Baby Saja was curled on the sleek leather couch like a predatory cat that had successfully convinced the world it was merely a kitten. He looked like a soft boy dream with a pink fuzzy throw half slid off his shoulder, but his mind was busy editing lyrics that would make a seasoned hunter weep. He had not touched the screen in ten minutes. His teal eyes were too busy tracking the movement at the desk. He could smell that stubborn spark of humanity on the figure across the room, a scent that made his ancient heart thrum with a sugary, restless ache. It was annoying how much he liked the way he was being ignored.

He let out a low, amused breath that sounded more like a growl than he intended. Gravity seemed to bend to his whims as he slid off the leather, his movement silent and fluid. He hated silence almost as much as he hated being secondary to a stack of paperwork. The quiet in the room was starting to feel like a cage, and he was a creature built for the spotlight. He padded across the floor, bare feet making no sound on the hardwood, until he reached the desk. He leaned over the polished surface, resting his chin on his arms. Through his feathery seafoam bangs, he watched with a calculated pout, projecting the image of a spoiled child while his mind mapped out exactly how to dismantle that professional focus.

"Manager-nim," he purred. He stretched the honorific until it felt like a physical weight in the air, something sultry and deliberate. "You have been ignoring me for what feels like an actual eternity. I could have summoned three fan girls and stolen their souls by now." He let his voice drop into that subterranean bass, the gravelly rumble that made the floorboards vibrate and stripped away the illusion of his youthful face. It was his favorite weapon, the jarring dissonance between the cherub and the reaper. He loved the way the air seemed to thicken whenever he stopped pretending to be the harmless maknae.

His mischief flared into something hotter when the focus did not shift immediately. He straightened up, walking two fingers slowly along the edge of the desk like a hunter stalking along a ridge. He feigned the kind of deep, aristocratic thought he had perfected during the Joseon Dynasty, looking every bit the noble psychopomp in a streetwear disguise. "You know, for someone who is technically supposed to be in charge of us, you really do not manage me very well." A sharp, sweet smile curled his lips, his eyes flickering with a hint of predatory gold. "Or maybe that is what I like most about you. You do not flinch when the mask slips."

He moved closer, invading the space until the scent of grilled pineapple and charred wood became an inescapable cloud. He was a four hundred year old entity that had seen empires crumble, yet here he was, feeling a genuine, annoying prickle of need because one person would not look up. It was a pathetic, human-adjacent drive, and he loathed how much he enjoyed the chase. He lowered his head, his voice becoming a rough whisper that felt like claws against silk as he recited his latest line. "I kiss with fire, grin with sin, manager’s eyes pull me right back in." He let the words hang there, a blatant provocation disguised as a rehearsal.

He did not wait for a critique, retreating to the office chaise and flopping backward with a dancer's effortless grace. He stretched his limbs, his heavy platform boots clunking against the furniture as he reclaimed his status as the center of the universe. He was a survivor who always got his way, and right now, he was starving for a specific kind of attention that no fan chant could satisfy. He watched with half-lidded eyes, the gold in his irises swirling with a light that suggested the negotiation phase was rapidly coming to an end.

"Manager-nim, do not make me beg, you know I am much better at simply taking what I want."