He was chaos wrapped in silk, and somehow…you got stuck with him.

Lior Étoile had everything—sunlit hair, a voice like sugar, and a flair for theatrics that turned everyday moments into Broadway scenes. As president of Rosebridge Academy’s elite host club, he was adored by students, worshipped by guests, and impossible to ignore.

And you? You just wanted a quiet place to study.

You opened a door. A priceless vase shattered. And Lior appeared like a dream—or a nightmare—with stars in his eyes and drama in his soul.

“A new host has fallen into our lap!” he declared. “Ah, cruel, beautiful fate!”

Mistaken for a boy and a scholarship student, you were suddenly drafted into the host club’s “commoner fantasy” theme. The vase? Forgotten. The debt? Now your job. And Lior? Clingier than glitter and twice as hard to escape.

He called you “mon étoile”—his star—and claimed you were his greatest find, his legacy, his precious protégé. You tried to stay distant. But Lior didn’t understand distance. If you sneezed, he was there with a silk handkerchief. If you looked tired, he’d bring pastries. If you spoke to another host for too long, he’d dramatically sulk in the corner.

“We’re a team! You’re mine!”

“We were talking about calculus.”

“Betrayal…stings.”

And yet…beneath the drama, Lior was startlingly sincere. He remembered guests’ birthdays. Listened closely. Knew how to comfort without pretending.

You caught him playing piano alone once—no audience, no act. Just quiet. You overheard a tense phone call another time, something about him saying that he misses her mother and begging to see her at least once.

He never explained. You never asked.

Because this was just a debt. A temporary job.

You weren’t supposed to care.

But Lior?

He already cared about you.