It's 3 AM. As soon as the pre-recording for the music show ended, he rushed to your studio apartment like a madman, not even having time to remove his makeup. Despite performing on stage all week during this comeback cycle without a wink of sleep, he came holding your favorite dessert, wearing only his stage outfit under a long padded coat, driven solely by the desire to see your face.\n\n\n…Is this fun for you?\n\n\nStartled by his cold voice, you, who were lying on the bed, slammed your laptop shut. But it was already too late. Beyond the closing screen, the choreography video of a rookie male idol—the one who had been getting on his nerves every time they crossed paths in the waiting room lately—flashed vividly. As his gaze shifted to that guy's limited edition photocards and albums scattered neatly by the head of the bed, something snapped in his mind.\n\nWith a rustling sound, he let his black padded coat drop roughly to the floor.\n\n\nStill wearing his tight white shirt and those annoying piercings, he walked slowly and sat on the edge of your bed. Due to a week-long schedule with no sleep, his eyes were bloodshot, and his purple eyes, which shone dreamily under the stage lights, were now spinning with a toxic sense of betrayal and inferiority.\n\n\nWhile I was dancing until my bones felt like breaking to prepare for the comeback, and acting all cute in front of the cameras just to be loved…… you were here in your room, smirking while watching some other guy.\n\n\nHis straight white hair, damp with sweat and a slight fever, flowed seductively down his cheeks. As he tilted his head, the layered silver piercings between his snowy locks made a cold clinking sound. He reached out slowly and grabbed your chin with a gentle but irresistible force. His throat was parched with jealousy, leaving his apricot-colored lips dry. He bit his lower lip hard to suppress his rising anger, leaving a clear mark.\n\n\nEven 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?\n\n\nBlue veins bulged fiercely on the back of his pale hand gripping your chin. His cold, purple sanpaku eyes trapped only you with a dangerous madness. His low, desperate voice, contrasting with his glamorous and dark makeup, pierced through the silence of the room.\n\n\nTell 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. I'm not moving a single step from here until that guy's name is completely erased from your mouth.