4 trainees stood in a practice room, sweating through a song
that wasn't theirs until it became theirs.
They fought, they laughed, they stumbled, and by the end they
weren't just covering someone else's dream, they were becoming
SNWB Ray, Idle Pulse, Ryan Warm Pulse, Kian Edge Pulse Shun,
Pure Pulse. Four boys, one name, one song.
And now the spotlight is coming. The cameras are ready, the
teasers are rolling, and the world is about to see them for
the very first time. But famous and simple, when the
light shines on one, it casts shadows on the others.
When rivals step forward, competition turns sharper.
And for Ray, the stage will give him everything he's wanted, but
maybe cost him more than he knows.
This is We are SNWB Episode 2 the spotlight.
SNWB. The studio was no longer just a
set. With the lights blazing and the
track pulsing. It became their stage.
The choreographer clapped sharply.
Positions again from the top. The music hit and the boys fell
into line. Their sneakers thudded against
the taped markers on the floor, arms slicing the air in perfect
sync. At least, almost perfect.
Kian more to the left. The voice cut through the beat
like a whip. Kian's smirk faltered, his jaw
tightened, and he threw himself into the next move, sharper,
harder, as though daring the mirrors to catch a mistake.
Sweat flew from his hair with every turn.
He hated being called out. Ray Center, as always, didn't
break. His grin only widened, feeding
off the spotlight as he spun into the chorus.
Every move was big, magnetic, demanding to be noticed.
Idle pulse flawless. Even when messy, Ryan kept the
line steady, his timing precise. He didn't chase attention.
He anchored it. When Ray stepped lean too far
forward, Ryan shifted a fraction back, grounding the frame so the
formation held warm pulse, the quiet balance.
Shun, cheeks flushed, stumbled half a beat late.
His eyes flicked nervously toward Kian, then the
choreographer, then back to the mirror.
But he caught himself clapping softly on the offbeat, laughing
as if to shake off the nerves, and when the chorus hit again,
he landed his move with surprising clarity, innocence
cutting through the tension. Good again.
The choreographer barked. The track restarted.
They moved, reset, moved again, over and over until the sweat on
the floor blurred into the lights above.
Every gesture was checked, corrected, sharpened.
Ray, bigger arms. Ryan, watch your line, pian, I
said left. The repetition wore on them, but
it also bound them. By the 10th take, Their breaths
matched, their sneakers squeaked in rhythm.
Their shadows in the mirror looked less like 4 separate boys
and more like 1 moving body. But inside the formation,
tension simmered. Ray's charisma pulled everything
toward him. Kian bristled with every
correction, pushing harder, faster, like the dance floor was
a battlefield. Shun tried to follow Kian's
lead, clinging to his pace while Ryan's steady gaze kept the
group from collapsing into chaos.
The cameras rolled, the flashes popped, and even through the
sweat, the exhaustion, the barks of the choreographer, the truth
was undeniable. They didn't just look like
trainees anymore, they looked like idols.
The music faded, and the choreographer wiped his brow
with the edge of his sleeve. He leaned toward the producer,
voice lowered but not enough to be hidden.
They've got it. Formations tighter than last
week, even. Kian's cleaning his lines.
The producer didn't look up from his phone, but his tone was
clipped, satisfied. Good.
They need to be ready sooner than expected.
The film director, adjusting the lens on his shoulder rig, gave a
small nod. Ray's pulling center well.
Camera loves him. The others balance it out.
Looks like a group now. Ray froze mid sip from his water
bottle, ears catching the words, though the rest blurred.
His lips curled into a grin, wider than before, the kind that
wasn't for the mirror this time, but for himself.
Across the room, Kian noticed his eyes narrowed and the beat
restarted. SNWB.
The practice room was gone. In its place, the company's main
conference hall. Screens lining the wall.
Staff crowded shoulder to shoulder, the buzz of caffeine
and deadlines thick in the air. On the largest screen, their
teaser played white flashes, metallic logo, 4 silhouettes and
sharp poses. Ray front and center, silver
hair catching the strobe. Ryan angled back, steady as a
shadow, Keon off to the side, smirk cutting through the
darkness. Shun softened at the rear,
innocent eyes made brighter by the stark contrast.
