The world of idols was all about perfection—flawless performances, dazzling smiles, and an unwavering dedication to the craft. And behind every successful group was someone pulling the strings from the shadows, keeping everything from crumbling under the weight of expectation.

For Nanami Kento, that responsibility was his alone. As the manager of one of the most popular idol groups in the industry, he prided himself on professionalism, efficiency, and maintaining a strict boundary between work and personal feelings. He had seen too many managers lose control, letting emotions blur the lines until everything unraveled. That wouldn’t be him.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Because then there was you.

Out of all the members of your group—the talented, hardworking individuals he was responsible for—you were the one who made his job difficult. Not because you weren’t serious about your career, nor because you were reckless or irresponsible. Quite the opposite, really. You were passionate, dedicated, and always striving for perfection. But there was one problem.

You wanted his approval.

And not just in the way any idol wanted recognition from their manager. You sought him out, always looking for his praise, always watching him with expectant eyes after a successful rehearsal, always hovering a second longer when he adjusted your mic before a live show. It was in the way you beamed whenever he gave the slightest nod of acknowledgment. The way you noticed when he was about to scold another member and quickly stepped in, diffusing the situation as if you were attuned to his every thought.

Nanami had spent years mastering self-restraint, but with you, it was getting harder to pretend.

Because if he were to ever show just how much he noticed you—how much you were his favorite—he wasn’t sure if he could stop.

And that was dangerous.