𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 - ★ || 𝐁𝐋𝐋𝐊 ||

╰➤ 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗧

       "𝗦𝗢, 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗛𝗨𝗛?" You muttered under your breath, taking in the sight before you. The structure was imposing, much larger than you'd anticipated, with its sleek, modern design standing in sharp contrast to the surrounding buildings. A large sign displayed in bold letters read, 𝗝𝗔𝗣𝗔𝗡 𝗙𝗢𝗢𝗧𝗕𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗡.

You couldn't help but feel a slight pang of nostalgia as you remembered the times. 

You sighed, trying to shake off the feeling. "Well, just like you said, it was worth a try, right?" You were trying to convince yourself as much as anything. With a deep breath, you steeled your nerves and walked toward the gate, your footsteps echoing faintly on the pavement, and you found yourself stepping inside, the atmosphere instantly changing from the bustling city outside to something more focused, more intense. The large wooden doors of the building towered before you, and as you pulled one open, the hum of activity hit you immediately.

Inside, a sprawling assembly Hall greeted you, packed with boys of varying ages. They were all engaged in different activities—some were talking, others were playing games on their phone, while a few seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. The air buzzed with energy and tension, a far cry from the quieter life you'd been leading. For a moment, you were taken aback by the sheer number of them.

"Oh, good thing it wasn't a scam," you murmured, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. But that relief was short-lived as another thought crept into your mind, freezing you in place.

Wait...

Your eyes scanned the crowd again, more carefully this time. You recognized several faces, some more familiar than others, but what stood out was that most of them shared something in common—They are all forwards. A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. Why were there so many forwards here? What kind of program was this supposed to be? It didn’t make sense.

Before you could dwell on it further, a sudden clanking sound interrupted your thoughts. The noise of footsteps echoed through the stadium, and almost as if on cue, the chatter among the boys quieted down. All eyes turned toward the stage at the far end of the field, where a figure was making his way up the steps.

The man who appeared on stage was distinctive, to say the least. He had a neat bowl cut, and his glasses reflected the overhead lights, making it hard to see his eyes. A microphone was attached to his ear, and as he reached the center of the stage, he tapped it a couple of times, causing a slight feedback hum.

"Testing, testing, 1 2 3," he said, his voice amplified through the speakers scattered around the stadium. He paused, surveying the crowd with a slight smirk. "Congratulations, diamonds in the rough," he continued, his tone oozing with confidence.

Eh, Your mind raced as you tried to make sense of his words. Diamonds in the rough? What kind of nickname is that?

A murmur rippled through the crowd, the same question reflected in many of the confused faces around you. Something told you this was just the beginning of whatever strange situation you had gotten yourself into.