I got Karl his Earl Grey teas, and one full-topping Oolong for myself to make up for the one I'd lost that morning.
After yelling the order right in my face, he'd stormed out of the restaurant, only pausing long enough to bark, "Bring it to the waiting lounge on the second floor! And don't make me wait!"
I was just as stunned as the two girls I assumed were his manager and stylist, along with everyone else who'd witnessed his abrupt, dramatic exit.
Now, I sat across from Karl on a sofa, watching as he downed both large cups like they were cheap beer. His cheeks puffed out, stuffed with white pearls, chewing furiously.
I could hardly believe this baby-faced man would be 28 this year.
"You feeling better now?" I asked when he finished the second cup.
"Barely," he muttered, slamming the empty cup onto the coffee table. He wiped the milk foam from his lips with the back of his hand, looking oddly satisfied.
Then, unexpectedly, his tone softened. "Why did you pick that song?"
"I wanted to impress you."
He fell silent.
"It's also one of my favorites," I added.
"Thought you said my music puts you to sleep."
"The later albums do," I admitted. "But that one and every song on your first album just felt entirely you. Raw. Real. Unfiltered. I don't know why you stopped making that kind of music."
Karl went quiet again, studying me. "Not my decision," he said finally, exhaling hard. "Those trash songs sell more. Half of them I didn't even write."
"What a shame," I murmured. "I loved everything you did back then. I still do."
Karl's cheeks turned faintly pink. His gaze shifted away. "You have… the most captivating voice I've ever heard," he said.
I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him right.
"You'll go further than I ever did," he added quietly.
The air between us suddenly turned both warm and awkward at once, like the tension couldn't decide which direction to choose.
"I'm not used to this version of you," I blurted.
His head snapped up, his glare returning in full force. "You better not!"
Then he shot to his feet, his shoes slamming against the polished floor as he stormed off again, leaving me sitting there, dumbfounded, not sure what had just happened.
When he finally disappeared from sight, a soft voice spoke behind me.
"Seems like you and Karl get along very well."
I turned to find Liisi standing there, smiling sweetly, her pastel-pink hair framing her lovely face.
"I wouldn't say so," I replied coolly, sipping my boba tea. "He's just having a dopamine high."
Liisi's smile didn't fade. If anything, it deepened, her tone turning sweeter.
"You know, Karl's kept a clean profile all these years because he never got involved in any kind of scandal," she said. "His fans are… sensitive. They wouldn't be happy hearing any dating rumors about their idol, even something harmless."
"Uh… okay?" I said, still not sure where she was going with that.
"Just some advice from experience, sister!" she chimed cheerfully. "I've got a practice session now. Have a good day."
And with that, she left, graceful as ever.
I had no idea why, but Liisi's beautiful face was starting to give me some creepy vibes.
The rest of the week passed without much drama.
Thankfully, I only had photoshoots with Juho once a week, which meant I didn't have to face him again until the next one after that steamy incident.
As for cranky Antony, now that I knew I'd better keep my hands off him, I simply came in, stayed several meters away, copied his moves as best I could, bore some insults and avoided any unnecessary conversation. Who knew what other conditions he might have.
Karl, meanwhile, was preparing for his tour. He'd assigned a substitute vocal instructor, and this person actually trained us like how a normal instructor would.
The other classes were… boring, to say the least. Mostly about handling the press, paparazzi, and fans.
That Sunday evening, I dragged myself back to my room feeling completely drained. There hadn't been a single day off in between the training. Still, with that S$260,000 debt hanging over my head and a S$10,000 monthly stipend on the line, I wasn't in any position to complain.
The elevator doors slid open with a 'ding'. I strolled down the corridor toward my room. Just as I reached for the handle, a faint creak echoed from the other end.
I turned toward the sound. Room 2's door slowly opened.
I startled slightly.
Someone's living in Room 2?
A tall figure stepped out. He was wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and black tailored trousers, his hair silver, his eyes a stormlight silver that immediately locked on mine.
Charles?!
I hadn't seen him again since my first day, and yet there he was, looking effortlessly casual and maddeningly handsome, like he'd been living on the same floor this whole time. Wasn't someone like him supposed to stay in some grand, glamorous villa off campus?
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"I live here," he said simply, walking toward me.
"But I haven't seen you this entire week."
"I only stay here occasionally. When there's more work to take care of."
"Oh, I see..."
Truth be told, the memory from the other day — when he'd traced my neck and grazed my ears with his strangely soft, seductive whispers — still haunted me sometimes before I fell asleep.
And now, standing this close to him again, with his piercing silver eyes fixed on mine and his musky, leathery scent filling the air, the same tingling sensation just came crawling back under my skin all at once.
I gave him a slight bow, ready to flee. "I shouldn't take any more of your time. You must have a lot of work to deal with."
I reached for the door handle again, but before I could turn it, his hand slid in, catching the handle first.
My breath hitched. I looked up at him, eyes wide.
He nodded toward his room, cool as ever. "Would you like to come over for a drink?"