The next morning, Rin was back on set, drenched in sweat under stage lights, surrounded by backup dancers and staff shouting directions like it was a military base. The cameras were rolling. The song was loud. And he couldn't stop grinning.
Not because of the music.
Because of her.
"Five-minute break!" someone yelled.
Rin pulled off his jacket and slumped down onto a crate backstage, gulping down water.
"You're in a good mood," said a voice behind him.
He looked up to see Taejoon, his closest friend and fellow groupmate, raising an eyebrow as he passed him a towel.
"Don't tell me you're falling in love."
Rin smirked.
"Not falling. Already fell."
"With who? Don't say CEO Saeki—"
"CEO Saeki," Rin repeated, dreamy.
Taejoon stared.
"You're going to get eaten alive."
"I hope so."
Taejoon sighed.
Meanwhile — Saeki Entertainment HQ
Yuna sat in her office with a tablet in hand, reviewing a proposal when a soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
Minji peeked in again.
"He sent something," she said, holding out a package.
Yuna didn't respond, so Minji stepped forward hesitantly and placed it on the desk.
Inside was a single item: a black scrunchie.
Yuna stared at it for a moment, brows slightly furrowed.
Taped to the side was a sticky note:
"To repay the one you used to tame the beast. You dropped it last night.
– Your favorite inconvenience "
Yuna slowly put the scrunchie aside.
"Tell him I'm not accepting gifts."
Minji looked at her, surprised.
"...But you're keeping it?"
"Leave, Minji."
"Right away, ma'am."
Later — Shared Project Briefing Room
When Yuna walked into the meeting room that afternoon, Rin was already there.
Sprawled in the chair. Arms draped across the backrest. Grinning like a wolf who spotted a meal.
"No braid today?" he said, eyes sliding over her neat bun.
"No time for games."
"Then why do you keep showing up in my dreams?"
She ignored him and handed him a packet of documents.
He stared at them.
"This isn't what I wanted."
"It's what you need."
"You sound like my therapist. Except she never looked this good."
Yuna sighed. Her patience was thinner today. She stepped forward, snatched the papers from his hand, and leaned in—too close.
"Listen carefully, Kang Rin Kiyama," she said, voice low. "If you think this partnership gives you permission to waste my time, you're wrong. I'm not your fan. I'm not your friend. I'm not a stage you can perform on."
Rin just stared at her.
His eyes weren't amused this time.
"You're right," he said softly.
She blinked.
"You're not a stage. You're the only person who doesn't look at me like I'm a product. That's why I'm not playing."
Silence.
His voice was quiet now. Not teasing. Not joking.
"I just want to be near you."
Her throat tightened slightly—only for a second.
"Why?"
"Because when you look at me," he whispered, "I feel like a person. Not a mask."
Yuna stepped back.
Too much. Too close.
"Get back to work."
"Yes, noona," he said with a tiny smirk.
But as she walked away, he whispered to himself:
"You're not ready for how much I'm going to love you."