"Hey! What's going on, rookie? You've made a complete fool of me!"
"S-sorry!"
Inside a taxi speeding home after a long day of work, Rima Harima—the brand-new manager at Amagasaki Office—was shrinking under the furious glare of Mutsuki Amagasaki.
"Why the hell didn't you wake me up properly? That's exactly why I ended up late for the shoot!"
"N-no, I swear I did wake you up! Multiple times!"
"Huh? If I wasn't awake, then obviously you failed! Tch."
"No way... I tried so many times..."
Rima clutched her clipboard tighter, her knuckles turning white. The handover documents had warned her that Mutsuki was notoriously difficult to rouse in the morning, but nothing could have prepared her for this level of denial and rage.
Mutsuki clicked her tongue loudly, her irritation practically radiating heat in the confined space of the cab. Beside her, Rima felt sweat trickle down her back despite the air conditioning.
"I'll let it slide and say you caused this disaster," Mutsuki continued venomously, "but the least you could do is fix my hair and makeup in the car on the way to the set!"
"I-I can't do that! At school we studied management, scheduling, and client relations, but hair styling and professional makeup were never part of the curriculum... I don't think I could even do my own makeup properly in a moving vehicle, let alone the precise look required for a magazine photoshoot."
"Huh?" Mutsuki's eyes widened in disbelief. "Normally you'd arrive on location, throw on the outfit, and be camera-ready immediately. That's why I sleep until the absolute last second. How is this my fault?"
Rima took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Well... that's not how it usually works. Talents are supposed to arrive early so the dedicated hair and makeup artists can take their time perfecting everything..."
Mutsuki stared at her as if she'd grown a second head. Then her expression twisted into contempt.
"What? So you're saying I'm wrong? I'm the one actually working in the entertainment industry here. You must have lied about those 'excellent grades' to sneak into Amagasaki Agency, huh?"
"No, that's not true at all..."
"Sigh..." Mutsuki pinched the bridge of her nose dramatically. "I don't want to hear another word of excuses. I'll be generous and overlook this mess since you're still a rookie. But next time... you'll fully understand the consequences of screwing up, got it? There are countless people lining up to replace someone like you."
The idol's cold glare pierced straight through Rima, who could only nod frantically, her throat dry with fear.
(Why am I the one being torn apart like this? Yes, the talent arrived late and I failed to manage the schedule properly... but treating morning wake-ups like childcare isn't normal! I thought joining this agency would let me learn from experienced professionals, but the one person who knew everything just up and vanished... Those handover files were incredibly detailed, but I was thrown straight into the fire without time to study them. And handling all seven sisters alone? Impossible. Five-senpai... please come back...)
○ ●
"It's so damn annoying. Why do I have to take heat because of that incompetent newbie?"
Mutsuki grumbled loudly as she stormed through the front door, kicking off her shoes with unnecessary force. They clattered against the wall.
She had absolutely no clue that her entire mindset was completely inverted.
"At times like this, there's only one thing that helps."
Fresh from work, she made a beeline for the kitchen and flung open the refrigerator door.
"Oh, there we go."
She pulled out a cold can of beer.
Mutsuki was eighteen—the same age as her former brother Atsumu—so underage drinking was, of course, illegal.
"Now that he's gone, I can finally drink in peace again. Every single time I reached for a can, he'd pop up out of nowhere and snatch it away. So freaking annoying."
Grabbing a bag of snacks for good measure, she headed upstairs to her room.
Once inside, she dumped the snacks on her desk, cracked open the beer with a sharp "psh," and downed half the can in one long pull.
The brother who had always gently but firmly stopped her was no longer around.
"Phew... nothing beats alcohol after a rough day. You seriously can't survive in this cutthroat entertainment world without it. Lately it's Asterisk this, Asterisk that—nonstop. So irritating. All those fans hyping them up clearly have zero taste."
Public sentiment overwhelmingly favored the rival idol group Asterisk. Mutsuki's own group, Prism Prison, enjoyed popularity, but it paled in comparison.
For someone like Mutsuki, whose entire identity revolved around being number one, this gap was utterly unforgivable.
"I guess I'll throw up a quick selfie on Photogram. That should feed the monkeys and keep them cheering."
She thought of her fans as nothing more than trained monkeys whose sole purpose was to adore and serve her.
Lately, however, she'd grown dependent on the rush of likes, comments, and notifications to fill the void and distract herself from frustrations.
"The beer's tasting kinda off tonight... better not show my face too clearly. Caption... yeah. 'Something super annoying happened today, but I didn't do anything wrong at all.' Perfect. Snap the selfie, post it. This is guaranteed to blow up by tomorrow."
Muttering to herself, Mutsuki reached for her second can.
She kept drinking steadily until the edge wore off and exhaustion took over. Eventually, she passed out on her bed, phone still in hand.
The idol had no idea—no idea at all—that this careless, vaguely complaining post would ignite a massive firestorm in the days to come.