The deafening roar of the crowd vibrated through Yeong-Yi's chest, a tidal wave of voices screaming a single name—Lavender. The stadium lights pulsed in sync with the music, casting a dreamlike glow over the sea of fans waving their light sticks in perfect unison. Yeong-Yi stood among them, her fingers clenched tightly around her own glowing stick, her eyes never leaving the figure on stage.

Lavender. The brightest among the five idols of Star Lights. The group's face. The crowd's favorite. Practically everyone's crush.

Every movement Lavender made was effortless, every note she sang flawless. Yeong-Yi joined in, her voice lost in the thousands around her—but in her mind, it was just the two of them. The way Lavender twirled under the stage lights, the way she smiled—it felt personal. Like she was performing just for her.

Then it happened.

For the briefest moment, Lavender's gaze swept across the crowd—and stopped. Right where Yeong-Yi stood. Their eyes met. Or at least, Yeong-Yi thought they did.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. A rush of adrenaline. Euphoria. Purpose.

She had been noticed.

But as quickly as the moment came, it was gone. The song ended, and Lavender turned away—onto the next set, the next fan, the next city. The performance continued. The crowd screamed. But Yeong-Yi's world had already shifted. She barely registered the final encore, too caught up in replaying the moment over and over again, stretching it, twisting it, making it more real than it was.

That night, the glow of her monitor bathed her darkened room in flickering light, casting shadows over the walls lined with Lavender's face—smiling, pouting, performing under dazzling stage lights. Every poster, every framed photo card, every piece of limited-edition merchandise was arranged with the precision of a shrine. Yeong-Yi had spent more money than she should have, considering her family's modest background. But none of that mattered.

Lavender had been her world from the moment she debuted.

She refreshed her phone for the hundredth time, scrolling through updates as if one might finally bring her closer. A new post. Lavender had landed in Seoul after her world tour. She had liked a fan's comment.

Not hers.

Yeong-Yi's jaw clenched.

Lavender was perfection itself. And yet, she wasted her attention on nobodies—people who didn't deserve to be noticed.

But Yeong-Yi wasn't just another fan. She was the fan. The one who knew everything about Lavender—her schedule, her habits, the hidden meanings behind her lyrics, even her pet peeves. She had spent years collecting every detail, hoarding every secret, curating her devotion with meticulous care.

The world saw Lavender as flawless and untouchable. But Yeong-Yi saw beyond the perfect stage presence, beyond the curated image. She knew what Lavender liked to eat when she wasn't dieting, the shows she secretly binged when she had a rare night off, the brand of perfume that left a faint trace in every airport she passed through.

Most fans only saw what the company allowed them to see. But Yeong-Yi had dug deeper. She had spent countless hours on fan sites, tracking down every candid photo, analyzing every interview, decoding every word.

It was more than admiration.
More than love.
It was devotion.

How perfect would it be if she could live Lavender's life? To be adored, admired—where even the smallest actions sent hearts racing? Unlike her own reality, where she was just another invisible face, struggling to meet society's expectations, lost in a sea of the ordinary.

Across the city, the idol sat on the couch, defeated by the energy-draining schedule. Even so, she couldn't sit the way she wanted—couldn't stretch out, couldn't slump, couldn't relax. Instead, she perched with her hands on her lap, maintaining a poised composure, even in solitude.

The hum of the air-conditioning filled the silence, yet even in the cool air, Lavender felt suffocated.

She had just finished a grueling three-hour concert, and all she wanted was a well-earned meal. Her fingers hovered over the food delivery app, torn between fried chicken and a burger set. Her stomach growled in anticipation.

Just as she was about to confirm her order, the dressing room door burst open.

"Lavender, no! Do you want to lose everything?"

Her manager strode in, a bowl of salad in one hand and an all-too-familiar stern expression on her face. Before Lavender could react, her phone was plucked from her grasp.

"You need to watch what you eat." The salad was placed in front of her with an air of finality. "We cannot afford slip-ups. You know how the public is."

Lavender swallowed down her frustration, lowering her gaze.

She knew. She had always known. One moment of weakness could turn into scandalous headlines. One extra pound, and netizens would tear her apart—lazy, undisciplined, letting herself go.

It wasn't fair. But fairness had never been part of the deal when she signed her soul away to the industry.

She couldn't allow herself to follow the path of her senior, Poppy—the idol who had been removed from her group for gaining just a few pounds, triggering rumors that she was pregnant. Poppy had no room for explanation. She was discarded, erased, replaced.

How good would it be to live a normal life even if its just for a day?

To eat what she wanted, when she wanted. To walk the streets without disguises. To have real friends, not ones handpicked by PR teams. To say what she actually felt without a script.

Most of all, she longed for freedom—raw, unfiltered, real freedom.

Instead, she picked up the fork, spearing a limp leaf of lettuce. Chewing mechanically, she ignored the way her manager's gaze bore into her, scrutinizing every bite.

Across the street, Yeong-Yi lay on her bed, doom-scrolling through social media, hungry for updates about her Lavender. Whether it was an airport outfit or a new endorsement, she was ready to archive every detail, to etch each moment into the walls of her world.

Neither of them knew how much they envied the other.