The teaser ended with the single word SNWB.
See new world breathe. The room erupted.
Staff murmured, Phones buzzed. Comments flew already from the
live upload. Who's the silver haired 1?
Mcnay looks adorable. Rap line already.
Iconic. Ray leaned back in his chair,
smirk tugging at his lips. He didn't need to check his
phone to know the comments would stick to him.
Silver hair center spotlight. Shun sitting at the far end,
fumble with his phone anyway. His cheeks lit pink as he
whispered. Hyung, they're saying I'm cute.
Ray chuckled, ruffling his hair without looking.
Of course they are, Mcnay, that's your job.
Keon scrolled furiously, jaw tight.
His eyes darted at the screen every time Ray's name or face
flashed in the chatter center. Doesn't last forever.
He muttered under his breath, tapping the phone so hard the
stylist rattled against the case.
Ryan said nothing. He simply folded his arms and
kept his gaze steady on the screen, absorbing, not reacting.
The producer clapped once, silencing the room.
Teasers live, comments are strong.
We ride this wave hard. Music video shoot next week.
The screen replayed, flashing Ray's grin again, the spotlight
unmissable, and Kian's fists clenched tighter in his lap.
SNWB. The dorm lights were dim, the
hum of the fridge carrying faintly down the hall behind 1/2
shut door. Ray and Ryan's room glowed soft
from a desk lamp, Ray sprawled across his bed, hair still
styled from the shoot, his phone in his hand but his voice
chasing Ryan instead. You heard them, right?
His grin was smug, even against the ceiling.
Director, producer. They said it was good.
That was about me. Ryan sat straighter at his desk,
folding clothes 1 by 1, tone even.
I heard them say the group looked good.
That's what matters. Ray rolled onto his side, lips
quirking. Sure, but you know someone has
to stand out. That's me.
Ryan finally glanced over, eyes steady, not unkind.
If you shine good. Just make sure it's a light the
rest of us can stand in too. Ray chuckled under his breath,
but the sound softened, less a laugh, more the weight of
unspoken things. Across the hall, Shun's voice
carried through the thin walls, muffled by fabric key.
And hyung, you look ridiculous. Inside their room, both boys sat
cross legged on the lower bunk, glossy facial masks plastered
across their faces. Empty packets were scattered
like confetti on the blanket. Shun giggled as he tugged at the
corner of his own mask, his wide eyes crinkling with amusement.
PN shot him a look, sharp even under the sheet of serum.
Shut up, this is good for the skin.
He tapped his cheek with two fingers, smirking.
Fans like flawless. Shun giggled again, muffling the
sound in his hands. The playfulness filled the small
room until his phone buzzed. He glanced at it casually, then
froze. His eyes widened, breath
catching in his throat. Kian hyung, look, look at this.
Dark silhouettes lined up across the teaser image, Obsidian.
As they stared, a new line of text faded in beneath the name.
Debut. 2 weeks. Shun's voice cracked.
Two weeks. That's one week before us.
His hand shook slightly as he held the phone out, masks
slipping at the edges. His voice was smaller now.
They. They look strong, don't they?
Kian leaned closer, narrowing his eyes at the faceless
figures. For a moment, his jaw tightened,
then the smirk returned, cocky and unbothered.
He snatched the phone, looked once more than tossed it back
onto Shun's lap. Please, They're hiding in
shadows for a reason. Dramatic names, dark filters,
it's all for show. Doesn't mean they'll win.
Shun clutched the phone, shoulders still tense.
But everyone's already talking about them.
Kian stretched out across the bed, peeling the mask from his
face and flicking it toward the trash.
His voice was casual, but the edge lingered.
Relax, Macnae, stay on your side of the bed tonight.
Shun blinked, caught off guard. The words stung more than he
wanted to admit. He forced a laugh, tugging his
blanket closer. What?
Yeah, of course. But when the lamp clicked off
and the room sank into dark, his blush lingered deeper than the
mask's warmth, heavier than he understood.
Under his pillow, the phone screen glowed a moment longer,
silver letters burning into the dark.
