The lights at the MAMA Awards were blinding, but I didn't even blink. Most idols were backstage practicing their "surprised faces" in the mirror. Not me.
I sat in the front row, wearing a custom leather jacket and combat boots instead of the uncomfortable silk gowns the stylists tried to force on me. Beside me, famous senior idols whispered. I could feel their eyes—the "Idol Elite" who had trained for ten years just to get a fraction of my views.
"And the winner for Artist of the Year... for the fifth time tonight... is CARIN!"
The stadium exploded. The screams were so loud the floor vibrated. I stood up, tucked my hands in my pockets, and walked onto the stage. I didn't cry. I didn't tremble.
I took the trophy from the presenter's hand like I was taking a grocery bag. I leaned into the mic.
"I know some people here think I'm just an attention-seeker," I said, my voice cool and steady, glancing toward the section where a group of jealous girl-group members sat. Their smiles froze. "But my fans didn't buy my album because I'm quiet. They bought it because I'm real."
I looked out at the sea of lightsticks.
"To my fans: Thank you for loving me. That's all."
Instead of a 10-minute speech, I grabbed the expensive flower bouquet from the podium and threw it with a perfect spiral—straight into the middle of the fan section. The crowd went feral.
As I walked off stage, I passed Ateez. I caught Wooyoung's eye. He looked shocked, a half-smirk on his face. He'd never seen an idol act like this. I didn't blush. I just gave him a small, "What's up?" nod and kept walking.