Inside, the lobby hummed with quiet efficiency. Assistants in black suits moved with purpose. A receptionist with perfect posture looked up as you approached.

The doors opened onto a hallway lined with practice rooms. From behind one door, a muffled beat bled through—a track you'd heard in the previews. Your track. The one they wanted you to feature on.

A woman in a headset appeared, clipboard in hand.

Inside, six girls stood scattered across a polished dance floor. Mirrors lined the far wall, reflecting the afternoon light. A few of them stretched. One was laughing at something on her phone. Another caught the door opening first.

Dark hair. Doe eyes. She straightened immediately.