The venue erupted in an uproar.
"Oh my God, how can someone have fewer than a hundred supporters?"
"Maybe they're just terrible. The audience must hate them."
Viviane stood at the center of the stage, the lights casting a sharp, almost cold outline around her figure. She held her posture straight, unfazed by the countless judgmental stares and murmured ridicule.
Her gaze swept across the packed audience before finally settling on the judges' table.
A strange tension hung in the air, like a powder keg on the verge of ignition.
Viviane's lips curved slightly, her voice cool yet sharp. "Contestant 86 questions the fairness of this competition."
She deliberately referred to herself as "Contestant 86" rather than "I," making it clear that she was speaking from the perspective of a compet
