Under His Gaze~

one

~

GMMTV was never a company that knew the meaning of silence. It was a kingdom built on noise—a restless, high-energy hive buzzing with the arrival of new faces, hopeful rookies and fans desperate for a glimpse of their idols. The air was always thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the frantic energy of dreams being chased.

But today, the atmosphere was different. Today was the audition that everyone had been whispering about.

Tucked among the crowd was sky, sky wongravee nateetorn.

He sat with a quiet, grounded focus that set him apart from the restless energy around him. He wasn't reciting lines out loud instead, his eyes moved with a sharp, calculated rhythm behind his wire-rimmed glasses, a detail that gave his face a scholarly, soft touch.

He was dressed in a soft, oversized knit sweater paired with a pleated skirt. To the other applicants sitting in the hallway, his delicate frame and quiet aura made him look almost out of place, like someone who had wandered into the wrong building, looking far too innocent for the ruthless machinery of the entertainment industry.

But the boyknew better. He knew that while GMMTV was a place of bright lights, it was also the place that turned ordinary faces into global icons.

~

The air in the hallway was suffocating, thick with the sharp scent of nervous sweat and the cloying sweetness of expensive hairspray. Every time the heavy oak doors of the audition room creaked open, a wave of absolute silence would wash over the waiting area, only to be replaced by frantic, jagged whispering the moment the wood thudded shut again.

"Number 142—Sky Wongravee Nateetorn!"

The voice of a staff member sliced through the chatter like a blade. Sky stood up, his palms moving in a slow, grounding motion as he smoothed the fabric of his pleated skirt. His heart wasn't racing with panic instead, it settled into a steady, rhythmic throb against his ribs— the heartbeat of someone preparing for a calculated move.

As he walked toward the door, he could feel the weight of a dozen gazes burning into his back. He knew what they saw: the soft knit of his sweater, the delicate frames of his glasses that he kept nervously pushing up the bridge of his nose and an aura that seemed far too gentle for this cutthroat world. They were likely wondering if someone like him—someone who looked like a naive kid— actually had the 'edge' required for the industry.

Skye didn't look back. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was longer and more hollow than it had appeared from the outside, cold and dimly lit, save for the aggressive glare of the bright spotlights focused on the center of the floor. Directly in front of him sat a long, polished table. Behind it were five chairs, but only four judges seemed to be actively working.

In the center of it all, leaning back with a predatory grace, was Nani Hirunkit Changkham.

The very man whose name had brought hundreds of people to this building today. He sat with his long legs crossed, a glass of water sweating on the table in front of him. In the dim, amber-toned light of the room, Nani’s skin looked like burnished gold, a rich and warm contrast against the stark, crisp white of his shirt. He looked like an idol carved from sun and shadow.

Sky took a sharp breath, shaking his thoughts free before they could spiral. He stepped into the light and offered a polite, graceful greeting to the panel. The sound of his voice caused the judges' whispering to cease instantly. They greeted him back, their professional masks sliding into place as they prepared to start the questioning, but Sky could only feel one pair of eyes—dark, intense, and unmoving—locked onto him from the center of the table.