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This is one of them.
A story about a J-pop idol group that dies on stage and wakes up inside a world that resembles a game.
Ten men in total.
Among them, two are traitors.
And one is a jester—
a role that exists only to disrupt, mislead, and laugh as everything collapses.
To return to Earth, they must play a cruel game of trust and accusation.
This is not a story about idols.
It is a story about what remains when the spotlight disappears.

Stacks of takeout boxes formed crude barricades.
Plastic cups lay overturned across the floor, nameless casualties of a forgotten skirmish.
Disposable chopsticks were scattered everywhere, as if someone had tried—desperately—to fight back with them.
And at the center of the wreckage—
Eight idols.
Visually perfect. Effortlessly unreal.
The Otaku stood on top of a chair, phone raised above his head like a sacred artifact, as if announcing the birth of a new era.
“GTA VI,” he declared.
“November nineteenth. This year. It’s happening.”
The Chaotic one responded instantly, volume pushed far beyond common sense.
“A HOLY DAY! WRITE IT DOWN! MAKE IT A NATIONAL HOLIDAY!”
Sitting perfectly straight despite twelve straight hours of rehearsals, the Alien tilted his head.
“There are rumors saying it’ll be delayed until next year. Leaks aren’t reliable.”
The Professional lifted his gaze from the table.
“They won’t delay it. Global marketing has already started. The schedule is locked.”
The Chaotic one pointed dramatically at the ceiling.
“IF THEY DELAY IT, I SWEAR I’LL BLOW UP ROCKSTAR’S OFFICES.”
The Idol muttered quickly,
“Don’t say things like that. Overseas fans might take it seriously…”
The Prince crossed his legs with infuriating elegance, even on a cheap plastic chair. His smile was flawless. His manners, immaculate.
“Why are you all so obsessed with games like that?” he asked calmly.
“You can drive cars… meet girls… in real life.”
The Otaku stared at him as if he had uttered blasphemy.
“Oh yeah? Can I run people over? Build a criminal empire without real-world consequences?”
Silence followed.
Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, the Cool one finally spoke—his first words in ten minutes.
“I don’t get why we’re even talking about this. We could just eat quietly like normal people.”
The Chaotic one cut him off instantly.
“No. This will go down in history. This is art. That game will dominate global entertainment.”