Chapter Two
I once dreamed of being a K-pop idol.
I'd stare into the mirror, blasting *Starlight's* debut song, hairbrush in hand like it was a mic, and convince myself I was born for the stage. But dreams and reality have this awkward thing where they don't always align.
My voice? Somewhere between frog and fan squeal.
My dancing? Imagine a scarecrow on roller skates.
Yeah.
No one had to tell me I wouldn't make it. My own reflection told me. Loudly.
So I gave it up quietly. No tears, just a quiet goodbye to that version of me.
But I didn't give up on K-pop.
Instead, I found another dream. A new purpose.
*History.*
If I couldn't be part of the stage, I'd write the stories behind it.
Now, I'm a history major in a tiny university most people can't point to on a map. But I have a goal that makes me giddy: I want to write a *biography* of *Starlight*. Not just any fan blog or recycled wiki content—*the* definitive story. Their journey. Their legacy. Their truth.
I've been gathering everything—old interviews, translated articles, fan theories, timeline charts. My laptop is basically a shrine. And one day, I hope I'll sit down with them face-to-face and tell them:
"I'm your biggest fan, but also your historian."
Today marks my *fifth year* as part of *Orbit*.
Five years of laughter, tears, and endless support from people I've never met in person but who know me better than most of my family.
We've survived scandals, military enlistments, and THAT one haircut.
(You know the one.)
So tonight, I'm wearing my Starlight hoodie, lighting my fan lightstick, and blasting the anniversary playlist.
Because no matter how far I am from Seoul… I'm *home*.
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People say love makes you do crazy things. I say—*they've clearly never met a K-pop fangirl.*
I saved for *seven months*. Skipped lunch at school, sold some of my clothes online, worked part-time at a dusty bookstore where the owner called every K-pop song "noise," and pocketed every single allowance I got like it was gold.
All for one thing:
*Starlight's World Tour.*
*Live. In. Los Angeles.*
It wasn't just a concert. It was *my dream in Dolby Surround*. And I wasn't about to miss it, even if it meant sleeping on a friend's couch in LA and surviving on instant noodles for three days straight.
Getting the ticket was like winning the lottery. Actually, no—people *win* the lottery. This was more like surviving *The Hunger Games* with 20,000 fans attacking the same site at once. But I got it. Row 14. Not front row, but close enough to see sweat and soul leave their bodies. I *cried* when the confirmation email hit.
But my hostel didn't care.
"Curfew is at 9 p.m. sharp."
*Pfft.* Try telling a fangirl she can't see her idols.
I snuck out at 8:45, hoodie up, heart pounding like I was running from the FBI. Went to a *fan meet event* the night before the concert—unofficial, chaotic, and magical. We all screamed when they showed up unannounced. Juwon waved at me. *ME.* I swear I almost ascended.
Now, this next part is not my proudest moment…
One of my so-called "friends" back home said,
*"Starlight is overrated. They all look the same anyway."*
I saw red.
The next thing I knew, her coffee was on her shirt and my earrings were off.
We haven't spoken since.
And I have *no regrets.*
You don't diss my boys and expect a hug.