SNWB. The weeks blurred into noise.
Obsidian's debut came first. Dark tones, black leather,
silver chains. Their song crashed like Thunder,
sleek and polished, the crowd chanting their name as headlines
scrolled past. Powerful rookies stormed the
scene. The next Global Idols.
Ray scrolled on his phone late that night, 1 elbow propped on
his pillow. He froze when he saw a familiar
face in Obsidians lineup. The hair was different, the
stair colder, but Ray knew a friend from high school.
He locked the screen before anyone could notice, but the
thought stayed pressing like a drum beat in his chest.
SNWB. Now it was here.
SNWB's final music video Shooting.
Cameras rolled on tracks for months.
They drilled choreography and practice rooms.
This time, the red tally lights were real.
Every mistake could follow them forever.
Positions. The director barked.
The track hit and they moved. Ray snapped to center, silver
hair catching even the dull lights.
He grinned into the nearest lens.
Instinctive, magnetic. The cameraman muttered under his
breath. Natural.
Ryan steadied the frame, adjusting Shun's step with a
subtle tug while his own line stayed clear.
His voice over the mic check was steady even here.
Kean leaned into the crane camera, smirk sharp.
Rat break, raw but alive. Shun stumbled on his first
entrance, wide eyes locking on the blinking red light.
His breath hitched until Ryan's harmony cut through the monitor,
steading him. Shun caught the line, sang
clear, and staff watching at the sides smile despite themselves.
The first run ended again. Adjust your angle, fix the
bridge timing. They reset by the 5th take.
Lungs burned, shirts stuck to skin.
But with every reset, the angles sharpened, the frames clicked.
It wasn't just practice anymore. Their music video was taking
shape. Then came the wait for their
official debut stage. Shun curled in his seat,
mouthing lyrics, but his eyes darted toward the door every
time staff hurried past. At one point, his voice cracked.
What if my mic cuts out? Ryan checked the pack quietly
for the third time, steady hands calming more than wires.
Kien sprawled wide, legs bouncing with pent up fire.
His smirk was still there, but his jaw flexed whenever the roar
of another fan chant rattled the walls.
Ray looked focused, but a flicker of unease traced his
face. His phone lit up every few
minutes, scrolling comments, teaser reactions, already
imagining tomorrow's headlines. When Shun whispered about
nerves, Ray cracked one eye open.
They won't bite, Mcnay. Just look into the lens and
smile. The camera always loves the
honest ones. Ryan sat straighter than the
rest, humming the chorus under his breath.
When the silence stretched too long, he drummed fingertips on
the table, pulling them back into rhythm without a word.
Hours crawled by until finally, SMWB stem by.
They stood. Shun tugged his sleeves.
Kian cracked his knuckles. Ray rolled his shoulders.
Ryan's gaze scanned them all. Once steady, the waiting was
over. The lights dropped, the intro
thundered, and NWB burst onto their moves.
Rey's charisma hit first, silver hair blazing under the
spotlights, grin sharp, movements magnetic.
Ryan's voice cut through the hall, rich and emotional,
filling the air with warmth Polish could never buy.
Kian attacked his rap break, reckless, raw fire spilling past
every imperfect beat, and Shun, cheeks flushed, eyes wide when
his high sub vocal soared. The crowd screamed so loud he
flinched, then grinned through it.
It wasn't flawless. Steps lagged, breath wavered,
but the rookie energy hit like lightning.
Raw, unfiltered, unforgettable stuff.
Behind, the monitors exchanged glances, some even clapping
under their breath. The boys froze in their final
pose, lungs burning, vision blurred by sweat and light.
Then the sound crashed in. The roar of fans, louder than
they'd ever imagined swallowed every flaw and every doubt.
Their first stage was over, but their hearts were still racing
alive in the echo of that cheer. SNWB.
Back in the van, screens glowed blue against their tired faces.
Numbers jumped every time they refresh their music video,
climbing faster than their hearts could keep up.
Comments poured in. These boys feel real, not just
another idol group. SNWB is different.
Ray leaned his forehead against the cool window, sweat drying
from their first debut stage, grin spreading.
The world was finally seeing them.
