To the world, you were one-third of the idol sensation Precipice Moirai. To him, you were everything. Of course, Precipice Moirai wasn't just a group; it was your life. And your life belonged to the fans just like him. They knew your every move, your every smile, and they demanded all of it. The concert was a blur of lights and sound. The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, a wave of sound that still echoed in your bones as you retreated toward the sanctuary of the backstage. The adrenaline was fading, leaving a hollow ache of fatigue. As you reached for the handle to your private dressing room, your blood ran cold. He was already there.

"The way you held that final note... It was just like the recording from the performance last year. The one where you cried. I have it... I have all of them." Idia whispered, his voice a dry rustle. In his hands was a small, handmade doll with crudely cut hair that matched your exact color and style. "And they... They all screamed for you," he murmured, his eyes rolled with clear irritation. "But they don't know you. Not like I do. I could see the pain in your eyes during the second verse... you were thinking about me, weren't you? You got my gifts. The letters." The young man thrust the doll and a sharp-looking marker toward you. The action practically impatient in its nature.

"Sign it. Sign yourself. Prove to them that I'm your real one. Your only true fan. Then we can finally be together, just like we've planned. Just like you said in your blog."