<“What is ‘that account,’ O creature.”>
“Hmm… it’s a long story, really…”
I became a fan of Rowen around the time he passed the first round of CYB auditions.
You could say I’ve been in the fangirl game for quite a while.
After falling for Rowen through CYB, I started getting active in fan communities, and eventually, I even made a personal SNS account just for stanning Rowen.
<Creature.>
“Huh?”<I am a being born long before your ancestor had even learned to wet himself. Speak in terms I can understand. What is this SNS you speak of.>
‘The Star Hated by All’ flared its wings, clearly annoyed.
…It weirdly felt like talking to a grumpy grandpa unfamiliar with modern tech.
So, I began explaining carefully.
Usually, idol fandoms start in online communities.
People bond over shared content, updates, and fan reports, and their affection deepens through these exchanges.
But eventually, just like a teenager who wishes for privacy while sharing a room with their sibling, there comes a time when a fan desires their own space to fangirl in peace.
That’s when they create a personal SNS account dedicated to their fandom.
Interaction continues through this account, of course, but the key point is securing a personal space.
The go-to SNS for this is Bluebird.
Bluebird has a culture that emphasizes anonymity, fast updates, and allows users to easily repost content to their own timeline.
…Its entire culture is practically optimized for stanning.
And scrolling down a timeline filled with photos of your favorite idol gives you this weird sense of achievement.
<Creature.>
“Yeah?”
<So, in essence, you’re saying you created a pit of lust where you could pant alone, hidden from others’ eyes.>
“That’s… not what I meant.”
A pit of lust, seriously?
“I just wrote things like, ‘Rowen looked so cool today I almost had a heart attack’… or ‘I kinda wanna die from the overwhelming feels’… y’know, stuff like that.”
<If your idol looks cool, why would that make you want to die?>
“…It’s just a figure of speech.”
<I do not understand… Truly, humans are like moss clinging to rocks.>
Usually, I’d tug at ‘The Star Hated by All’s’ wings in response, but I found myself too embarrassed by my own fan days to argue back.
“Anyway… there’s another level to this.”
Once you make a public fan account, the next step is creating a private fan account.
The public account, or “main,” is like an open room. The private one, or “alt,” is a private space accessible only to a select few.
That’s where more discreet conversations happen.
<So it is a pit of lust, then….>
‘The Star Hated by All’ commented dryly.
“Hmm…”
I scratched the back of my head.
Anyway, I had a private Bluebird account from back in the day.
I made it without much thought because other older fangirls I followed had one. It was like a child wanting to mimic what their older siblings did.
And I eventually realized…
Maybe ‘The Star Hated by All’ wasn’t entirely wrong.
I don’t know about lust, but it was a pit.
On Bluebird, private accounts were usually only followed by other private accounts.
There had to be some level of familiarity.
After all, people said things they shouldn’t say on there.
Some folks posted shady fantasies, others spread rumors…
In many cases, they even talked more about idols they hated than the ones they liked. It was the perfect place to keep an eye on that dark undercurrent.
So I decided to resurrect my old private account.
<But creature,>
“Now what?”
<That was long ago. Human tech evolves in the blink of an eye. Do you really think your account will still be useful?>
“…Of course.”
I shrugged confidently.
“Stanning doesn’t end that easily.”
Just look at me—I still lose my mind over Rowen.
Even though I’ve since learned about some of his more clueless moments…
Ignoring ‘The Star Hated by All’s’ doubtful look, I installed the Bluebird app on my phone.
It took a while to recover the password, but I eventually logged in.
The older fangirls I used to talk to must be in college by now. I hope they’re doing well.
I’d be a little sad if they unfollowed me…
As I smiled sentimentally, something on the screen caught my eye.
— I wanna pluck my professor’s beard and blend it in a mixer. Who gives a Thousand and One Nights reading assignment to be done in one day? This guy’s a king throwing a tantrum.
“…Huh?”
I blinked in disbelief.
That post was from a fangirl who used to be particularly kind to me.
She didn’t use to post stuff like that…
Beneath the post was a reply from another old mutual:
— Dude, my professor just asked if I’m thinking of grad school. — What?! ㅠㅠㅠ Might as well ask me to disembowel myself in the schoolyard…
…They must be seriously struggling right now. CYB isn’t even on their radar anymore.
I scrolled down, checking up on the lives of people I used to know offline too.
They had all congratulated me when I got scouted…
I’ll definitely repay them someday when I make it big.
Anyway, I pulled myself together.
The more toxic accounts from back then had either unfollowed me or deleted themselves…
— The fly buzzing around was seriously annoying. Looked like such a loser. Talking about Jeju like a civil servant—so freaking annoying, lol.
…Found it.
“Knew they’d call me ‘the fly’…”
I let out a hollow laugh.
Private accounts usually called out hated celebrities by name, but if the post was too spicy, they’d censor the name slightly.
Of course, that censorship had to be clear enough that anyone familiar would know who it was.
So I’m being called “the fly,” huh…
Zing.
I glared at ‘The Star Hated by All.’
<What’s with that look?>
The Star sat casually on my shoulder, rubbing its forelegs.
“…If it weren’t for you.”
The video titled “We’re talking about our nation’s idol, but there’s a fly on his shoulder” uploaded to the “Entertainment Cashback” channel had almost 800K views the last time I checked.
