SPICY TEAM A and SPICY TEAM B materialized side-by-side on the screen, black and crimson typography pulsing in tandem.
Both vote counters ignited simultaneously. Spicy Team A's numbers erupted upward—1,456,782... 2,234,567... 2,987,341...
The speed was merciless.
My stomach plummeted. Of course Hyunki would dominate.
That shirtless finale, the predatory choreography, the audience's hysteria—
3,456,098... 3,789,234...
I exhaled slowly, accepting defeat. We'd given everything, but Haejun's injury had probably cost us—
Our counter suddenly accelerated.
2,345,098... 3,012,447... 3,456,782...
I sat straighter.
Wait.
The numbers climbed faster now, matching Spicy Team A's relentless pace.
3,678,901... 3,845,223...
We were catching up. Beside me, Haejun's breathing changed—shallow, controlled.
Our counter surged past theirs.
3,987,654... 4,102,334...
It didn't slow.
4,345,678... 4,512,890...
The gap widened with each passing second.
