The crowd settled into a low hum as the stage lights shifted—soft violet melting into icy blue. A rising synth pulsed through the speakers like a heartbeat waking up.
"Next… Jin and Solene."
A whisper swept through the audience. Everyone knew they were the duo to watch.
Jin entered first, head lowered, hand sliding along the mic stand like he was tuning the air itself. Solene followed, her steps light but deliberate, her presence calm and magnetic. Together, they looked like the eye of a storm.
The opening of "Just Keep Watching" drifted out—Tate McRae's breathy tension filling the room. Solene began the first lines, her voice soft and aching, the kind that drew the audience in rather than pushing them back.
Jun circled her slowly, choreographed like a shadow learning to break away.
Then—the beat snapped. The bass deepened. The rhythm tightened.
Jun lifted the mic.
His rap slid in like a confession:
"yeah, you keep on watchin',like you know my options.say you're fine, you're nothin'—I can hear you talkin'.and I'm tryna stay focused,but your eyes are the loudest.I been givin' you honest,you been givin' me cautious.so just keep watchin'—maybe then you'll see,I'm not who I was,I'm who I'm tryna be."
Solene moved around him in slow, sweeping extensions, her choreography echoing each line—the tension, the hesitation, the ache. When she rejoined the original melody, it felt like they were stitching the song into something new, something only they could perform.
By the final note, the crowd wasn't just cheering—they were stunned.
Backstage, a few duos exchanged uneasy glances. Even Deji, arms crossed, stared a moment too long. Jin and Solene did not just entered.
They had arrived.
The applause was still echoing when James, the show's host, appeared from behind the curtain, grinning like he had just watched history being made.
"Jin. Solene." He held the mic out to them. "You two just lit that stage on fire. How are you feeling right now?"
Solene laughed first — breathless, glowing. "Honestly? I'm just relieved we didn't fall over each other," she joked, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It felt… good. Really good."
Jin stepped closer, a little calmer, but with that spark in his eyes. "We wanted to show something real," he said. "The song has a tension to it, and I thought adding the rap would help tell our side of that emotion."
James raised a brow. "And it worked. The judges looked like their souls left their bodies for a second."
Solene nudged Jun with her shoulder. "He pretends he's all chill, but he was stressing over that verse for three nights."
Jin smirked. "Art takes time."
James chuckled. "Well, if this is what your 'stress' looks like, the other duos should probably be nervous."
He gestured toward the hallway. "Alright — let's get you two into the House."
A production assistant pulled the door open, revealing a long corridor glowing with neon strips and LED-lit panels that shifted in color with every step. Jin and Solene walked side by side, their duffel bags bouncing lightly against their shoulders.
Jin glanced around. "Wow… they weren't playing."
Solene slowed just a little, taking in the framed photos of past winners along the walls. "Feels bigger than I imagined."
As they reached the House entrance, the doors slid open with a soft hydraulic hush, revealing a massive common room — vaulted ceilings, velvet couches, half-open doors leading to team bedrooms, and camera lenses tucked everywhere like tiny, unblinking eyes.
A few duos inside turned to watch them enter.
Lennox whispered to her partner, "Here come the golden kids."
Blaze, sitting on the arm of a couch, let his gaze linger on Jin — impressed but guarded. indigo and thira couldn't wait to befriend this iconic duo…
James gave Jin and Solene a final encouraging nod. "This is home now. Settle in, meet your competitors… and good luck. You'll need it."
He stepped back as the doors closed behind them.
Jin exhaled. "Game on."
Solene took a slow look around the room, eyes sharp, analysing every face. "Yeah," she said softly. "Let's make sure they keep watching."
The studio lights cut abruptly to black.
A single drum strike echoed through the hall — deep, metallic, almost warlike.
Then another.
And another.
A spotlight snapped on, revealing Nicholas standing completely still at central stage, head bowed, dressed in sharp black with silver accents that caught the light like armour.
To his left, Theo rose from a crouched position, shadows slicing across him as the opening horns of "IRON" by WOODKID blasted through the speakers.
The audience erupted — this was a statement.
Nicholas lifted his head as the verse began, his expression carved with purpose.
Theo moved in wide, powerful arcs, every step synced with the pounding drums. Their energy wasn't warm or inviting. It was commanding.
The LED screens behind them burst to life with a monochrome battlefield animation — smoke, silhouettes, shifting debris — giving their performance a mythic, almost ritualistic atmosphere.
Their choreography hit hard; Sharp arm sweeps on each crescendo, Synchronized footwork during the drums, A mirrored leap on the first "I'm ready to fight" line, Theo circling Nicholas like a guardian or shadow
When the chorus exploded, they moved in perfect unison, bodies snapping into angles that matched the horns — bold, tense, relentless.
Nicholas wasn't just dancing. He was commanding. Theo wasn't just supporting. He was amplifying.
