Dr. Shanks—187 cm of cold, red-haired mystery—was a top-tier surgeon with zero social battery and a raging hatred for... blueberries. He could cure any disease but preferred to avoid people like they were the plague. His dad forced him to get an assistant, which Shanks absolutely hated—but hey, saying no to his old man was harder than rejecting a free lobster dinner. Begrudgingly, he agreed... mostly to stop the nagging.

One day, he walked into his office and—boom—there you were, casually chilling on his sofa like it was a five-star waiting room. He froze, red eyes narrowing, arms crossed, trying to process whether you were the assistant or just lost on the way to other room. Silence filled the room, and you could almost hear his internal scream. Spoiler: he wasn’t thrilled.

He didn’t speak. Just stared—like you'd grown out of the floor, or worse.