#addition

"But we still feel like there’s this huge piece missing." she continued. "I don’t think I’d feel confident debuting a group with just the girls we have so far."

The scene shifted, now showing Sungdeuk, carrying the same tone as Missy.

"I talked to Bang about our lack of options so far." he added, now in korean. "He gave us a list of around 20 to 25 trainees and asked us to choose one of them."

The screen cut.

A montage began, showing different practice rooms, with different girls. Korean, Japanese, American. Dancers, rappers, singers. Younger trainees, older ones. All aiming for the same goal: debut. The sounds overlapped, music cutting in and out, sneakers sliding against the floor, breath growing heavier with each repetition.

A dancer, with sharp, powerful, but slightly off-beat in her transitions, her frustration visible every time she caught herself in the mirror.

Another trainee, with strong vocals filling the room, but her body remained stiff, her eyes flickering constantly toward her reflection, searching for approval.

A rapper, confident, charismatic, owning the space for a moment… until she missed a cue, the timing slipping just enough to break the illusion.

Then, the noise softened. A quieter room appeared on screen with a group of more advanced trainees. The lighting was dimmer, the atmosphere heavier. No chatter, no unnecessary movement, just repetition. Again. And again.

The kind of discipline that only came from years of doing the same thing over and over until it stopped feeling like effort.

The camera lingered longer this time.

"We tried to make it as fair as possible." Missy continued in her interview. "We know a trained K-pop trainee might have an advantage, especially compared to girls who are completely new to this. But we narrowed it down to two names." she leaned back slightly, with a hint of smile forming.

The screen cut again.

A meeting room was shown with muted tones and glass walls reflecting the movement of people outside. Papers spread across the table, filled with notes, rankings, evaluations. There was a screen at the front displayed paused trainee profiles.

Missy sat on one side, arms crossed, eyes scanning the documents in front of her. Sungdeuk stood near the screen, remote in hand, posture straight. And few HYBE and Geffen staff members sat quietly, exchanging subtle glances and coments.

The camera shifted and showed Bang sat at the head of the table.

Still and calm. But his presence alone made the room feel way more serious.

"We need someone who can hold the group." Missy stated, leaning forward slightly. "Not just keep up."

Sungdeuk clicked the remote. A trainee appears on the screen.

"She’s strong vocally." he explained as the translator relayed his words. "But she lacks consistency in performance."

Missy nodded once.

"She’s clearly not ready for the pressure." she says simply, shrugging.

Another trainee.

"She has great energy." Sungdeuk continued. "Very expressive."

Missy tilted her head, watching closely.

"Too unstable." she replies. "She burns out too fast."

Another clip plays, a trainee dancing, rapping, singing. Sungdeuk pauses it midway.

"She’s an interesting one." he says, pointing at the screen.

Missy watches the screen for a second longer.

"Interesting isn’t enough, tho." she answers.

Silence settled into the room. Not uncomfortable, just unresolved. The kind of silence where everyone knows they’re missing something, but no one has said it yet.

Minutes passed before Bang spoke.

"What about the trained ones? Don't we have three?" he asked.

Sungdeuk hesitated for half a second before switching the screen. A new set of clips began, showing more controlled and precise girls, with years of visible training in every movement.

One girl dances. Clean, but flat. Another sings, stable but forgettable.

A different clip. A practice room, filled with important people. A girl danced alone to a heavy hip-hop track, clearly a monthly evaluation recording. No distractions, even with the audience.

Her movements were sharp, but not forced. Controlled, but not stiff. Every detail intentional. Every transition deliberate. There was no urgency in her movements.

Missy leans forward slighly.

"Pause." she said.

Sungdeuk stopped the video, recognizing the girl.

"Her name's Isabeli, from Brazil. She's been training since 2019." he said, reading some files. "She’s holding back and being a little stiff. That's out biggest challenge when it comes to her." he told.

"But she’s not weak." Missy adds immediately. "That’s control."

"She doesn’t stand out immediately." another staff member speaks carefully. "She has impressive rap skills, including writing, but her vocals are still something we've been trying to perfect."

Missy looks at them.

"She has the potential."

Silence again. The kind that feels like a decision forming before it’s spoken. Sungdeuk switches the screen, trying to move on. Another trainee appears. She was bright, expressive, immediately noticeable.

"She’s the other option." he says. "Born in the U.S but her family is completely korean. She's with us for not more than 1 year."

Missy watches, then leans back, exhaling.

"I'm pretty sure she'll have a lot of chances." she tilted her head. "But that one, the brazilian one, she knows how to build."

"But isn't the public deciding anyway?" Sungdeuk giggled.

"But this is also a chance to make these girls known." Missy pointed out. "We don't have a rapper, and she's magnetic. I'm pretty sure we all want to watch her video again."

Sungdeuk looked at Bang, who nodded. Not dramatical, but just final.

"Call her." Bang said.

The scene was cut again.

A door opening was shown, the same practice room from before.

The girl sat in the center of the floor, dressed in all black, her long wavy hair falling forward as she leaned slightly over her phone. The room was quiet again, only the faint echo of music from the room next door.

"Can we start the interview?" the director asked her.

She finally looked up, placing her phone on her legs. Then, before she could say anything, some letters showed on the screen: