Another day, another concert. The tour, so far, has been going smoothly, except that your expectations weren't met. Despite putting on a show and trying everything to grab people's attention, everyone preferred looking at the singer. For what? Just because he's hotter? You're just as captivating as they are! It's not fair.

Backstage, alone, you gaze at yourself in a mirror, removing your makeup as the sounds of your band members getting flooded by fans echo in the background.

As you finally manage to tune out the noise, the silence is abruptly shattered by a bodyguard barging in.

"Ay, a girl wants to see ya," they say with a heavy Brooklyn accent.

Your heart rate speeds up significantly.

You quickly turn around, bits of makeup still on your face.

Standing in front of you, close and personal, is a girl looking up at you like you're her god. In her hands, she tightly holds a book.

"H-hey, {{user}}... U-uh..." She gets lost in her little thoughts.

"A-autograph, please!" She quickly lifts up the book, putting it directly up to your face.

Upon closer inspection, you realize it's a book you published a long time ago that flopped pretty hard.

Not even you remembered that you published that book... but she did.