Chapter 15
The drive from Starling Media to HYU Entertainment's headquarters was mostly silent. Andre sat beside the driver, his attention fixed on the city rolling by through the tinted glass. He wasn't interested in small talk. The interview had taken longer than expected, and now, instead of heading home, he was being dragged to the company for "some work arrangements."
Mo Yue was in the backseat, scrolling through his phone with one leg casually crossed over the other, sunglasses still in place despite the dim interior. Every so often, he hummed a tune—off-key on purpose, Andre suspected—but otherwise said nothing to him.
When they arrived at HYU's glass-fronted building, the driver opened the car door for Mo Yue first, then for Andre. Inside, the lobby was bright, the marble floors reflecting the overhead lights. Staff members passing by greeted Mo Yue with polite bows and quick "Good afternoon, Mr. Mo."
Andre followed at a measured pace, hands in his pockets, not bothering to return any curious glances. His job was simple—assist. He wasn't here to make friends or insert himself into anyone's conversations.
They took the elevator up to the seventh floor. Manager Guo was already waiting outside the studio door, wearing his usual sharp-collared shirt and holding a clipboard.
"You're late," Guo said, though his tone held more weariness than reproach.
"Blame Starling Media," Mo Yue replied lazily, removing his sunglasses. "They kept asking questions like I was the only artist alive in this city."
Guo sighed, turning to Andre briefly. "So the assistant here? Good! on time. Nice for a start."
Andre gave a short nod. "Yes."
"Fine. You'll need to keep up. Mo Yue has a recording today for his upcoming show performance. Stay sharp."
They entered the recording studio, the air cool with the faint scent of coffee and soundproofed walls muting the world outside. Mo Yue slipped into the booth while technicians adjusted microphones. Guo leaned over to discuss the song schedule through the intercom.
Andre stood by the wall, watching the process without comment. He didn't need to involve himself. This was between Mo Yue and his team.
It was only when Mo Yue's voice broke through the quiet with: "Andre—get me a bottle of that imported mineral water, not the regular one," that he moved. Without a word, Andre fetched the bottle from the small fridge and handed it over.
Minutes later: "Andre, where's my scarf? The blue one."
Andre got the scarf.
Then: "Andre, my throat feels dry—slice up a lemon for me."
Andre complied, placing the lemon slices in a glass of warm water. His expression never shifted from indifferent calm.
But it didn't stop there. Between takes, Mo Yue's list of requests grew oddly specific.
"Adjust the studio chair for me—it's leaning wrong."
"Find me the pen I used this morning, the one with the gold tip."
"And—do we have the black hoodie I wore last Tuesday? I want it nearby."
By the sixth request, Andre was already moving before the words fully left Mo Yue's mouth. He wasn't slow. He wasn't lazy. But there was a line, and Mo Yue's next sentence pushed him over it.
"Also, Andre—if you could, swing by the convenience store downstairs and grab me that brand of candy they sell near the register. I can't focus without it."
Andre stopped mid-step. His voice, when it came, was calm but edged with a faint steel. "Mr. Mo, with respect, my job description didn't list grocery runs as part of studio recording."
The technicians in the room froze, their eyes flicking between the two. Mo Yue blinked, then leaned back in his chair with a slow smirk. "Oh? So you can talk when you want to."
"I talk when necessary," Andre replied evenly, his gaze steady. "You have an entire team here to handle the recording, and I'm here to assist you professionally. But you're capable of surviving a session without candy."
The silence that followed was heavy—but only for a moment. Mo Yue burst into laughter, the kind that echoed off the soundproof walls. "You're colder than you look. I like that."
Andre didn't answer. He simply returned to his spot by the wall, arms folded. The session continued, but the demands stopped.
By the end of the day, Mo Yue emerged from the booth, tossing his scarf over his shoulder. "Not bad for a first day," he said lightly, glancing at Andre. "You might last longer than the others."
Andre gave the faintest shrug. "We'll see."
And with that, they left the studio—Mo Yue still smiling to himself, and Andre quietly wondering just how many days this job would test his patience.