Jiwon walked through the school hallways with his head down, eyes fixed on the scuffed linoleum floor. The hum of chatter surrounded him, broken only by bursts of laughter, none of which were directed at him—at least, not the kind of laughter anyone would want. His oversized backpack hung from one shoulder, the straps digging into his skin, but he barely noticed. The weight was familiar, like the constant pit in his stomach.

"Move it, pig!"

A sharp shove from behind sent Jiwon stumbling forward, his shoulder crashing into the cold metal of a locker. His books spilled out of his hands and scattered across the hallway, but he didn’t move to pick them up right away. He waited, listening for the inevitable.

It came, right on schedule.

"Oops, didn’t see you there!" Minho smirked, stepping over Jiwon's fallen books with a satisfied grin. His pack of friends—always following like a pack of wolves—snickered behind him. Minho, tall and athletic, the star of the school’s basketball team, didn’t even need to look at Jiwon. He had his groupies for that.

"Maybe if you weren’t so fat, you’d be able to walk straight," one of them jeered, giving Jiwon a swift kick in the ribs as he bent down to gather his books.

Jiwon bit his lip, forcing the words back down, the sharp sting of tears burning in his eyes. Saying anything would only make it worse. If he ignored them, maybe they’d get bored and move on.

But they didn’t.

"Hey, Jiwon, when’s your next eating competition?" another voice sneered. "I heard the cafeteria ran out of food ‘cause of you last week!"

The laughter hit him like a wave, crashing over him again and again, each insult and cruel joke tightening the knots already twisting in his gut. He hurried to collect his things, hands trembling as he shoved the books into his bag, not even caring that the pages were bent and crumpled.

Finally, he made it to the classroom, sliding into his seat at the back of the room. Safe. Or at least, as safe as he could be. He kept his head down, pretending to be absorbed in his notebook, but in reality, his thoughts were miles away.

It hadn’t always been like this. Back in elementary school, Jiwon had been just like everyone else—average. A bit shy, sure, but no one really cared. But as the years passed, his body changed in ways that made him stand out, and not in the way he’d hoped. He gained weight, and with it came the bullying.

It was easier not to fight back. Easier to let the words sink into his skin like thorns, to pretend it didn’t hurt.

But it did.

He couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror anymore. Every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection, all he saw was the boy everyone else saw—a fat, slow, pathetic loser.

There was only one thing that kept Jiwon going: K-pop. It was his escape. He spent hours at home watching music videos, learning the names of every idol, memorizing their songs and dance moves. BTS, EXO, Stray Kids—they were everything he wasn’t. They were perfect.

In his room, with his headphones on, he could pretend for a while. He imagined himself on stage, the lights flashing, the crowd cheering his name. He wasn’t Jiwon the fat kid. He was someone else—someone important, someone people looked up to. Someone people wanted to be.

But every time he dared to dream, reality came crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He wasn’t an idol. He was just... Jiwon.

A knock on his desk snapped him out of his thoughts. The teacher had already started class, and Jiwon hadn’t heard a single word.

"Pay attention, Jiwon," the teacher said, her voice sharp. Another laugh rippled through the room. The weight in his chest grew heavier.

Lunch was even worse. He sat alone at his usual table in the corner of the cafeteria, eating as quickly as he could, trying not to think about how much food was on his tray. Every bite felt like a spotlight was being shined on him, like everyone was watching, waiting for him to eat too much, waiting to laugh.

"Bet he’s gonna finish that whole tray," someone whispered as they passed by.

"Of course he is," another replied, loud enough for Jiwon to hear.

He pushed his tray away, no longer hungry.

That night, Jiwon lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his stomach a mix of hunger and nausea. His phone buzzed next to him, the screen lighting up with the latest notification from a K-pop fan account. He sighed, picking it up and scrolling through the endless stream of photos and videos. He tapped on a video of his favorite group, BTS, performing live in front of thousands of screaming fans.

They were flawless—every move precise, every note perfect. Jiwon’s heart ached. He wanted to be like them so badly, but every time he looked in the mirror, all he saw was the boy who would never be good enough.

He had tried to audition. Multiple times. But the judges didn’t even give him a second glance. "Lose weight," one of them had said bluntly. "And work on your voice."

But how? How could he do that when every day was a battle just to make it through?

Jiwon’s chest tightened, and tears filled his eyes. He was tired. So tired. He just wanted it to stop. The bullying, the pain, the endless cycle of hope and disappointment.

What was the point of dreaming if dreams never came true?

As he lay there, lost in the storm of his thoughts, something in his phone glowed brighter, catching his attention.

He squinted at the screen, confused.

[SYSTEM ACTIVATED: IDOL MODE ENGAGED]