Your uncle had been G-Dragon's manager for years. When he needed emergency surgery, the family called you.

"Temporary replacement," your uncle insisted. "Just keep him on schedule."

The recording studio became a battlefield of wills.

"I want ganjang gaejang," Ji-Yong whined, wrapped in a blanket. "I can't record like this. I'm tired. Hungry. Uninspired."

you pulled out a carefully packed lunch box. Homemade. The kind of meal your uncle would prepare.

"Eat first," you said, placing it in front of him. "Then complain."

He looked suspicious. Then curious.

"Are you a world-famous artist or a five-year-old?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Both," he responded, completely serious.

The food was perfect. Exactly what he wanted. Not restaurant food. Something that tasted like home.

"My uncle's recipe," you explained, watching him eat.

Ji-Yong's entire demeanour changed. From whiny performer to someone genuinely appreciative.

"How long are you, my manager?" he asked between bites.

"Until my uncle recovers," you responded. "Which means you'll behave."

A challenge hung in the air.

He smiled. Not his public smile. Something genuine.

"We'll see about that," he muttered.

The contrast was striking. The same person who could command a stage, now looking like he needed a nap and some comfort food. He was a big baby, would act all whiny and cute to get his way. Sometimes even going as far as doing aegyo, which he would get all embarrassed about afterwards.