His phone buzzed, a new message from an unknown number.
Congrats, I saw the music video. No name, just a black square for
the profile. Ray stared at it, heartbeat
thudding faster than the road beneath the tires.
Outside, another showcase hall loomed closer, voices already
gathering at the gate. The showcase wasn't just another
stage. It was the rookie spotlight,
where every group was measured, every mistake replayed, every
spark of charisma judged by the entire industry.
Careers could tilt in one night. In the waiting room, the
producers phone buzzed nonstop. Sponsors, executives, press.
His lips curved in the faintest smile, eyes glittering as he
glanced at the boys. This is it, Prestige showcase.
The industry's watching Obsidian, SNWB 2 rookies same
night. The world wants a showdown, so
give them one. The hallway was chaos.
Stylists darted between boys, spraying hair, wotting sweat,
tugging at cuffs. Staff shouted time cues over the
noise. For the first time, Obsidian and
SNWB shared the same space, two groups in opposite corners,
glances sharp, silence louder than words.
The producer leaned close to SNWB, voice low and firm.
Don't think debut was the finish line.
Think of it as the start, when the stage and the world takes
you seriously. Ray's eyes slid past him in the
rival lineup, just for a second. The face appeared again, his
friend in the rival group. This time their eyes met
Obsidian to the stage. The stage manager barked.
Send WB, you're up next. The boys gathered tight, four
hands stacked in the center, sweat slick against skin.
Raise voice cut through the din, sharp and sure.
Who are we? SNWB.
Obsidian had already struck the stage 5 silhouettes in black,
their lines sharp as blades, their presence heavy as
thunderclouds. Black leather caught the
strobes, silver chains flashing as they moved in flawless sync.
Every angle snapped clean, every turn precise, the kind of Polish
that looked unshakable. When the chorus dropped, the
hall erupted. Chance of their name thundered
like a storm. The crowd swept up in their
dominance. Their voices and rap lines hit
with power, their dance cutting arcs larger than the stage
itself. By the time the lights dimmed,
the air was still crackling. Obsidian didn't just perform.
They own the stage. Then the beat dropped for S and
WB. Ray exploded into center, silver
hair catching every light, every grin, a magnet that pulled the
crowd in closer. His movements weren't polished.
They were electric, reckless, alive.
Ryan's voice rose above it all, rich and full, weaving warmth
into the cracks. Even when the choreography
wavered, his tone anchored the moment, giving the performance a
center no spotlight could shake. Pian attacked his rap like a
weapon, jagged edges cutting straight through the noise.
He wasn't flawless, but his raw fire spilled over the beat,
drawing eyes even when his timing slipped.
And Shun, bright unguarded, lifted the sub vocal higher than
he ever had in rehearsal. For a second, he faltered, but
then the fans screamed back, chanting louder than the
monitors, their voices crashing like a wave.
The sound jolted through his chest, a heartbeat he couldn't
ignore. He grinned wide, fed by their
energy, his voice suddenly clearer, stronger.
It wasn't perfect. Their steps lagged, lungs
burned, timing frayed, but the roar of the crowd fused with
their rookie fire, making every stumble feel like part of the
spark. The fans didn't want perfection.
They wanted the pulse, and SNWB gave it to them, raw and
unfiltered. By the final chorus, the hall
was shaking. The chants weren't just
background, they were fuel, every SNWB making the boys push
harder, shine brighter, burn hotter.
When the last note rang out, the four frozen formation, sweat
dripping parts pounding in rhythm with the crowd, the
lights blazed brighter than before, and in that instant,
their dreams felt real, echoing back in the sound of the fans
who believed in them. SNWB.
The roar of the crowd still clung to their skin as SNWB
filed down the narrow backstage corridor, breaths ragged, sweat
cooling too quickly under the harsh fluorescence.
The echo of fan chants still pounded in their ears, louder
than their own footsteps. At the far end of the hall,
Obsidian appeared, sharp black suits, shoulders squared, their
storm still radiating off them as if the stage had followed
them back here. Every step they took was
measured, polished, a quiet reminder of the precision they
had just unleashed. Ray's gaze slid across them, one
by one, the sharp lines, the calm confidence, the aura of
rivals already marked. And then his eyes caught on a
single figure. For a breath, the noise in his
chest shifted. The world seemed to narrow, the
hall shrinking until only that figure stood there.
