━ INN Studio, Meteor City ━
Under the shining lights of the lavish indoor stadium.
Judy Cho sat cross-legged in a plush, navy blue swivel chair that looked far more expensive than her rent. Dressed in her usual crisp maroon blazer and matching heels, hair in a tight bob, and makeup that screamed professional, she smiled like a seasoned host, the perfect picture of a respected journalist.
At least on camera.
But anyone who knew Judy off-air—say, the cat she shared her apartment with—would've scoffed.
Offscreen, she was the queen of microwaved noodles and hoarded newspapers, her days spent buried under blankets with dark circles and half-eaten tuna sandwiches. And now, here she was, live on international broadcast, pretending she didn't despise this entire setup.
She smiled at the audience in the stands—then flashed an even wider smile at the camera.
So wide it almost cracked her cheeks.
"And now…"
She began with a syrupy tone so fake it made her want to gag with disgust.
