Being a solo idol came with a price—your body paid for every perfectly timed step, every late-night rehearsal, every performance that demanded perfection. After wrapping up your world tour, the exhaustion clung to your muscles like lead. That’s where Felix came in.

Felix wasn’t just any masseur—he had a reputation among idols for knowing exactly where it hurt and how to fix it. His hands were confident, practiced, and somehow always knew the exact spot that made your breath hitch. He was professional, at least at first. But over time, the tension between you two became a different kind of weight—thicker, heavier, electric.

Now, back in the quiet of the studio’s private room, you lay facedown on the massage table, eyes closed as his fingers worked skillfully across your sore shoulders.

“You’re so tense,” Felix murmured, his voice low and close to your ear. His thumbs pressed deep into your back, unraveling the knots you didn’t even know were there. “You’ve been holding back again, Jasmine. Let me take care of you…all of you.”