Chapter Text
The streets surrounding Seoul Olympic Stadium were alive with noise and colour. Cars slowly making their way through traffic towards the venue, crowds of people walking up the paths, anticipation and excitement in the air, it was as if the whole city had turned out for the night.
Barricades snaked around the plaza, attempting to provide some sort of method to the madness that was occurring. Every lamppost had a banner hung on it, sleek fabric trimmed in a multitude of colours, Hangul printed so large, there was no mistaking what was going to happen tonight. Idol Awards 2025. Massive panels covered the stadium’s façade, cycling through teasers of all the nominees. Dozens of spotlights swept through the night sky in slow arcs, ensuring the whole city knew the magnitude of the event. There were vendors set up all around the grounds of the stadium: carts stacked with bottled drinks, grills sizzling with the aromas of Sotteok Sotteok skewers, tables covered in merchandise, from lightsticks to mini flags, from pins to clothing. The Idol Awards might not have started yet, but the celebrations certainly had.
Near the entrances, the crowds were packed so tightly it felt like one giant body, surging forward when people moved. Reporters waded through the people, their camera lights cutting flashes across thousands of faces as they tried to capture what was already being called the biggest Idol Awards in years. Students still in their uniforms held up hand-drawn signs, marker ink shimmering under the floodlights. Couples with glowing bracelets took selfies with the stadium behind them, cheeks pressed together, laughter barely audible over the chaos. Friends draped in merch shouted fan chants between sips of their drinks, waving their lightsticks in rhythm. Somewhere in the middle of the line, a portable speaker started playing How It’s Done, and within seconds voices joined in, chaotic and united in their joy. Staffers in bright event jackets tried their best to maintain order, yelling into megaphones that no one could really hear or understand. The air itself seemed to vibrate, heat from the stalls, from the people, the electrical hum of all the devices and lights, the glare of press cameras lighting up moments. Every few minutes, another car rolled up to the red carpet, and the crowd erupted again, screaming as idols and actors stepped out, pausing for camera flashes before vanishing into the glowing mouth of the stadium.
Security staff waved arrivals through the glass doors, the roar of the crowd dulling to a distant thunder once inside.
Just inside the entrance, network camera crews had claimed a large area, cords snaking through puddles of light from the spot rigs. Reporters stood against logo covered backdrops with microphones pressed tight to their lips, trying to sound composed over the screaming as they interviewed eager fans. One camera panned across a line of fans waiting for their turn, three girls in matching holographic HUNTR/X shirts and denim skirts, hair streaked with purple, pink and blue to match the colours of their biases. The logo shimmered every time the lights shifted. A reporter leaned in with the mic.
“Who’s taking awards home tonight?” the reporter called out, voice raised just enough to be heard over the noise, the tone half-professional, half-genuinely curious.
The first girl jumped forward before her friends could answer. “HUNTR/X! Artist of the Year for sure!” she shouted, almost into the mic. “I can’t even stand still, I’ve been waiting for this all week!”
The reporter laughed, steadying the microphone. “Strong words, so no second choices?”
The girl shook her head violently. “None. There’s no way they don’t win.”
Her friend beside her chimed in without waiting for a cue, leaning close so her voice wouldn’t be lost in the background. “We’re still looping Golden every day! Three months, and it’s still in our most repeated songs! I sing along almost every time I listen to it. It’s easily going to take home Song of the Year!”
The third fan, a little more composed, adjusted her glasses before speaking. “There’s a lot of great artists here, you can’t ignore juggernauts like TWICE or BLACKPINK,” she said with careful emphasis, “but after what those girls had the courage to do? Worldwide Icon of the Year belongs to them.”
The reporter nodded, smiling as the camera operator gave a small signal that they still had time left for one more question. “Alright,” he said, shifting his stance and glancing back at the lens. “Let’s go for one more, since these veteran groups can’t exactly win Best New Artist, who do you think takes that one?”
The three looked at each other, clearly unprepared for the question. The first girl pursed her lips, thinking. “Hmm… I mean, Hearts2Hearts has had a really strong year.”
