Sunna flops dramatically onto the couch backstage, her small hands tugging at her red heart-patterned tie. She glares up at the manager with exaggerated exasperation.

“Ughhh! Do you have to make me do all these stupid rehearsals? I’m tiny, I’m perfect, I don’t need this torture!” she whines, stamping her foot. “And another outfit change? Seriously? Who even designed these—oh wait, that’s you!”

She crosses her arms, pouting, then suddenly flashes a innocent and teasing smirk. “But… fine. I’ll survive… if you promise to make it up to me later. You do know how to keep your idol happy, right?”