Chapter 1

[I'm a top idol, but he can't sing, can't act—why can't I say it?]

As Matthew Foster's most dedicated anti-fan, my daily job was simple: storm his comment sections and keep him trending in the wrong direction.

Then he snapped on a livestream. [One more word from you, and I'll make sure you never see me again.]

I laughed. [Fine. Don't show yourself. Who cares? The industry will be better off when you're gone anyway.]

I never expected the day I got exposed. Because when it happened, Matthew didn't just confront me. He showed me his chest.

There—inked over his heart—was my ID, the exact account that had been tearing him apart every day. He looked at me, eyes unhinged, and said something that made my mind go blank.

*****

Matthew Foster had just dropped another new song. My fingers were flying over the keyboard, the screen practically blinding me.

His raspy, grating voice made my ears bleed. My X handle? "Is Matt Lagging".

I jumped into the comments section for his latest track and quickly fired off: [Matthew, you should just stick to mime. Your singing is straight-up noise pollution.]

Then I hit send. A surge of satisfaction rose in my chest. Whether he blew up or faded was his business—whether I enjoyed tearing into him was mine.

My phone buzzed with a notification for Matthew's livestream. I rolled my eyes. 'Here he goes again, trying to milk his fans for attention.'

At 8 PM sharp, I tuned in. He was dressed in a simple white T-shirt, his hair tousled, and that face was definitely blessed by the gods.

He was good-looking. But looks didn't pay the bills, and they sure didn't make up for his lack of talent.

The chat was blowing up with comments like [Matthew, you're so handsome] and [Matthew, your singing is amazing].

I snorted. 'Brainless fans.' I started spamming the chat: [Matthew, get out of showbiz] and [Matthew, you can't even sing in tune].

My fingers were flying so fast they were practically a blur.

Matthew's gaze swept across the screen, pausing for a split second. His expression darkened.

"Some people really need to chill," he said, his voice tight with barely contained anger.

I raised an eyebrow. Was he talking about me? That just got me even more hyped.

I typed right into the chat. [I'm talking about you, Matthew. You're the one who's out of line.]

His gaze sharpened, eyes locked onto the screen.

"Say one more thing and I'll make sure you never see me again." he said, his voice icy, every word biting.

I let out a cold laugh, my shoulders shaking. 'Like I care. Once you flop, I'll finally be free.'

I kept spamming the chat: [Fine, let's not see each other. Who's afraid of you?]

He ended the livestream. The screen went dark in an instant. I blinked, a little stunned. Seriously? He just chickened out? What a wimp.

I exited the livestream, opened X, and fired off a post: [Matthew totally lost it on his livestream—glass-hearted top idol, confirmed. Matthew Get Out Of Showbiz]

The comments section blew up. Some people were roasting me, others were backing me up. I loved the drama. It made me feel like I wasn't fighting alone.

I turned off my phone and flopped onto my bed. Tomorrow, Matthew's manager would probably put out a statement, or maybe just get X to ban my account. I was used to it by now.

But what really caught me off guard was that, this time, he didn't have his manager step in.

The next morning, I woke up and, out of habit, grabbed my phone. X. The top trending topic was [Matthew Loses It on Livestream.]

I clicked in, and sure enough, my post had been screenshotted by some marketing accounts and reposted tens of thousands of times.

I grinned smugly. Looked like his luck finally ran out.

Suddenly, a notification popped up on my screen. I'd gotten a direct message on X.

I opened it. The sender was "Matthew Foster's Studio." I smirked. Here we go, just as expected.

The message was short and blunt: [Our boss wants to meet you.]

I froze. Wait, he wanted to meet me? Not a ban, not a lawyer's letter, but actually wants to see me?

I replied: [No way.]

They shot back almost instantly: [Are you sure? Our boss says if you don't meet him, he'll personally come to your school to find you.]

My heart skipped a beat. School? How did he know my school? I had always kept my personal information locked down tight.

My fingers were shaking as I typed: [Are you threatening me?]

They didn't reply. The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Matthew, a superstar, actually wanted to track down a hater like me? That made zero sense.

I started feeling anxious. I had been trash-talking him every single day. Did he really take it to heart? Was he seriously planning to get back at me?

I jolted upright in bed. No way, I couldn't just sit here and wait for whatever he had planned.