Her friend immediately countered, “Yeah, but CORTIS debuted with their summer single, what was it called? What You Want? Everyone was obsessed with it.”
The third tilted her head, clearly torn, then snapped her fingers. “No, no, it’s gotta be KiiiKiii. Their MVs are so fun and fresh in the best way. Every single one looks amazing, like, bright, chaotic, colourful. You can tell they actually enjoy themselves when they film.”
The first two exchanged a look, then nodded in reluctant agreement. “Okay, yeah,” the first one said, laughing. “Fine, KiiiKiii deserves it. But HUNTR/X still wins the night.”
The reporter chuckled, lowering the mic slightly. “You heard it here first,” she said, turning back to the camera. “Confidence in the veterans, faith in the newcomers, and absolutely no shortage of passion out here at the Idol Awards.”
Further down the entrance area, the noise shifted, less shrieking, more laughter and chatter near the merch booths.
Another camera crew had cornered a young couple. Both were wrapped in matching pastel jackets, their fingers intertwined around a shared cup of coffee, still steaming. The girl had a tiny HUNTR/X pin clipped to her collar; the boy wore a NMIXX scarf knotted around his neck.
The reporter leaned toward them, smiling through the noise. “You two look like you came prepared for a long night. So, Song of the Year. What’s your pick?”
The girl grinned without hesitation. “Blue Valentine! Definitely Blue Valentine.”
Her boyfriend nodded immediately, laughing. “We’ve been saying it all month. It’s the one song we can’t skip no matter what mood we’re in, there’s no way it doesn’t win.”
The reporter raised her eyebrow, amused. “That’s a confident answer! You’re not tempted to go with the crowd favourite of Golden tonight?”
“Of course we love Golden,” the girl said quickly, pointing to her pin, as if to prove she wasn’t a heretic. “Everyone does! But Blue Valentine just…” she paused, searching for words “It hit differently, you know? It’s been stuck in my head since the first time I heard it. We’ve basically made it our song.”
Her boyfriend leaned closer to the mic, smiling at her before speaking. “She means we play it every night. Even when it’s freezing like tonight, we go out onto our balcony and dance along to it.”
The reporter laughed, glancing toward the camera crew, who were clearly enjoying the story. “That’s commitment,” she said. “So, if NMIXX wins, what happens?”
He shrugged, still holding his girlfriend’s hand. “We celebrate. Probably too loud. Probably embarrassingly.”
She nodded, giggling. “He’ll post it to TikTok before the encore’s even over.”
“Gotta document history,” he said, grinning wide.
The reporter chuckled, turning back to the lens as a fresh wave of cheers rose from the crowd nearby. “There you have it,” she said, still smiling. “Love in the air, coffee in hand, and full confidence in Blue Valentine for Song of the Year.
The reporter glanced back toward the inner stadium, then lifted a hand to her earpiece. “We’re being told to wrap,” she said, already stepping back. The cameraman panned out for a final wide shot. Inside on stage, the displays came to life, and as the broadcast countdown began, the camera cranes pulled back, sweeping across the crowd. The chants rose again, different names being chanted over and over, every voice blending into a single wall of noise that rolled toward the stage. Security started clearing the last of the fans from the entryway, guiding them into the glowing corridors that led to their seats.
Inside, the lights dimmed one section at a time, until only the stage gleamed, a sprawling expanse of mirrored panels and LED columns waiting to light. The energy in the air was almost physical, heat, nerves, perfume, and the sharp scent of smoke drifting from the rafters.
Back outside, the reporters wrapped up their final interviews, faces flushing with excitement. “That’s all from the carpet for now,” one said into the camera, voice almost drowned by the roar behind her. “The 2025 Idol Awards are about to begin.”
The director’s voice crackled through earpieces: fade to broadcast feed.
Every screen around the stadium flickered to black, then to gold lettering.
LIVE FROM SEOUL - THE IDOL AWARDS
The bass hit once, deep enough to shake the stands, before the lights exploded.
The show had begun.