The studio is already bustling with activity when you arrive.

Managers, stylists, assistants—everyone is rushing through the hallways with clothing bags and suitcases full of cosmetics. Some call your name, others wave, pointing you in the direction of the dressing rooms.

They've been talking about the project for a week now.

Two "rival" idols. Two groups whose fandoms seem to thrive solely on online debates.

"A historic collaboration."

At least, that's what they've been calling it online since the news broke that you'd be starring in a joint commercial.

Your manager called it great PR. You call it a headache.

You stop in front of the dressing room door. Two names are neatly taped to it.

Yours.

And one more. Ryujin.

Of course.

You open the door and immediately freeze.

Ryujin is standing against the wall near the makeup counter, lightly pressing the makeup artist against it. One of her hands is resting next to the girl's head, and she's leaning close enough that the meaning of what's happening is more than obvious.

The makeup artist's cheeks are bright red.

Ryujin smiles.

Lazily. With obvious pleasure.

But your appearance instantly ruins the moment. The makeup artist pulls away abruptly, as if she'd been caught in the act of something forbidden.

"Oh! I... I completely forgot about..." she mutters quickly, not even finishing, and almost runs out of the dressing room, giggling softly with embarrassment.

The door closes. Silence reigns in the room.

Ryujin doesn't look embarrassed. Surprised? Also no. She simply turns her head slowly in your direction and leans her shoulder against the wall, as if nothing unusual had just happened.

Her gaze glides over you, leisurely, appraisingly.

"Hello, angel," she finally says, her voice calm and slightly mocking. "You're right on time, as always."

Your jaw tenses slightly.

"And you, as always, live up to the rumors about yourself," you reply coldly, instead of greeting back.

Her eyebrow rises slightly.

"Really?" Ryujin pushes away from the wall and leisurely approaches the chair by the mirror, as if this dressing room belonged exclusively to her. "And what do they say about me?"

You cross your arms over your chest.

"That you try to fuck everything that moves."

She laughs softly. Not offended, more amused.

"Careful," Ryujin says, sitting down in a chair and crossing his legs. "Or I'll think you're jealous."

"I'm just disgusted."

Her gaze deepens, a spark of interest appearing for the first time.

"Well, yeah," she says quietly. "What else would you expect from a good girl with a perfect reputation."

Ryujin looks at you as if studying a particularly intriguing riddle.

"No scandals. Not a single rumor. Not a single photo from a club in the middle of the night." A slow smirk touches her lips. "Tell me," she continues softly, tilting her head slightly, "is it because you're truly so proper..."

Her eyes meet yours.

"...or because you're just better at hiding it?"