"Can I have your name?" the girl asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

  "Just call me Matsue," Jun replied, keeping a safe distance as she leaned over the counter.

  "Okay! I haven't seen you here before, Matsue-kun," she said, naturally adding the affectionate suffix.

  "I’m a high schooler. Just working a summer hustle."

  "Wait, you’re a freshman? I’m a college girl! Which school do you go to?" She became even more animated, her friend nudging her from behind.

  Jun gave her a guarded, "don't-push-it" look.

  "Ah, sorry! Too many questions." She started to apologize, but then her friend stepped out of the hallway.

  "Miri! You told me you were going to the restroom! I knew I’d find you here!"

  Jun hoped the friend would drag her away, but after a few whispered words, both girls turned back to him.

  The "Customer Service" session began. To keep them from digging into his private life, Jun took the lead, initiating polite, shallow conversation. Miri and her friend were floored. He was handsome, well-spoken, and actually acknowledged them—he was ten times better than the manufactured idols on stage.

  They began texting their group chats. Slowly, more girls started trickling out of the concert hall. They eventually formed an orderly line, self-regulating to a "five minutes per person" rule.

  Jun looked at his manager, who was watching with a wide, greedy grin. Is my job description changing right now? Jun wondered.

  "Aren't you supposed to be scanning tickets? What is this?" A familiar, icy voice cut through the chatter.

  "Hey! If you want to talk to Matsue-kun, get to the back of the line!" Miri, who had appointed herself the unofficial "line monitor," snapped at the newcomer.

  Haruka Mochizuki gave her a single, soul-withering look. Miri went silent instantly.

  "Do you have some kind of teleportation ability?" Jun asked, looking at Haruka. "Or are there just ten of you? I see you everywhere."

  "We just finished acquiring this venue's parent company," Haruka said, her expression as casual as if she’d just bought a crepe. "I’m here for a 'site inspection.'"

  "So," she continued, her voice dropping. "Why are you here entertaining a line of women?"

  "Manager told me to," Jun shrugged.

  Perfect, Haruka thought. I’ll fire that manager tomorrow. I’ll find a reason.

  Another person emerged from the hall—a woman in her late twenties, wearing an "Artist Management" badge. She was the head of the boy band’s agency. She walked to the front of the line, ignored Jun, and bowed deeply to the crowd.

  "We apologize that tonight’s performance did not meet your expectations. As compensation, we will hold a special 'Handshake Event' for Midori-kun next week. Everyone with a ticket from tonight gets three minutes of private time with him for free. Please continue to support Midori-kun!"

  If they hadn't seen Jun, the girls would have been screaming with joy. But right now, they were watching Jun’s mouth twitch into a small, amused smirk as he listened. It was a look a thousand times more captivating than any practiced idol smile.

  To prove their loyalty to their new obsession, one of the girls shouted back:

  "Are you deaf? Do you think every woman in here is a Midori stan? I bought a ticket just to have this guy scan it!"

  _____

  Buying a ticket just to get it scanned?

  The manager’s face went pale. It was a slap in the face to her professional pride. She took a deep breath and turned to Jun.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  "You’re disrupting our professional environment. Leave. Now," she snapped. She looked around for security.

  She intended to lay into the "lowly staffer," but as she looked at Jun’s face, her anger evaporated. She cleared her throat and tried again, her voice suddenly much softer.

  "Sir... you are inadvertently causing a disturbance. Could I ask you to... step away for the evening?" She was fighting for her life to keep her professional dignity intact against his sheer presence.

  "As much as I’d love to, I’m scheduled for the next shift’s intake," Jun said, giving her a small, apologetic smile as he glanced at his own manager, who was currently bowing and scraping to Haruka in the distance.

  "Oh. Okay," the woman whispered, her professional spirit officially dead.

  "Go away! Leave him alone!" the girls in line shouted. "Don't ruin our view!"

  Before she left, the manager—driven by some inexplicable impulse—handed Jun her business card with both hands.

  Jun took it, watched her disappear back into the hall, and went back to work. The line started moving again.

  A few minutes later, the manager reappeared at the front of the queue.

  "I realized... it’s quite boring backstage," she said, a blush creeping up her neck. "I thought I’d come and chat with Matsue-kun instead."

  Haruka reached out and pinched Jun’s waist from behind.

  Boss’s orders, Jun thought, stoically ignoring the pain. I guess I’m taking the hit.

  Meanwhile, on stage, the idol Midori-kun realized half his audience had vanished. He finished his set in a daze of confusion, returned to the dressing room, and found that even his own manager was missing.

  When the shift ended and the crowd cleared, Haruka took Jun’s seat at the booth. "I’ve decided you’re unfit for this position," she said, having hidden his staff cap. She was annoyed that he’d been surrounded by fans, but she saw her opening. If she could get him fired, she could "graciously" offer him a job as a live-in butler.

  "Boss, the next set is a girl group. It’ll be all guys; there won't be a riot. Just watch," Jun promised.

  Haruka had a chair brought over and sat right next to him.

  Ten minutes in, the guys started arriving. The network was working, and the intake was smooth. However, the male fans kept staring at Haruka instead of their phones. Unable to stand the attention, Haruka took her manager and left.

  Jun sat alone in the empty hall, bored.

  Suddenly, a girl in a mask walked out of the artist's tunnel.

  Right, girl groups have female fans too, Jun realized.

