PHOENIX

Training

On her first day, Evara walked into BigHit with nothing but a small duffle bag which she got from a nearby thrift store and a steely determination in her eyes.\

 She didn't bother introducing herself beyond the basics. When asked her name, she simply said, "Evara."

 The trainers and other trainees noticed her immediately—not because she was loud or attention-seeking, but because she carried an aura of mystery. There was something about the way she moved, the way she observed everyone and everything around her, that made people stop and take notice.

And then there were those unique eyes which no one have ever seen their life--violet silver.

The trainers were used to new trainees being a bit nervous, eager to please, and trying to fit in.

 But Evara was different.

 She was quiet, almost unnervingly so, and yet there was a bluntness to her words when she did speak.

 "What do I need to do?" she asked during her first meeting with the trainers, her voice steady, without a hint of anxiety. Her tone was so matter-of-fact that it left the trainers momentarily speechless.

By the third day, the trainers started noticing something remarkable about her.

 Evara, who had confessed she had never danced before, was picking up choreography faster than anyone expected. While other trainees struggled with basic footwork, Evara mirrored the instructors with an uncanny precision. 

But it wasn't just her speed that was impressive—it was the way she danced. There was a raw intensity in her movements, a passion that belied her lack of experience.

 She was rough around the edges, sure, but there was potential in every step she took.

In the rap classes, her progress was even more astounding. She had an innate sense of rhythm, and while her technique was far from polished, she attacked each english verse with a ferocity that surprised even the most seasoned trainers. 

But she would mess up korean pronounciation.

Despite her rapid progress, there was still one thing the trainers were struggling with—her vocal tone.

 Every time she sang, it was clear that Evara had a unique voice, but it was as if she was holding back. 

By the end of the week, Evara's routine had become almost mechanical. 

She would arrive at the company early in the morning, before anyone else, and stay until the late hours of the night. The trainers noticed that she never seemed tired, never complained, and never socialized with the other trainees.

 She was always focused, always working, as if there was nothing else in the world for her.

Unbeknownst to the trainers, Evara's late nights weren't just about dedication—they were about survival.

 The dorm BigHit provided her was small and basic, just a tiny kitchen, a bathroom, a hall, and a balcony. But to Evara, it was more than enough. She didn't even bother to look at the kitchen. She wasn't there to live; she was there to escape.

The trainers, who reported to Bang PD daily, couldn't help but discuss her progress with a mix of awe and confusion. "She's something else," one of them said during a meeting with Bang PD. "I've never seen someone learn so fast. But... there's something about her. She's so quiet, so... closed off."

Bang PD, sitting behind his desk, listened intently. He had been keeping a close eye on Evara, intrigued by the reports he received. "Is she fitting in with the others?" he asked, his voice calm but curious.