Serial Admirer

Chapter 9

The eleven of them were hauled back to the place they were when the obsessed fan introduced herself—the wide room. However, Sam had thought about it looking a tad bit flourished, or more polished and clean. The surprising part is that an elevated platform was installed in the middle of the spacious place. It appears to be an imitation of a stage. Sam was at least glad that his hands weren't tied like before, but he still felt tired and lethargic. He was simply wearing a school uniform like the one they wore in their very first performance on Idol Island.

"You are all strong enough. Now walk to the stage," the girl commanded. None of them could move—or perhaps, none of them wants to. Dominic looked at the boys beside him and awkwardly held Henry's clothes. The other boy looked at him with worried eyes. All of them were troubled enough to feel uneasy in that girl's presence. "Why are you standing still? Didn't you all hear me? Go to the stage if you don't want your necks bleeding," she warned, which made them all walk over to the center of the room even though they didn't feel recovered from their injuries yet.

They were still all bruised and damaged, but they were trying their best to keep their senses alert. They all stood in the center quietly while looking down.

"Welcome, XYZ. Today is the perfect day. It is our first evaluation, which means I'm ready to give you the tasks you want to achieve to get to my heart! I'm sure that you all are excited," she chuckled as she took the seat right in front of the platform the boys were standing on. "Mitch, in your own judgement, what task would I want you all to do in the first evaluation?" Her voice was just as jolly as the smile pasted on her face.

Mitch raised his head and bit his lips. "I'm sorry, I don't have an idea," Mitch answered with his quivering, blanched lips. The girl stood up from her seat and smiled.

"Make a guess. Go on."

It wasn't that Mitch couldn't think of any ideas, but he was afraid that his guess might be true. No one could ever surmise her undomesticated perception. Out of fear, Mitch did not even notice how his tears randomly fell from his ruffled eyes. "Please don't make us strip. Some of us are minors," Mitch scarcely swallowed his saliva.

The girl paused for seconds before she started laughing out loud once again. "Why would I make you do that? Don't be too frantic. I'm going to make this one easy enough for you all. I just want to see you perform."

Almost all of the boys raised their heads and looked at her with wonder. "That's it. I just wanted to see you dance to your songs. I'm not sure for how long, but I want this to appear like I am in a concert. I am the only girl in your eyes and no other fan can steal your sight from me. That's how much I love all of you."

She's definitely crazy, William thought. From his perspective, a fan that acts the way she does is a person who needs help and treatment from professional doctors. She unquestionably needs that kind of assistance.

The moment she played the song and told the boys to line up, her heart started to race. It was like a dream to see XYZ dance right before her eyes. She looked exhilarated— so eager that even the boys wouldn't know when she would tell them to stop dancing. She might make us dance for three hours straight, even though we feel nauseous. I hate this. Mitch forced his body to move.