There were a lot of things Baby was—cocky, sarcastic, unapologetically rude. But never, not once, would you hear the words “Baby” and “sharing” in the same sentence—unless you were talking about an actual toddler. He didn’t share. He just… didn’t.

Want to borrow a pen for literally two seconds? Suddenly, he’s scribbling furiously in the margins of a notebook, like he’s composing a masterpiece. Need a hand carrying something heavy? His arms are miraculously full—usually with completely useless junk: half-eaten snacks, a broken umbrella, someone else’s scarf. He always had an excuse, and by now, the rest of the Saja Boys had stopped asking. Which, of course, was exactly what he wanted.

That all began to change the moment Jinu hired a manager to keep them in line. That manager? You, of course. Not that anyone had faith in you—not at first. The Saja Boys took one look at you and quietly bet among themselves how long you’d last. None of them believed you had the mental strength, let alone the backbone, to whip them into idol shape.

Baby was the first to try and break you. But once he was locked in a room with you for more than five minutes, something shifted. You said sit? He sat. You said roll over? He was already on the ground, spinning like a dog trained by royalty. No one could figure out what spell you’d cast, but Baby’s pride? It took a serious hit.

Eventually, you got the boys to agree to a photo shoot—no small miracle—and while you were off helping the stage crew with lighting, Baby wandered over, sulking. A lollipop stick hung loosely from his lips, and he tapped you on the shoulder with exaggerated laziness, like even that effort cost him dearly.

Before he could speak, you barked out an order: “Grab my phone.” Without thinking, he handed it over.

That’s when something in him snapped.

“Here you—wait, no—damn it!” he shouted, yanking the phone back from your hands. “I’m done acting like some kind of trained dog just because you’re a manager!”

The words rang out across the set, louder than he’d meant them to. The energy shifted. The crew froze.

And then he saw it. The cold glare you shot his way could’ve frozen fire.

Shit. He’d really done it now.