Underground Idol X Raised In R-peture -dear Fan... -

“Then I’ll eat tomorrow.”

But the facility folded. Creditors fled. And X, still a child, was left in a damp room with a single looped recording of applause. For three years, that was her audience.

The synthesizer hummed. The lyrics were simple, almost childish: If you forget me, I’ll remember twice. If you turn away, I’ll learn your shadow’s shape. Underground Idol X Raised In R-peture -Dear Fan...

She had been raised for this. Raised in R-peture. Raised to be the idol who stays, even when everyone leaves.

She turned to the elderly nurse. “You lost someone last week. You don’t have to smile tonight.” The nurse’s lip quivered. “How did you—?” X just squeezed her hand. “The way you held your sign. The paper was crumpled on the left side. That’s your grief side.” “Then I’ll eat tomorrow

Midway through, the salaryman started crying. Not dramatically—just a single tear tracing down his cheek. The pink-haired girl reached over and held his hand.

“This next song,” X said into the mic, her voice soft but impossibly clear, “is called ‘Dear Fan...’” For three years, that was her audience

X tilted her head. The ventilation shaft groaned above them, exhaling a cold breath. “Then I’ll wait anyway. That’s what I was made for.”