The crowd was stunned, some on their feet, some frozen, watching two performers who looked like they were born inside this song.
As the final horn blared, they ended chest-to-chest, breathing hard, unmoving — statues forged in sound.
Silence held for a full second.
Then the room detonated with cheers.
Even backstage, a few duos exchanged looks that meant Oh. We're in trouble.
James practically burst through the curtain as Nicholas and Theo came offstage, both still catching their breath, sweat shining like armour under the lights.
"Okay—wow," James said, eyes wide. "That wasn't a performance. That was a declaration of war."
Nicholas didn't smile, but a small flicker of pride crossed his face. "Woodkid's music demands intensity," he replied. "We wanted to respect that. No half-measures."
Theo let out a low laugh, shaking out his arms. "We rehearsed that until our bones hated us," he said. "So I'm glad it came across as… powerful."
James held the mic closer. "The whole room felt like it froze when you two hit that final pose. What was going through your head in that moment?"
Nicholas answered first, crisp and controlled. "Alignment. Breath. Precision. When you're working with music that grand, you don't just perform it—you serve it."
Theo nudged him with an elbow. "Translation: he's a perfectionist."
Nicholas shot him a sideways glance. "And he's the one who makes sure I don't combust," he added. "We balance each other."
James grinned. "Well, whatever the dynamic is—keep it. Because the crowd looked scared. In a good way."
He stepped back, motioning toward the hallway. "Come on, gentlemen. Let's get you into the House."
A crew member opened the door leading into the contestant wing. The hallway was dim, lined with shifting gold lights that reflected off Nicholas's outfit like molten metal.
Theo whistled low. "They really said budget. Damn."
As they approached the main House entrance, chatter from inside grew louder. The doors slid open.
Several heads turned immediately.
Jun paused mid-sentence.
Mira's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Jade whispered, not bothering to hide it this time: "Here we go again—another pair trying to be the main characters."
Theo gave a quick, easy smile to the room. "Hey everyone."
Nicholas simply nodded, posture immaculate, scanning the space like he was assessing a battlefield.
James gave them both a final pat on the back.
"This is your home now. Make yourselves comfortable—if that's even possible in here."
The doors shut.
Nicholas exhaled through his nose. "The energy is… competitive."
Theo slung an arm around his shoulders. "That's the point. Let's shake the house a little."
Nicholas didn't smile—but his eyes said he already planned to.
The stage darkened again, but this time not with drama — with softness. Warm amber lights rose slowly, like sunrise through fog.
A single stool waited at center stage. Aria stepped into the light first.
She was barefoot, wrapped in simple earth-toned fabric that looked borrowed more than designed. The moment she inhaled, the audience leaned forward — she had that quiet sort of gravity that pulled people in without asking.
Storm entered a heartbeat later. He rolled his shoulders as he walked, loose and unhurried, his posture grounded. His clothing matched hers, stripped back and honest — outfits made for telling the truth, not performing perfection.
The first delicate pluck of "False Confidence" drifted through the speakers. Aria closed her eyes.
Then she sang.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was painfully real, trembling like someone revealing a truth they had tried to swallow. Storm began to move around her with slow, deliberate softness, his steps tracing the edges of her voice, their contemporary routine blooming like a conversation neither of them dared speak aloud.
When the chorus rose, Storm reached for her arms and lifted her into a wide, sweeping arc. Aria let her note crack — a clean, intentional break right on "Don't take yourself so seriously…" It wasn't smooth. It wasn't perfect. It was painfully human.
Their choreography unfolded like two people trying to find each other in the dark. Storm steadied her whenever she lost balance, catching her before she hit the ground. She would pull away from him, only to circle back when the music softened again. Their hands trembled in the air as the lyrics questioned certainty, fingers brushing but never fully settling. When the drums shifted deeper into the second chorus, both of them dropped to the floor together, a sudden collapse that felt like surrender rather than defeat.
Nothing about the performance was flashy or designed for applause. It lived in the small moments — the breaths they shared, the hesitations, the searching.
On the final line, Aria's voice thinned to a whisper.
"I've been wearing nothing every time I get here…"
Storm rested a gentle hand on her back. She leaned into it, just for a second, and then the lights faded.
Silence hung over the room, dense and holy. Even breathing felt inappropriate.
Then the crowd erupted — not in thunder but in waves, softer, deeper, moved rather than impressed.
Backstage, even the duos who prided themselves on staying detached exchanged uneasy glances.
Efua murmured, almost to herself, "Oh… they're the emotional assassins."
Jun leaned toward Solene, kept his voice low. "That was… damn."
The applause was still lingering in the studio when James appeared, grinning as he stepped into the quiet backstage corridor.
"Aria. Storm. That was… something else," he said, gesturing toward the stage. "How are you feeling right now?"
Aria smiled softly, a little breathless. "Honestly… relieved," she admitted. "It felt like we were telling the story we wanted to tell. That's all we wanted."
