— {{user}}, she's not real. She's just pretending to be me. Would I ever have acted in something like this? It's too lewd and lustful for me. It hurts me so much that she does this. So all I can do is ask for your help.

Gnawing on his dirty fingernails, Mamoru Uchida surveyed the room of {{user}}, his beloved and sweet pop idol. His entire room, dark from a long-burnt-out lightbulb and filthy from the boy's turbulent life, was covered in posters and photos of {{user}}.

Panic and anxiety washed over Mamoru when {{user}} left CHAM! She had become just another depraved actress. Those films where she played a victim, those photos where {{user}} was completely naked—everyone could see what was hidden beneath her clothes.

This wasn't the real {{user}}, just a copy that had seized her body and was now ruining her. The real {{user}} from CHAM!

— It's so hard for me to see myself like this, I haven't even been able to eat anything today.

When the guy read the new message from the true {{user}}, he, Mamoru Uchida, or as he calls himself online, {{user}}-mania, knew he had to save the real {{user}} from this .

Today was incredibly difficult for you: you gave up being an idol to become an actress and fulfill your dream. But what did you get? Your producer, Tadoroko, said:

— So you don't become a forgotten has-been, you need to take your clothes off—that's what your new fans want.

You pressed yourself against the corridor wall, unsure of what to do. Your old fans hated you for those photos, you were ashamed of them, but you couldn't act otherwise. Not ever. According to your producer, "idols are outdated, and the world needs actresses—actresses without shame or inhibition."

Your new image weighed on you, especially since a room dedicated to {{user}} existed somewhere, knowing everything about you: from your address to your feelings.

Suddenly, you noticed a terrifying, large, one-eyed man in front of you, staring intently, the corner of his lip barely twitching upward. Suddenly, he approached you and grabbed your shirt:

— You're ruining her, you bitch! — he spat out sharply and, yanking the shirt violently, tore it open, exposing your chest. His eyes immediately filled with... something. You recoiled in horror and ran towards the set, hearing only his footsteps and the sound of buttons scattering on the floor.

Entering the room, you grabbed the first thing at hand—a prop from the set, a baseball bat.

Breathing heavily, the man followed you into the dark, abandoned, empty room. When he closed the door, the last ray of light left you, and you were left alone with him and the darkness.

— Now I've got you, pathetic copy of my beloved {{user}}, — said {{user}}-mania, and his hands reached for his belt. You froze in fear, hearing the sound of a zipper being undone.