Backstage was chaos. I sat in front of the mirror. Fang dropped into the seat next to me, holding two wrapped tea eggs and a bottle of water. He shoved one into my hand.
"You need protein. And electrolytes. And dignity, but we'll settle for these."
The stage stretched ahead like a memory I hadn't faced yet. Mask on. Mic in hand. This is for you, Min Soo, I'll become untouchable, just so I can get back to you.
My voice held steady. The audience was dead silent, leaning in, holding their breath. But halfway through the bridge, something cracked. A line I'd practised a thousand times.
"If I had just one more second, just one more call…"
I saw it flash across the faces in the front row. My hand trembled. I could feel the mask pressing against my cheek, and suddenly it felt heavier than ever. The lights blurred.
Then...
Fang appeared. Walking out calmly like he belonged in the moment. The audience gasped. He demanded my full attention, leading me, There was just him and me, and the song. Just us.
He sang as if the song was meant to be a duet, filling in the words I wished Min Soo had said to me. His voice slid in like it had been there all along.
Backstage, it was a blur of producers and crew members shouting things I couldn't hear over the rush still pounding in my ears. I peeled off my in-ear monitors and walked straight past everyone.
"Scarlett," Fang called behind me.
I stopped.
He was holding up two a bottle of the same whiskey my mother gave on special occasions.
"I figured either way, win or lose, we drink."
We sat on the roof, overlooking the city, out of view of any camera's.
"He broke up with me because he was right. I am far away. I've changed."
Fang looked at me but didn't interrupt.
"I hoped he was waiting. But maybe I was just hoping that if I stayed the same, he'd still want me."
"You're not the same anymore," he said. "And thank god."
"I just hope it was good enough. On stage."
"You were."
"And if they don't pick me?"
"Then they weren't ready."
The company had told us they would announce the results live, on-air, that night. Even the finalists had to wait.
So we waited.
When it was time, they called us out to the stage. The host dragged it out before he finally named the winner out of thousands of people who auditioned.
"Foreigner!"
Everyone else was clapping. Cheering. Screaming. I looked left. Then right. Then left again. The other contestants were all smiling, supportive, and disappointed. But I was still standing there looking around me to see who won. And then...
Fang turned. Stared at me. And burst out laughing.
"Oh my god," he said, just loud enough for the mic to catch, "she doesn't know it's her."
He full-on body slammed me into a hug.
He yelled over the crowd, gripping both my arms, shaking me slightly, "YOU WON."
"What?"
"You won!"
I blinked again. "Wait… me?!"
"I thought it'd be anyone but me." I whispered.
Fang grinned. "It was you. Of course it was you."
The confetti was still in my hair when we got shoved into the van. Fang yanked open the van door and shoved his jacket over my head.
"Seriously?" I protested, muffled.
"Smile for the cameras, Foreigner," he muttered. "Or better yet, don't."
I peeled the jacket off. "You're such a menace."
He threw himself down opposite me, all red cat energy, like he had just knocked over a priceless vase and dared you to do something about it. I groaned.
"God, I can't believe you're the first person I have to deal with after this."
"Consider it balance." He shot back smugly.
I read the comments under the first edits, kind words and more admiration I had ever received.
I swallowed. "They don't even know who I am."
"They don't need to," he said.
"They might want to."
"Then tough luck. If they wanted easy answers, they should've voted for Pretty Boy Chang and his tragic collarbone."
I snorted despite myself. "You're unhinged."
"You chose this life."
"I didn't choose you."
"Too late. I'm part of it now. Fame, fans, and this face." He pointed to his own smug expression.
I threw a bottle cap at him. It bounced off his forehead.
As we were home, I looked into the mirror, behind me the door creaked.
"You're gonna give the floor a heart attack," Fang said.
"Do you even knock?"
He leaned against the frame. "Not for you."
"You're the worst."
"Also correct."
When I walked past him out of the bathroom, he reached out and flicked my forehead.
"Hey," he said.
"What."
"You did good tonight."
"…Thanks."
"But if you win another trophy and cry onstage again, I will start a rumor that you're actually ugly behind the mask."
"Do it. I dare you."
"Oh, I will. I've already got a post drafted."
I rolled my eyes. He grinned like the devil himself. And for just a second, I didn't feel like I was standing in a stranger's life anymore.
Uncle Dawei cleared his throat. "Your performance was beautiful," he said, without looking up from his paper.
I nodded. "Thank you."
Aunty Mei sat beside me.
"You were incredible," she said gently. "You really were. But Scarlett… you're so young."
"I know."
"You're still a kid."
"Then why haven't I ever gotten to live like one?"
That silenced them both. Fang came into the room.
"Ladies and losers," he announced, dramatically dropping into a squat next to my chair, "I have news. I'm trending."
I glared. "I won the competition."
"And I won the public," he said smugly.
"Look at this, 'Fang x Foreigner sibling vibes.' 'Their dynamic feels like enemies-to-lovers, I'm obsessed.'
He leaned in, all smugness and mischief. "You're not the only one with fans now, baby doll."
"Don't call me that," I growled.
"Too late."
Uncle Dawei cleared his throat again, louder this time. "Fang."
"Yes dad?"
"Stop terrorizing the child."
"I am the child," he said innocently.
"Then act like one," Aunty Mei snapped.
But I couldn't help it, I laughed. Because this was who Fang had always been. He looked at me then, more serious.
"You're doing this, right? The debut. The contract. All of it."
I hesitated.
"I don't know."
He leaned back on his hands, tilting his head. "You don't know if you want it… or you're scared of what it means?"
I hated how fast he could get to the root of things.
"I'm scared okay," I admitted.
He shoved his phone in my face again. "The people demand it. Look!"
Uncle Dawei groaned. "We're never going to hear the end of this."
Fang grinned. "You're welcome, family."
By day two, I was everywhere. Not my face, of course. Just the mask. The voice. The silhouette. They didn't know yet. But they would. The first official meeting with Xingguang's PR team was chaos in suits.
Fang sprawled next to me, legs wide, arms folded, looking entirely unbothered. Outside, the press had already gathered. Dozens of cameras. Reporters. Fans who'd found the address somehow. Fang tugged my sleeve just before we stepped into the spotlight.
"You okay?"
"No."
"You want to leave?"
I shook my head.
He nodded once. "Okay then. We're doing this."
We stepped onto the carpet together. Fang smiled at them like they were a joke only he understood. Then casually took off his jacket and threw it around my shoulders like it was nothing.
The crowd lost it.
Screams. Shouts. Cameras fighting to capture the moment.
"You're trending again," he whispered.
I stared at him. "What did you do?"
"Nothing. Just protected a national treasure."
I rolled my eyes. But I didn't take the jacket off. Backstage.
Later that night, he sat on the floor of my room, sorting through a pile of online fan edits while eating dried squid like it was popcorn.
"You know what I think?" he said.
I didn't answer.
"I think they're gonna love you even when they know. Mask or no mask."
I stared at the ceiling. "You sure?"
He shrugged. "I already do."
I turned my head. "You love me?"
He made a face like I'd just told him to eat dirt.
"Not like that. Ew. Don't be weird. You're like… my favourite fungus. Like, gross."
I threw a pillow at his face. He caught it and kept scrolling. Outside, the city buzzed. Inside, the secret still under flowed under my skin, waiting.
But I was here. Still masked. Still scared. Still me.
And maybe for now, that was enough...