  The girl’s eyes lit up when she saw him. She walked over. "Are you a new trainee? Which group are you in? I haven't seen you around."

  "I’m staff," Jun said, sensing trouble. "I scan the tickets."

  "Wait, you’re a staffer?" The girl looked shocked. "I must have taken the wrong tunnel."

  Jun didn't reply, focusing on the diagnostic screen of his scanner. His long eyelashes cast soft shadows on his cheeks. As he looked down, the light caught the bridge of his nose, making him look like a cold, untouchable marble statue.

  The girl didn't leave. She took off her mask, staring at him. "You’re exactly my type. Have you ever thought about dating a celebrity?"

  "Dating?" Jun really wished he’d grabbed a spare hat.

  "Be my boyfriend! You won't have to work ever again; I’ll take care of you," she chirped. "We can get married in secret when I turn eighteen. I’ll make sure the 'safety protocols' are in place—unlike my senior, who ended up with two kids before she was twenty. You can spend all the money my fans give me while you sleep next to the 'Nation's Little Sister' every night. Tempting, isn't it?"

  "...Dispatch, this is Matsue. We have a stray talent in the intake hall. Requesting security," Jun said into his radio. He wasn't sure if he was protecting her or himself.

  "I’ll walk her back," Jun sighed as the radio crackled with a confused reply.

  He led the girl into the tunnel. The fan entrance led directly past the pit. Jun walked in front of her, trying to shield her with his body. It was dark, and he hoped the fans wouldn't notice their idol walking right past them behind a tall guy.

  But the closer they got to the stage, the more crowded it became. The girl put her mask back on and grabbed Jun’s arm, pressing her chest against his bicep.

  "Hey!" Jun hissed, looking back.

  "Sorry! Too many people!" she giggled.

  "Is that Haruyo-chan?" someone whispered. The heads began to turn.

  Jun quickened his pace, practically dragging her toward the stage.

  "Slow down, handsome!" the girl laughed. She ripped off her mask and waved to the crowd.

  "IT IS HER!" the pit erupted. The fans watched in horror as their "Pure Idol" clung to a man’s arm, disappearing into the backstage area.

  They burst into the green room and slammed the door. The other idols stared at them in shock.

  "Haruyo brought a guy back!"

  "I thought she was the 'Eternal Virgin'! Has the frost finally thawed?"

  "Great taste, girl. If you break up with him, can I borrow him for a weekend?"

  Outside, the sound of thousands of hearts breaking turned into a roar of pure, unadulterated rage. "MAKE HIM COME OUT!" they screamed.

  In the dressing room, the girl looked at Jun with mock-distress. "Oh no. I guess I’ll have to announce my retirement and get married immediately!"

  I should have just worked at a car wash, was Jun’s final thought.

  "Total failure," Haruka summarized later that night.

  "No argument here," Jun said, pulling his hat over his face in defeat.

  "You’re fired. Just come be my butler and be done with it." Before Jun could say no, Haruka turned and walked away.

  She climbed into the back of her limousine. Her aunt, Hana, was waiting for her. "Did you have a good time with him today?"

  "No. Did you have your check-up today, Auntie?"

  "Every day, just like you asked, Haruka-chan. I’m thinking of just having the doctor move into the guest room."

  Hana didn't understand why Haruka was so obsessed with her health, but she humored her niece.

  "If he makes you so unhappy, why do you keep chasing him?" Hana asked, pulling Haruka down to rest her head on her lap.

  "Why..." Haruka closed her eyes.

  Because her "System" had told her that Hana would die soon. And it told her that her own "shattered soul" would only survive if she stayed close to Matsue Jun.

  As the car sped into the darkness, Haruka remembered the "Dream."

  _____

  The first time Haruka Mochizuki saw Jun Matsue was at the Haneoka High opening ceremony.

  Jun was the freshman representative. The bright spring sun caught the edges of his plain black-and-white uniform, gilding him in a halo of light.

  After he stepped down, a girl in a white dress (Yuka) took the stage, but Haruka didn't hear a word she said. She was busy committing a name to memory.

  Mat-sue Jun. She tasted the syllables in her mind.

  Haruka didn't believe in love at first sight. But she had to admit: his face, his frame, and his voice were a perfect strike right in the center of her preferences.

  However, she was a Mochizuki. Her aunt had taught her that a lady of their house does not act on a whim. So, she tucked the name away in a corner of her heart.

  The next time she saw him wasn't in a hallway. It was in a Simulation.

  In the dream, Haruka was in the library. Jun was sitting right next to her, their shoulders almost touching. The boy had no books in front of him. He was simply resting his chin on his hand, watching her read.

  "Is there something on my face?" the dream-Haruka asked.

  "Before I met you," dream-Jun said softly, "my favorite thing in the world was the way the summer wind made the wheat fields look like green waves. It smelled like life."

  "And now?"

  "Now, looking at you is the only life I need."

  In the simulation, they had already known each other for a semester. From the very first day, Jun had pursued her with a burning, relentless passion. Every day, he fed her a new, beautiful line of poetry. Eventually, by the start of the summer break, the "Ice Queen" had melted.

  Jun didn't disappoint her. He fulfilled every romantic fantasy she had ever had. But there was one thing he wouldn't do.

  This boy, who seemed to have grown out of her very dreams, refused to touch her.

  "Why won't you sleep with me?" Haruka asked in the dream. They were cuddled together on a sofa, watching a movie. She had long since abandoned her "Mochizuki pride."