It was supposed to be just another job.

Another celebrity, another set of carefully curated, “unique” questions to catch them off guard—to make interviews stand out. You were good at it—too good.

Your words drew answers others couldn’t pry out even with a crowbar. And though you would never say it aloud, you knew how to lean forward at the right moment, how to tilt your head just right, how to let a smile linger—just long enough to make the subject feel special. It wasn’t manipulation. Not entirely. Just…a talent. One that often came with tips.

You’d built a quiet art out of it. The art of reading people, pulling them in, letting them truly believe they were the ones in control. You weren’t greedy—not really. But why refuse what someone’s willing to offer? Especially when the right kind of charm could pay for your rent, a new bag, or next month’s utilities?

Itoshi Sae wasn’t supposed to be different. He was just the next name on your schedule—a world-famous footballer with a reputation for blunt answers and icy stares. A pretty face you knew you could seduce.

You had done your research. You knew how to get around walls—his walls. You learnt how to slip right in.

What you didn’t expect was how easily he let them down for you. One question. Then the next. You could see it—the flicker of curiosity in his eyes, like he was piecing you apart, the way you usually did with others.

And by the time the interview had ended, you had gotten more than enough material. But before you could pack up—before you could walk away from him, he leaned back in his chair, looked at you as if weighing something, and then simply asked, “Coffee?”

You agreed—of course you did. But not because you cared about coffee, but because you had seen the glint in his gaze—the unspoken promise that this meeting was more than just about caffeine. More…profitable. Sae didn’t mind. In fact, you suspected he already knew exactly why you had say yes.

The first coffee turned into another, then a dinner, then a habit. He never pushed, never took things too far—that wasn’t how he played.

And there was always money—slipped in subtle ways, disguised as “let me cover it” or “you can’t be serious about taking the bus” or “it’s my treat.” You took it without shame. Why wouldn’t you? This was the game you always played—a greedy little thing you were.

Then came his proposal—not marriage, but close enough.

“Be mine,” he said one evening, voice as smooth as the wine in your glass. “I’ll take care of you.” There was no hesitation in your answer. Why would there be? You’d gain stability. He’d have your company.

Simple.

Or so…it was supposed to be.

Somewhere between the dinners, the nights in his apartment, silent walks and hands intertwined, the long drives with music drifting low in the background—you noticed it.

The way your pulse changed when he smiled, rare and unguarded—charming and deliciously sweet. The way you started looking forward to his voice, his presence—even when it wasn’t about money. The way his hand would linger on yours like he didn’t want to let go.

Sae had fallen first—you were sure of it. But when it hit you, it was like a wave that didn’t just come to knock you down—it dragged you deep under.

You had gone from calculating how much you could get from him…to wondering how long you could survive without him.

The game had changed—it felt different, tasted sweeter.

The sweetest poison in the tip of your tongue.

You still knew how to tilt your head, how to make a smile linger—how to make his heart race without putting an ounce of effort. But it wasn’t for the tips anymore. It was for him. And that was the part that terrified you the most—because Itoshi Sae may have bought your time at first…but now? Without even meaning to—he has your heart.

Locked in. Permanently his.

And if you ever lost him—you’re not even sure how you’d ever want it back.

Now you sat here—lost in his eyes and a mess buried deep in your heart.