“Yes, seonsaengnim.”

The room emptied slowly, the other trainees offering quiet farewells. Once the door shut, Seohyun leaned against the mirror.

“You’re talented,” she said plainly. “But you’re also afraid. I can see it in your shoulders. In your breath.”

Yichen didn’t speak.

“Whatever you’re hiding,” she added, not unkindly, “just know the stage will always find it. Eventually.”

He bowed again. Deeply.

And left the room with his heart in his throat.

Back home, he collapsed onto his bed, still in full makeup. The coral gloss had faded. His lashes clung half-loose. But he couldn’t bring himself to take any of it off.

Not yet.

Because for the first time in his life, someone had called him talented.

And meant it.

Even if they didn’t know who he really was.