【Somehow approved】

The moon hung low over the quiet street, casting a soft blue light on the road. Akira staggered out of the studio, his body trembling from the exhaustion. I hate dancing.

A car parked near him flashed its headlights. He squinted under the light as the car gave out a faint sense of nostalgia. I didn't text—maybe she waited the whole time...

Peering inside through the window, he found the backseat empty. Relieved.

"The front seat." His aunt's voice called out from the driver's seat.

Akira flinched and slid into the passenger side. With the thud from the door, the engine hummed, pulling out onto the road.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he mumbled.

"It's fine..." She smiled softly.

"You should have let the driver come today as well..." Akira looked at her for a moment before diverting his gaze out of the window.

 "I hadn't seen you in a while." She shrugged, slowly spinning the wheel to take the turn. "How was your day?"

"I—It was great.... I had to practise dancing." He chuckled.

"Great and practice don't go together, for you." She smirked – the same kind of smirk he had picked up.

He leaned back into the seat. "It was nice."

"Let's have dinner at the family manor. You can stay the night."

His hair fell onto his face, covering his eyes while he peered at her through the strands. 

She caught a glimpse of him and laughed softly. "Didn't I tell you to change this habit of staring? I can still read you. Fine, dinner at your apartment then."

Ah, there she goes again. 

He shifted in his seat, restless. "I met a really pretty girl today."

"Is that so?" She didn't even flinch.

"I might hook up with her." He smirked, eyes fixed on her. Craving a reaction, any reaction, from this woman.

"Akira, why are you dead set on ruining your reputation?" She spoke without even sparing him a glance.

"Haaaah?" He chuckled and scooted closer to her. Flicking her hair. "Jealous?"

She pushed him away with one hand. "Jealous of a failure? No, thank you."

He took her hair, rubbing the black strands between his fingers. His mind drifted back to the practice and Mitsuru's words. I can't keep pretending not to know about whatever was written on that contract.

He sighed, still twirling her hair. "The modelling sponsor – what was that?"

"I gave them an approval."

"But what am I supposed to do?"

"It's a clothes brand. You've modelled for mine before, so you can do it. The Zeros arranged it; the brand was interested after seeing Kyroxfun's popularity and your pictures."

"P-photographs? on the socials?" 

She exhaled sharply. "No, I gave your real pictures."

He snapped. "Without my consent?"

"You are about to show your face to the world." She added sharply.

"I wanted to ask about it...the whole face-showing plan isnt made public—"

She reached for his hair, her fingers sliding through to fix a strand. "I see no problem. So you shouldn't, either."

"B-but what if they recognise me?"

"Didn't you pick this route of your life? Well, your fans adore you; do it for them." She rubbed her hand on his shoulder.

"Well, I am not doing this for the fans." He scraped his nail against the door panel. "I am doing this for you!" 

"If you were doing this for me, you wouldn't have tried to distance yourself." She chuckled. 

He bit his lip. 

"Well, not like you are succeeding in doing that." She poked his cheek and continued driving.

The entire road, the two remained quiet. 

Akira lost his will to bother her, and she – well, she hardly talked more than needed. 

The next morning, a faint smell of baked bread spread around Akira's apartment. Half asleep, he tried to sit up. He glanced out of the window; a pair of sparrows were chirping outside the wooden window.

The door slid open – he jolted up. 

Then remembered – he wasn't alone.

His aunt walked in; she handed him a paper bag. "After you shower, wear these. I think they were made for you."

He tightened his hand around the bag, crumpling the edges.

His aunt paid no attention and walked away. He reached for her wrist, but his fingers only brushed against hers.

She stopped and turned to him. But he shook his head.

I hate dressing in these.

After a while he joined her. 

Dressed in a white silk shirt with some embroidery and frills. She was fond of the ouji aesthetic, so most of Akira's clothes, which she bought, were in that peculiar taste.

With his hair tied back, he stood in front of her while she admired the dress.

"Next time, you gift me one of these." Akira slumped into the chair. "I am burning them."

Noticing her expression, he adjusted his posture.

"The manager at The Zeros called. They want you to start private streams or one-on-one streams for the high-paying supporters." She kept looking at him while she took a sip of her tea.

"Eww, I don't want to. What if they ask for weird things?" 

"Eww? Are you a kindergartner?" She placed her cup on the table.

Something struck him; his eyes went blank. "Why did you take the call?"

She didn't answer.

"I thought you arranged the modelling sponsor, but it was arranged by The Zeros. Then how did you approve it?"

"Because I just handle the things you aren't good at." She narrowed her eyes at him; a smile crept over her face. "And besides, you are good at anything; your fans will ask."

His eye twitched. "Are you insulting me?"

She cupped his face and kissed his forehead. "I could never. If you feel uncomfortable with private streams, then don't do it. But the contract is signed."

She gave him a gentle smile while brushing her fingers on his cheek.

He pressed his hand on hers.

Am I still worthless?

He froze and moved her away.

She watched him silently. Then, smiled. "Oh, so you did meet a pretty girl." 

"It's not about any pretty girls."

Silence.

"If this person leaves you, too." She sighed, picking up her bag. "You know where to find me."

She walked out of the door, leaving him alone.