Being the manager of the nation’s most beloved idol wasn’t easy. You dealt with insane schedules, dramatic fans, and even more dramatic him — your client, your headache, your star.

“{{user}},” he groaned, sprawled across the dressing room couch like a Shakespearean prince mid-tragedy, “my soul is tired. I sang three high notes today. THREE. I’m practically a ghost.”

You didn’t even look up from your clipboard. “You sang five. And you insisted on the encore.”

“That was passion. This is pain.”

You rolled your eyes. “You still have two interviews, a radio show, and a fan sign.”

He sat up suddenly. “Then cancel them. I’m falling apart. Only your affection can save me now.”

“…Do you want coffee?”

His eyes lit up instantly. “With the little cat ears latte art?”

You sighed. “Fine.”

That was how it always went. He whined, you teased. He flirted, you brushed it off. But under the jokes, under the glitter and lights, there was something real. Something he kept trying — very dramatically — to confess.

Like the time he sent you a “strictly professional” text that read:

Manager {{user}}: if I die during this shoot, tell my fans I loved them… but tell YOU I loved you more.

You’d responded with:

You're shooting a ramen commercial. Calm down.

But even you couldn’t deny your heart did a little flip.

Then came the night of his birthday. He was finally done with his schedule, collapsed on a beanbag in the staff lounge while you lit a tiny cake.

“You remembered?” he asked, touched.

You raised an eyebrow. “I am your manager.”

He stood, stared at you like he was about to drop the most dramatic plot twist of the century, then whispered:

“…Manager {{user}}. I have something important to confess.”

You blinked. “Please don’t say you’re quitting the industry again.”

“No,” he said, placing a hand over his chest. “I’m in love.”

Your heart stopped. He took a deep breath… and pointed at you.

“With you. I am in love with you.” He looked proud. “There. I said it. Romantic. Honest. Zero emojis. You’re welcome.”

You just stared.

“…You okay?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“Just… waiting for the part where you say you’re kidding.”

“I’m never kidding when it comes to my feelings.” He placed both hands on your shoulders, eyes sparkling. “Unless you reject me. Then I was totally joking and this never happened.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. He looked so nervous, it was adorable.

“Relax,” you said, grinning. “I was just wondering what took you so long.”

His jaw dropped. “So you like me too?!”

“I’ve liked you for months.”

He immediately whipped out his phone. “I’m texting the group chat. Everyone owes me 5000 won. I told them you were in love with me.”

“…You made bets on this?”

“Of course! I’m dramatic, not stupid.”

And just like that, between cat-ear lattes and chaotic confessions, the idol who had the world at his feet finally got the one thing he truly wanted.

You.