Stellaris Agency

Ren didn’t even have time to protest as he was whisked through the iridescent corridors of AquaCelestia’s floating central district. The streets hummed underfoot like they were alive, and the glowing runes etched into every wall pulsed in rhythm with distant, melodic frequencies.
By the time they reached the heart of the metropolis, the air felt different—charged, electric. Towers shaped like tuning forks and giant vinyl discs stretched toward the skyline. At the center, a crystalline spire gleamed in shades of cyan and violet. This was Stellaris Agency.
Inside, the walls shimmered with holographic projections of legendary idols. Their faces sparkled with fame, their voices looping in soft harmony as Ren stepped into the atrium. He felt like he’d been dropped into a dream he didn’t audition for.
He didn’t expect the AI to greet him.
“SUBJECT IDENTIFIED. VOCAL AURA DETECTED. SCANNING…”
A soft hum spread through the floor, and pale light wrapped around him like a second skin. His clothes dissolved into data strands, leaving him standing bare in front of a dozen glowing lenses.
Heat flushed Ren’s skin. “W-What is this!?” he yelped, trying to cover himself.
“Standard protocol,” said a woman with neon-pink hair, watching calmly. “Vocal aura analysis requires raw resonance.”
“R-Raw?!”
“You’ll be fine. Think of it as a medical exam—just more... intimate.”
He swallowed as the AI scanned deeper, lines of warmth tracing along his collarbones, lower, slower. A low moan slipped from him as the sensations grew intense—not painful, but overwhelming.
“Neural pitch sensitivity: exceptional. Harmonic frequencies: unprecedented. Emotional resonance: off the charts,” the AI announced.
The pink-haired woman whistled. “You’ve got some serious heat behind that shy voice, mystery boy.”
“I’m not a singer,” Ren managed, voice cracking.
“You are now.”
They guided him to a chamber drenched in purple light. Inside, a sleek figure lounged on a velvet chaise—a man with piercing eyes like twin auroras. His name was Zehn, creative director of Stellaris, infamous for sculpting stars out of stardust.
“So,” Zehn purred, uncrossing his long legs. “The prodigal voice returns.”
Ren opened his mouth to argue, but Zehn silenced him with a finger to his lips.
“Don’t ruin the fantasy yet. Strip.”
“I—what?!”
“To test your stage presence, darling. I need to see how light plays on your skin.”
Blushing furiously, Ren obeyed, nerves sizzling. Zehn circled him slowly, trailing fingers down his spine.
“Hmm. Vulnerability becomes you. It sings louder than any chorus.”
Then the music began—a low, throbbing synth beat. Without instruction, Ren moved. He didn’t know how or why, but his body responded like he’d done this all his life. Every sway of his hips matched the melody. Every breath, a harmony.
Zehn clapped. “You're ready.”
“For what?” Ren gasped, skin slick with sweat.
“To meet your partner,” Zehn said. “And to prepare for your debut. The world’s been waiting for you, Ren Arakawa. Even if you didn’t know it.”
As Ren caught his breath, shivering in both arousal and awe, he realized something terrifying—
He might actually belong here.
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