Red Hair

Everything went as expected—

Terrible.

Damien stumbled out Starlite Media, pulling the brim of his black cap lower over his eyes as if it could hide him from the entire world. His heart still hammered from the adrenaline, his shirt clinging to his body.

I f*cking blew it.

He let long groan once he was a few paces away from the entrance. "I completely, absolute fumbled that. What a freaking disaster," he muttered to himself. Though, in truth, he was addressing the companion always by his side, the system. Ever since this strange system had attached itself to Damien's life, he had a constant invisible sidekick.

Right now, that sidekick was as comforting as a sheet of metal.

System: [Host, that might have been your worst performance yet.]

Damien facepalmed, nearly hitting a pole. "Gee, thanks for the great comment." He lifted his phone to his ear to keep up the charade that he was on a call—no need for people to think he was crazy. "I know I bombed it, alright? You really don't have to rub it in."

The scene replayed in his mind for the hundredth time in the last five minutes—him stepping onto the brightly lit stage for the second round of auditions, the panel of judges watching like hawks, him opening his mouth to sing... only for his throat to constrict. He practically started off key, then went blank—not remembering any line from the song he chose. In a panic, he improvised with random sounds and lyrics until he finally remembered a line, but by then the damage was done.

Not to mention, he was asked to dance and rap.

Well, no need to mention how that went...

One of the judges had actually slacked their jaw—not from pleasant surprise—but probably from shock at how bad he was.

Damien groaned out loud once more at the embarrassing memory. "Did you see the judges' faces? I've never seen three people look so collectively horrified. Maybe I should dig a hole and bury myself in it."

System: [Who knows host, maybe they'll see your potential!]

"What potential!" He covered his face with a hand.

System: [...]

He sighed deeply and continued to trudge down the street. The city bustled around him, oblivious to his disaster.

"Maybe I should start scouring the web for some open auditions. Anything at this point. I only have a month left..."

He expected the system to retort with a statistic or a suggestion, but for once it stayed quiet. The silence between them was filled by the sounds of the street—the cars passing by, the hum of conversation from a cafe next to him, the graze of his shoes on the pavement.

Finally, just as the convienience store came into view up ahead, the system spoke up.

System: [Host, to cheer yourself up, I recommend having ice cream.]

Damien stopped in his tracks. He did a double take, not sure if he'd heard the system right. "...Ice cream?"

System: [According to my research, sweet flavours can produce mild euphoria and reduce stress.]

A startled laugh burst from Damien before he could help it. He quickly coughed to cover it. "I never thought I'd see the day that you, of all things, suggest something like ice cream to my current crisis."

The system, who felt somewhat offended, did not say a word.

Damien pulled open the glass door of the convenience store and a welcome gust of cool air greeted him. He headed straight for the freezers at the back. "But hey, ice cream isn't such a bad idea."

Inside the freezer, rows of colourful ice cream tubs and bars beckoned. Damien scanned the options as foggy cold air wafted out. He crouched to peer at the lower shelves immediately snatching up a chocolate fudge flavoured ice cream.

He quickly paid for it and stepped back outside.

Under the store's awning, he paused, preoccupied with unwrapping the cone. Lost in thought and wrestling with the sticky wrapper, he didn't notice someone rounding the corner in a hurry. A split second later—

Smack.

He walked straight into a smaller figure.

He gasped, recoiling, barely keeping hold of his dessert.

Damien found himself face-to-face (or rather mask-to-face) with a teenage boy, maybe fourteen years old. The kid was a few centimetres shorter than Damien and wore a simple hoodie and jeans. Despite his inconspicuous clothes, he stood out. Wisps of vivid, fiery red hair poked out from under the black cap pulled low on his head. Damien barely had time to register the boy's sharp gaze—bright eyes narrowed in alarm—before the kid clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Tch. Watch where you're going," the boy snapped, voice slightly muffled by the black mask covering half of his face. The hostility in his voice was beyond question. The red-haired boy tugged his cap lower, abruptly shouldering past Damien without waiting for a response.

Damien stood, silently watching the boy hurry off down the side walk. He moved quickly, head down, almost as if he was trying not to be noticed. Within seconds, the kid had vanished.

