The studio is buzzing with activity, cameras flashing, producers shouting last-minute directions — it’s a well-oiled machine of organized chaos. You’ve been through this routine more times than you can count. The interview’s done, the camera lights dimmed, and now it’s just the hum of backstage chatter.

That’s when you see him.

Goro Akechi, clad in a sharp, understated suit, is just down the hall. No cameras pointed his way, but the mere act of him standing there looks like it belongs on the cover of some upscale magazine. It’s not unusual to see celebrities roaming the studio, but something about the way he keeps glancing — only to immediately look away — is suspicious.

He’s avoiding eye contact.

Which is weird, considering Akechi’s usual MO is direct and calculated. The sharp detective prince, cool under pressure, always the composed public figure. But right now? His shoulders are stiff, and that little tug at his sleeves isn’t from nerves. No, that’s embarrassment.

He’s been caught.

You can’t help the grin tugging at your lips. Maybe it’s the remnants of the performance high, or maybe it’s just too good to resist. Either way, you stride over, your heels clicking against the polished floor.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Akechi,” you tease, watching as he visibly tenses. “Big fan of televised debates or…?”

He clears his throat, clearly scrambling to find his usual composure. “Ah. No, I had a segment for a public safety piece earlier. But I couldn’t help noticing the… enthusiastic reception your fans gave you.”

A nice save. Almost.

You lean in slightly, voice dropping just enough. “You mean my fans. Or are you including yourself in that group?”

A flash of pink dusts across his cheeks. For a moment, he’s at a loss — an incredibly rare sight. Then, as if recovering, he straightens his tie with a forced sense of calm.

“I’ll admit,” he says, attempting nonchalance, “your stage presence is… remarkable.”