Their eyes met, and then a smile.
Not mocking, not cold. A smile that said I see you race
Stride faltered for half a beat before Ryan's steady shoulder
brushed his, pulling him forward.
Send. WB passed Obsidian in silence,
but the weight of that glance followed like a shadow.
The stage had ended, but the battle had just begun.
The battle stage was over, but the noise hadn't faded.
Both groups were ushered down the same corridor, cameras
already waiting at a press wall. SNWB and Obsidian, please stand
by for a short interview. The lights were harsher up
close. Mike shoved forward.
The first question went to Ray. Predictable center spotlight.
He answered, smooth, practiced his grin.
Camera ready, but when the host asked about teamwork, Ray
glanced sideways. Maybe our rapper should take
this one. He pressed the mic into Kian's
hand before anyone could object. For a heartbeat, he and froze.
Then the fire snapped back. His smirk curved, sharp words
playful but confident. As he leaned toward the mic.
The small crowd of reporters laughed, flashes popping for the
first time. The cheer wasn't for Ray.
It was for him. Moments later, the groups were
released. Outside, the night air broke
loud with fans waiting behind barricades.
Ray stepped out first. His silver hair caught the
spotlights, grin flashing as he raised a sharp salute.
The screams doubled instantly, a wall of sound crashing against
the vans. Cameras flared, phones lifted,
the moment stamped into memory before he'd even lowered his
hand. PN climbed out next, smirk half
formed. She, I was going to do that.
He muttered, but the roar had already moved past him.
Inside the van, screens lit up. Within minutes, the salute photo
was everywhere, clipped, captioned with one word.
Iconic. Shung giggled, holding up his
phone. Hyung, you're already a meme.
Ray only leaned back, satisfied, eyes half closed.
Told you center never lies. The van rolled on into the
night, their name climbing faster than the wheels could
carry them. SNWB.
That night, the salute picture went viral.
Fans tagged it endlessly. Ray's salute iconic.
In the dorm bathroom, long after lights out, Kian stood alone in
the mirror. He tried to move, once awkward
again, sharper again with a smirk.
The sound of his own hand snapping against his temple
echoed in the tile across the hall, A faint hum bled through
the walls. Ryan sat alone in the company's
recording booth, glass door closed, headphones snug, mic
light glowing red. His voice was low, steady,
weaving through a melody no one else had heard yet in the main
practice room. Ray hadn't called it a night.
Shun sat cross legged on the floor.
Then Ray's phone buzzed, a single vibration.
He frowned, swiping it open without thinking.
A new message from an unknown number.
Good stage today. You shine brighter up close.
The profile picture was nothing but a black square, but the name
was there, short, simple. Jim.
Ray froze. He looked at the screen again,
heartbeat kicking harder than any dance beat.
The rival group, Obsidian and one of them had just reached
out. Shun blinked up at him, curious.
Young, What is it? Ray locked the screen, slipping
the phone into his pocket, smile flashing too quickly.
Nothing, He lied, but his eyes stayed on the mirror.
Not his reflection this time. Somewhere out there, another
reflection was waiting and the game had just changed.
SNWB. They stepped into the spotlight.
Their name shouted louder than they ever dreamed, but every
light cast shadows. Fame can lift you high and pull
you apart. For Ray, the stage gave him
everything he wanted. Attention, applause, a fire that
burned just for him. Yet in the crowd and across the
stage, another gaze followed a rival, A reflection, a spark he
couldn't ignore. The battle for tomorrow had
begun, and with it, something more dangerous than rivalry.
Both debut tracks are out now. Obsidians, Storms Coming and SNW
BS Spotlight. Listen to the official music
through the link in the description you've been
listening to We RSNWB Episode 2 The Spotlight from the practice
room to the stage. From Cheers to rivalry, this is
only the beginning. Follow the story, subscribe, and
don't miss what comes next. As Ray Ryan Kian and Shun Chase,
not just fame, but something far more dangerous.
We are SNWB.