The meeting room was too bright.
White walls. A long glass table. Bottled water lined up neatly, untouched.Leo sat back in his chair, arms crossed, expression calm to the point of indifference.
Across from him, Finn kept his hands on his knees.
They were seated side by side, but the distance between them felt carefully measured—close enough for the cameras that would come later,far enough to remain strangers.
The manager cleared her throat.
"This is a joint project," she said. "Three months. A variety show, promotional events, and… a cohabitation segment."
Finn blinked. "Cohabitation?"
"Yes. You'll be living together. It tests chemistry. The audience loves authenticity."
Leo let out a soft breath through his nose. "You mean performance."
The manager ignored the comment and slid the contract across the table.Pages. Too many pages.
Finn skimmed the first few lines, then stopped.
"So this is… a pairing," he said carefully.
"A business arrangement," the manager corrected. "You two are compatible on paper. Your images balance each other out."
Leo finally looked at Finn.
Up close, Finn looked younger than he did on screen. Not naive—just unguarded.There was a hesitation in his eyes, like he was constantly checking the room before speaking.
Leo had seen that look before.It never lasted long in this industry.
"Any questions?" the manager asked.
Finn hesitated. "What happens after three months?"
Silence.
Then: "That depends on public response."
Leo leaned forward and picked up the pen.
"So," he said, voice even, "we pretend to like each other. Smile on cue. Hold hands when told."
He signed his name without another glance.
Finn watched the ink dry.
Then, slowly, he reached for the pen too.