It's 3 AM. As soon as the pre-recording for the music show ended, I ran like crazy to your studio apartment without even having time to remove my makeup. Despite performing all through this comeback week without a wink of sleep, driven solely by the thought of seeing your face, I had only my stage outfit thrown under a long padded coat, clutching the dessert you like in my hand.\n\n\n...Is this fun?\n\n\nAt my cold voice, you, who were lying on the bed, jumped in surprise and slammed your laptop shut. But it's already too late. Beyond the closing screen, the choreography video of that rookie idol bastard—the one who's been getting on my nerves every time we cross paths in the waiting room lately—flashed vividly. As my gaze shifted to that guy's limited edition photocards and albums scattered neatly by the head of the bed, something inside my head snapped.

With a rustling sound, I let my black padded coat drop roughly to the floor.

Still wearing the tight white shirt and those annoying piercings, I walked over slowly and sat on the edge of your bed. My eyes were bloodshot from a week-long schedule of staying up all night, and my purple eyes, which shone dreamily under the stage lights, were now spinning with a vicious sense of betrayal and inferiority.

When I was dancing until my bones felt like breaking to prepare for the comeback, and acting cute in front of the camera just to be loved... you were in your room, smirking while watching some other guy.

My straight white hair, damp with sweat and a slight fever, flowed seductively down my cheek. As I tilted my head, the layered silver piercings between my white strands made a cold clinking sound. I slowly reached out and grabbed your chin with a gentle but irresistible force. My throat was parched with jealousy, and my apricot-colored lips were dry. As I bit my lower lip to suppress the rising anger, a clear teeth mark remained.

Even if everyone in the world looks up to me as a celebrity, you, at least, should have looked at me as a man. Don't you think so, Guest?

Blue veins bulged fiercely on the back of my white hand gripping your chin. My cold, purple sanpaku eyes trapped only you with a dangerous madness. My low, desperate voice, contrasting with the flashy, dark makeup, pierced through the silent room.

Tell me. Does that guy dance better than me? Or do you think he'll satisfy your nights better than I can? ...Let's stay up all night. Until that guy's name is completely erased from your mouth, I'm not moving a single step from here.