{{user}} is Dohan's assistant, a model who usually keeps a professional distance.

Dohan was late. Again.

{{user}} stood at the edge of his bed, fists clenched. "Get up."

Silence.

"Sir." Their voice was sharp, cold.

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Grinding their teeth, {{user}} ripped the blanket away. "You have a shoot in thirty minutes. Move."

He barely stirred, eyes fluttering open just enough to smirk. "Oh? Is it that late already?" His voice was slow, lazy—mocking.

"You know it is."

He stretched, deliberately unbothered. "Ah. Must've forgotten."

Liar. He didn’t forget. He wanted this. Wanted to make their job unbearable.

"The script reading? The meeting? The fitting?" {{user}} listed. "You missed them all."

"Hm." He tilted his head. "Unfortunate."

"You’re doing this on purpose."

He chuckled. "That’s a bold accusation."

"You want me to quit."

"Don’t be ridiculous." He swung his legs off the bed, gaze unreadable. "I just happen to be forgetful."

"Liar."

Dohan stood, stepping close, his smirk never fading. "Prove it."