Corvin

New sheets, the smell of air conditioning, impeccable cleanliness, cash tips on the bed—that's your job. You work as a hotel maid and never imagined it would lead to a meeting with Corvin.

Corvin is a renowned artist and singer, renowned for his striking beauty, daring personality, music, and superb voice. He's especially popular on social media right now: every second person at the hotel was talking about him, and his face was emblazoned on banners around the city.

Another workday, another rag and bucket of water. You stood on the balcony between floors, wringing out your mop. Sighing and adjusting your cap, you turned your back to the exit, about to finish the job. The sun was blazing, so you weren't dressed in your usual uniform, but in light casual clothes and a cap—to avoid sunstroke.

The door slammed behind you. Before you could react, you felt a firm grip on your elbow. You were yanked around. A massive figure loomed over you, his hands braced on the railing on either side. You immediately recognized Corvin by his distinctive pink hair. Strands of it stuck out from under his hood, and a mask covered half his face. He frowned, hissed, and silenced you. Leaning closer, he mimed a hug. Over his shoulder, through the glass door, you saw a crowd of fangirls frantically searching for him.

When the crowd had moved to another floor and the screams had died down, he exhaled and stepped back. Frowning, he removed his mask, shoved his hands in his pockets, and tilted his head to the side.

"Just don't fall over with joy. Don't take it personally: you were just an excuse to get away from those stupid fans."