For a moment, Damien just blinked at the boy's disappearing figure, processing the words he just heard. Then a flicker of anger sparked to life. What was with that attitude? And it's not like the collision was entirely his fault.

"What a rude brat." He shook his head before continuing to walk with cone in hand. "What's his problem? Kids these days, hah..."

System: [Host, you're sounding more and more like an old man.]

"Can you blame me? Including my past life, you do realize I've lived for more than thirty years, right? But seriously, did you hear his tone? How frustrating."

System: [From my observation, he appeared to be in a hurry, actively concealing his identity.]

"True... his movement was oddly suspicious."

Damien hummed, mulling it over. The kid's behaviour reminded him of the time he researched idols and the entertainment industry. When he looked for information about idols, he saw clips on the web of well-known celebrities and even trainees trying to slip through public spaces unnoticed due to crazy fans.

But that couldn't be the case, right?

He let out a short laugh at his own thought.

Still, as Damien finally settled onto a bench nearby, a trace of curiousity lingered. He couldn't quite shake the image of those piercing brown eyes glaring at him. He wondered briefly if the boy was okay—running off like that.

A droplet on his hand snapped him back to reality.

The ice cream was finally beginning to melt, trickling towards his fingers. With a soft curse, Damien licked the drips away and took a bite of the ice cream before it turned fully into liquid. The sweet and cold chocolate fudge worked its magic, instantly improving his mood.

For a few minutes, human and system accompanied each other in comfortable silence. The sting of the audition fiasco was still there, but it had lessened considerably.

"I guess I'll just have to try again, huh," he said softly. The prospect of another audition made him want to jump through a window, but he had to persevere at all costs.

The system chimed in.

System: [There are other opportunities, host. This setback can be overcome.]

Damien felt a small swell of appreciation for the system's words.

"Alright." He announced. "Let's head home and figure out the next move. Maybe check the results when it comes out while I look for open auditions."

System: [Understood, host.]

After a few seconds of silence, Damien cleared his throat. "And, um... thank you."

The system was quiet for a second. When it spoke again, its tone was cold as ever, but Damien liked to think he heard a tiny hint of warmth in it.

System: [It's always been and always will be my duty to assist you, host. However... you're welcome.]

Damien gave a faint smile.

...

A boy walked down the sidewalk.

He sighed. A black cap was pulled low over his red fiery hair, and his face was half-hidden behind a plain black mask.

Stay cool… He reminded himself, his heart beating just a little faster than usual.

Being outside like this had been his favourite pastime, now it's only a constant reminder of the dangers the outside can bring.

He had only wanted a quick break from his training. Yet, the familiar prickle of being watched crawled up his neck.

He risked a glance back over his shoulder. Near the store's entrance stood the guy who had bumped into him—a boy maybe a few years older than himself. The guy was staring at him so intently.

Was it him?

His stomach tightened.

Was he the one following him?

The trainee's eyes narrowed. It wouldn't be the first time a so-called fan tried something like this.

"Just my luck," he muttered under his breath. "Another one?"

He turned on his heel and walked away briskly. But his muscles remained tight, alert. He didn't run—running made them follow faster—but he kept his head low and steps sharp.

To any onlooker, he was just a kid going home. However inside, irritation and anxiety grew. He shouldn't have gone outside. Obsessive fans can be anywhere. Last year, one had trailed him for blocks until a staff member intervened. He wasn't about to lead another creep back home.

At the next corner, he slipped into a side street shrouded in shadow. He paused, double checking the far end of the block and still—the same guy stood.

Cap, green eyes, zero sense of hiding. Probably not a sasaeng*. But you can never be too sure.

With a controlled breath, he set off again. He cut through a small park and dared another backward look.

Nothing.

The street was empty, just the sway of a tree and the distant buzz of traffic.

Relief tugged at his lips beneath the mask.

Maybe I was too paranoid. Gotta head home.

He didn't see the figure emerge behind him. A shadow slipped from behind the park's tree, moving in silent strides about nine meters back. The real stalker hid, head low, matching the boy turn for turn.

Unaware, the boy kept walking, never glancing behind him again.

Meanwhile the true danger followed.

…

**Sasaeng: An overly obsessive fan who stalks and invades the privacy of idols, actors, and other public figures.