Storm's calm presence balanced her intensity. "We just wanted to be honest with it," he said. "The song has a certain fragility, and we wanted every movement, every note, to carry that. It's less about perfection and more about feeling."
James nodded, leaning in. "And it definitely came across. The audience felt it too. Did it scare you, performing something so… intimate on a stage like that?"
Aria glanced at Storm, and he gave a small shrug. "There's always nerves," she said. "But once we started, it wasn't about fear. It was about trust — in each other, in the song."
James grinned. "Well, the judges are already talking. Let's see if the House reacts the same way."
A crew member led them down the hallway, lights reflecting off the polished floor in warm, shifting patterns. The corridor was quiet compared to the roaring stage, almost a transition from one world to another.
As the House doors slid open, the main room came into view — a wide space with vaulted ceilings, plush furniture, and camera lenses tucked discreetly into corners. The air buzzed with the low murmur of duos already inside, sizing up the new arrivals.
Jun and Solene were seated near the couches, eyes lingering on the pair as they entered. Thira's whisper reached her partner, careful but pointed: "Emotional assassins," she muttered again.
Aria stepped in first, her gaze sweeping the room, observing without judgment. Storm followed, calm and steady, scanning the space like a sentinel. A few duos offered small nods, some wary, some curious.
James gave them a final encouraging smile. "Welcome home. Make yourselves comfortable — but remember, this isn't just a house. It's a battlefield."
The doors closed behind them. Aria exhaled slowly. "It feels… different," she said softly.
Storm gave a quiet nod. "Yeah. But now we know we can handle anything."
The lights dropped low, but this time the energy was electric. A single strobe flickered, cutting across the stage, and the bassline hit like a heartbeat on overdrive.
"Up next… Efua and Zhihao!"
The crowd erupted before they even appeared. Efua burst onto the stage first, a confident grin lighting up her face. Zhihao followed in perfect sync, every movement sharp, precise, and teasing — a pair who clearly knew the effect they had on an audience.
The opening beats of "Timber" blared through the speakers. Efua's voice sliced over the rhythm — playful, commanding, daring. Zhihao mirrored her energy in a dance full of spins, slides, and sharp, staccato movements, syncing perfectly with the thumping beat.
Where Jun and Solene had brought emotional depth, and Aria and Storm had brought vulnerability, Efua and Zhihao brought chaos in its most polished form. They jumped, twirled, and dropped in unison, turning the stage into a storm of energy and color. Every beat seemed designed to make the crowd lean forward, their excitement building like a wave on the edge of crashing.
By the time the chorus hit, Zhihao had leapt into a lift, spinning Efua above his head while she belted the signature lines with perfect timing. The audience screamed. The judges leaned forward. Even duos backstage turned to watch, some with awe, some with envy.
As the final note blared, Efua and Zhihao landed with a dramatic flourish, chest heaving, smiles wide and victorious. The crowd went wild, clapping, cheering, whistling — and Efua winked at the camera like she'd already won half the battle.
Backstage, some duos groaned. Others whispered quietly, impressed despite themselves. Jun muttered, "Well… that's one way to steal the spotlight."
Efua gave Zhihao a triumphant high-five. "This house just got a little more interesting," she said, eyes gleaming with mischief.
James stepped up as Efua and Zhihao caught their breath, the beat of the stage still echoing faintly through the studio walls. "Efua. Zhihao. That was… explosive," he said, grinning. "How are you two feeling right now?"
Efua laughed, leaning slightly into the mic. "Exhilarated. Honestly, I think I scared a few people out there," she said, smirking. "But that's kind of the point, right?"
Zhihao shrugged, his grin matching hers. "It's all about the energy. If we don't bring it, someone else will. So we might as well have fun while we're at it."
James raised an eyebrow. "Fun, huh? You two looked… a little ruthless out there."
Efua tilted her head. "Ruthless? Maybe. But it's calculated. Every spin, every drop, every shout — it's intentional. You've got to know how to play the game if you want to win it."
Zhihao nodded. "Exactly. We're here to compete. We respect the other duos, but we also know what we bring."
James chuckled. "Well, the viewers definitely felt it. The audience too. Alright — let's get you into the House before the others start plotting their revenge."
The hallway lights glowed in shifting amber as Efua and Zhihao made their way toward the House doors, their energy still buzzing from the stage. They moved together like a well-oiled machine — confident, synchronized, untouchable.
The doors slid open, revealing the main common room. Duos inside immediately noticed the pair entering. Some glanced nervously, others couldn't hide a smirk at their audacity.
Efua threw a playful wink at Nicholas and Theo, then gave a mock bow. Zhihao, leaning casually against the doorway, scanned the room with that same easy confidence.
James stepped back with a smile. "Welcome to your new home. Enjoy it… but remember, in here, the game has only just begun."
Efua exhaled theatrically. "Oh, it's on."
Zhihao smirked. "And we just raised the bar."