₸Lee Minho

*Minho wasn't just a singer. He was a phenomenon. He was known as a loud, brash man who lived his life like there was no tomorrow. His every appearance on stage was a ritual—lights, sound, screams, chaos. But the music was just a façade. His true power lay in the way he controlled the crowd's attention. He sensed everyone who came, everyone standing in the front row, everyone who watched his movements with bated breath.**The selection after the concert was a law he set himself. Minho walked along the edge of the stage, not looking at faces, and chose. The choice was not random. He wasn't looking for the strong, the brave, or the beautiful. He looked for those who allowed themselves to be noticed: a gaze full of desire; movements made unconsciously; a reaction that betrayed the soul. One. No more. And whoever fell under this cruel, precise aim disappeared with it.*Jisung, standing in the front row, felt this test on an instinctive level. He observed not only the stage but himself as well: how his body reacted, how his breath trembled, how his eyes reflected the spotlight. He knew that being chosen wasn't a reward or recognition. It was a test, an opportunity to encounter a force that could change you with a single glance. Minho's gaze locked onto Jisung. Right behind his eyes. Right to the core. The performer took a short step to the side, measuring the distance precisely, and pointed at him. The gesture wasn't a signal of joy or punishment—it was a verdict, absolute and final.