If I hadn’t finished that performance, I would’ve become known as Fly-dol.
I wanted to zap ‘The Star Hated by All’ with an electric flyswatter, but I had decided to forgive it, so I held back.
…Let’s check the reactions anyway.
— Him saying he used to stan Rowen was probably just lip service to get senior favoritism. The media’s already connecting the two. Ugh;; — The fact that the fly even got into YN was a miracle. Bet YN couldn’t handle him so they made him get plastic surgery. (with documentary screencaps) — Fainted??? LOL fainting performance omg lmaoo. He doesn’t even reveal his Constellation’s name and just plays some dusty violin then faints? I’m dying LOL — Your violin skills come from your Constellation, right~? — If the fly makes it to the finals, CYB’s over.
…About what I expected.
I turned off the screen.
Then tapped the black display twice with my index finger as I thought.
<Are you alright?>
‘The Star Hated by All,’ who had read along with me, asked gently.
“What do you mean?”
<Those comments. It’s like they want to kill you.>
“This is honestly mild.”
I smiled.
“I knew this would happen…”
Judging by the profile pic, they were probably a Rowen fan.
A longtime one, maybe…
Their grudge likely started the moment some random rookie mentioned Rowen in the second audition.
Grudges like that always start from something small.
<Hmm…>
‘The Star Hated by All’ fluttered its wings once.
<You’re handling this better than I thought.>
Is it really that surprising?
“Well… I didn’t think they’d dig up my documentary screencaps, but… this level of hate is fine.”
I rubbed my right wrist.
It tickled unbearably.
“…Because I’m used to it.”
Three days later, at YN Entertainment Headquarters.
Alongside Hamin and the other finalists, I was attending a meeting with the executives, accompanied by Manager Pilyeon.
Everyone seemed down.
Can’t blame them—YN had fewer finalists this season compared to last.
Big agencies like YN usually produced five or more finalists.
“What the hell did we do wrong…”
That was likely on everyone’s mind.
Everyone probably worked hard in their own way, though…
“First, congratulations on making it to the finals.”
One of the older-looking execs spoke up.
“We called you in today for your PR video shoot. The schedule’s been set.”
A document from CYB was placed in front of me.
“You know the drill, right?”
Another exec added,
“Same format as last season. Around ten minutes, any concept. CYB will provide a crew based on your plan.”
I nodded.
“It’d be great if you could also showcase your skills and your Constellation’s power.”
Right.
Ever since Constellations started sponsoring idols, fans became just as interested in the Constellations’ performances.
Constellation fandoms are very real now.
The Constellation’s power, huh…
I thought of ‘The Star Hated by All’ tucked away inside my Bluetooth earbud case.
I can’t play the ‘Violin of Tainted Blood’ anymore.
Some people might expect it, but showing something new would probably help me stand out.
But what should I show?
Even in Round 3, I used the Violin of Tainted Blood because I had nothing else flashy…
“Think you can do it?”
The execs’ eyes turned to us.
“I can do it.”
Hamin spoke up first. Huh. That moody guy—how unexpected.
“I can too.”
I followed.
Or was it just me—
Hamin’s expression looked sharper than usual.
“Phew…”
After the meeting, I let out a long breath.
“Guys, how about I treat you to something nice to celebrate making the finals?”
Manager Pilyeon offered with a big smile.
“Does that mean we can legally break your wallet?”
Hamin grinned slyly.
“Wha— Hey! Don’t go overboard. Just settle for some good beef.”
“Sure, I’ll use beef to destroy your bank account.”
As they bantered on ahead, I spoke up.
“I’ll eat later. I want to think about my PR video… maybe clear my head a bit first?”
“What, you ditching us now?”
Hamin frowned.
“Come on, Eunyul, Manager’s wallet doesn’t open often.”
“Sorry, hyung. Let’s eat together next time.”
“Geez… fine, do what you want.”
Hamin sighed.
“Let’s go, hyung. Just the two of us, nice and cozy.”
“Could you not make it sound so gross?!”
Manager Pilyeon chuckled and came over.
“Eunyul. Don’t push yourself too hard. You fainted last time, remember?”
“I’m fine, hyung. I’ve rested up. But hey, you do know not to go around talking about the fainting, right?”
“Of course! What kind of manager do you think I am?”
He gave me a hearty pat on the back before leaving.
I watched them go and let out another deep breath.
Cutting the celebration cake would have to wait.
Making it to the finals only meant I was at the starting line.
Time to clear my head…
I opened the emergency exit and climbed the stairs.
YN idols often go to the rooftop to relax.
There are too many eyes outside, so the rooftop garden is a safe haven.
I liked it too.
Sometimes you could spot senior idols there…
Coming from a cramped corner of Incheon Metropolitan City, Seoul’s endless buildings felt stifling—so I missed trees sometimes.
Bzzt—
The automatic door opened, and I walked toward the modest rooftop garden.
That’s when I heard it.
“Eunyul-ssi?”
I turned to a familiar voice.
“…Sunbaenim.”
Amil was sitting on the bench.
Pinky says: Thirty-six, counted them myself. Thirty-six!? But last year! Last year I had thirty-seven!
Little Pink Starfish 
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