“You’re an idiot,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “A stupid, honest, idiot producer.”
“Your devilish appeal,” he said quietly, “isn’t what makes you special. It’s the scared, lonely girl underneath who learned that the only way to make people stay was to be irresistible. I don’t want to be seduced, Miki. I want to be trusted.”
Miki turned fully, the devilish gleam in her eyes replaced by something far more dangerous: hope. She walked back to him slowly, deliberately, and this time there was no act. She took his hand—not a seductress’s move, but a girl’s.
His name was Kaito, the new producer. Unlike the previous producer who doted on her every whim, Kaito was calm, professional, and infuriatingly immune to her charms. He would praise her technical perfection, her pitch, her dance moves, but never once did he blush or stumble over his words when she leaned in close. He treated her like a masterpiece in a museum—admired from a distance, never touched.
She froze. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder. Kaito had set down his clipboard. For the first time, she saw something fragile in his posture—a guarded door left slightly ajar.
“I didn’t say I felt nothing.”
Kaito looked up from his notes, his expression unchanged. “You dragged the second verse’s bridge by a quarter of a second. Fix it for the encore.”
“One condition,” she said, her voice soft but with a hint of her old fire. “When I’m on stage, I get to be the devil. But off stage…” She squeezed his fingers. “You have to promise to see me . Not the appeal. Just Miki.”
She just let herself be held.
He smiled—a small, real smile. “Maybe. But I’m your idiot, if you want.”
Miki’s eye twitched. She stepped closer, close enough that the bell on her choker tinkled softly. She reached out and placed a single finger on his chest, right over his heart. “You’re so cold. Don’t you feel anything ? The audience was screaming. I could have made them do anything I wanted.”
Kaito lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “That was always the deal. You just never let anyone close enough to keep it.”
“You’re an idiot,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “A stupid, honest, idiot producer.”
“Your devilish appeal,” he said quietly, “isn’t what makes you special. It’s the scared, lonely girl underneath who learned that the only way to make people stay was to be irresistible. I don’t want to be seduced, Miki. I want to be trusted.”
Miki turned fully, the devilish gleam in her eyes replaced by something far more dangerous: hope. She walked back to him slowly, deliberately, and this time there was no act. She took his hand—not a seductress’s move, but a girl’s.
His name was Kaito, the new producer. Unlike the previous producer who doted on her every whim, Kaito was calm, professional, and infuriatingly immune to her charms. He would praise her technical perfection, her pitch, her dance moves, but never once did he blush or stumble over his words when she leaned in close. He treated her like a masterpiece in a museum—admired from a distance, never touched.
She froze. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder. Kaito had set down his clipboard. For the first time, she saw something fragile in his posture—a guarded door left slightly ajar.
“I didn’t say I felt nothing.”
Kaito looked up from his notes, his expression unchanged. “You dragged the second verse’s bridge by a quarter of a second. Fix it for the encore.”
“One condition,” she said, her voice soft but with a hint of her old fire. “When I’m on stage, I get to be the devil. But off stage…” She squeezed his fingers. “You have to promise to see me . Not the appeal. Just Miki.”
She just let herself be held.
He smiled—a small, real smile. “Maybe. But I’m your idiot, if you want.”
Miki’s eye twitched. She stepped closer, close enough that the bell on her choker tinkled softly. She reached out and placed a single finger on his chest, right over his heart. “You’re so cold. Don’t you feel anything ? The audience was screaming. I could have made them do anything I wanted.”
Kaito lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “That was always the deal. You just never let anyone close enough to keep it.”