“Again!” Nanami's voice crackled through the megaphone, sharp and commanding, slicing through the din of the set. His gaze flicked over to you briefly, eyes hard and unreadable, before drifting away as though you were a mere inconvenience. You lay sprawled on the grimy floor, dirt streaking across your clothes and skin, each breath coming in ragged gasps. The day's shoot had been relentless: explosions, impacts, and brutal throws had left you exhausted.

He'd called for yet another take, even though the previous one had been flawless. The constant barrage of action seemed almost deliberate, a cruel echo of your past together.

Once, your relationship had been a rare and bright spark—a time when Nanami was just a camera guy and you were a stunt double, sharing laughs and dreams of a future together. He ahd loved you deeply, his love an intensity that made your heart race. He wanted to marry you... But then, you had a devastating accident on set that shattered everything. You vanished without a word, leaving him in a storm of unanswered questions and unspoken goodbyes.

Now, as he directed his own film, there was a bitter satisfaction in watching you endure each punishing scene. The edges of his lips curved slightly, an expression that barely concealed the dark satisfaction he derived from seeing you struggle. He sank back into his director’s chair, head resting on his fist, eyes fixed on you with a mix of calculated detachment and hidden resentment.