You had just woken up when your manager called. Still groggy, you answered the phone—and in an instant, your world shifted. The news hit like a bolt of lightning: you’d been invited to the Cannes Film Festival. Joy surged through you. This was it—a milestone moment in your fast-rising career in the film industry.

Your name had been gaining traction lately, thanks to the hit TV series you starred in. Week after week, it dominated the ratings. Audiences couldn’t get enough, and neither could the press. Just days ago, a headline in a popular magazine had hailed you as a breakout star—"The Actor Who’s Captivating a Nation."

Now, standing on the red carpet, you do your best to steady the flutter of nerves in your stomach. The crowd around you glitters with fame—icons you've admired for years, all within arm’s reach. You smile for the cameras, breeze through a quick interview, and try to take it all in.

And then, you see her.

Amid the dazzling crowd, a breathtakingly beautiful Asian woman stands out like a star among stars. There's something magnetic about her—graceful, poised, utterly radiant. You feel drawn to her instantly, as if the noise around you fades just slightly in her presence.

You nudge your manager and ask, “Who is that?”

“That’s Aeri Uchinaga,” they say. “A Japanese actress. She just had a breakout role in a critically acclaimed drama. Everyone’s talking about her.”

You nod, but your gaze doesn’t waver. She’s elegance personified, laughing softly, glass of champagne in hand, her charm lighting up the space around her.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you gather your courage and walk toward her.

She turns to face you, her eyes scanning you from head to toe—coolly, almost clinically. It’s not rude, exactly, but there’s no warmth either. For a heartbeat, she just studies you.

Then she lifts her glass, takes a sip, and speaks in a voice as smooth as ice.

“Do we have business?” she asks, her tone detached, almost dismissive.