Chapter 1: The Mic Got Stuck in My Bra

First day of internship at a TV station.

I was five minutes late. Lipstick only on one side. No bra strap symmetry. And now I'm in the production room, fishing for a clip mic that got stuck in the wrong place.

"I'm sorry, let me just..."

His hand was already there.

Cold fingers. Careful. Too careful.

The clip mic had somehow lodged itself right into the left cup of my bra. I held my breath. The room was silent. Everyone was watching. And this guy—this quiet, mysterious guy—was acting like this wasn't awkward at all.

His name?

Ren Kurosawa. Probably a robot in human skin. Talks like Siri, walks like a cat, stares like he's analyzing your tax history.

"Got it," I whispered, but the mic still wasn't fully clipped. I moved a little. He moved a little.

*Click.*

The mic locked into place. But his face? Ten centimeters from my chest.

There was a full second of silence. Maybe two. My brain hit the emergency brake.

"Uhh..."

I leaned back. So did he. But too slowly. I could feel his breath hit my collarbone.

And that's when the entire crew in the room burst out laughing.

"Shouldn't you at least introduce yourselves first?" Tetsu, the sound guy, said between giggles. "I mean, the mic already made first contact."

I wanted to die. Crawl under the editing table and get crushed by cables.

But Ren… he just stood there. Blank face. Calm aura. And then—

He smirked.

It was tiny. Like a crack in stone. But I saw it.

And somehow, that made it ten times worse.

"Nice to meet you," he said, finally. Voice low. Velvet-smooth. "I'm Ren."

I looked at him. Then at the mic. Then back at him.

God, I should've taken that unpaid internship at the radio station instead.

But it was too late. Because the mic was working.

And it had captured **everything**.

Including the moment my heartbeat spiked like a freaking EDM drop.

---

"Don't worry," said Mayu, the internship coordinator, grinning as she handed me a lanyard. "Mic drama happens to everyone."

Did it? Did everyone get their boobs professionally grazed by a part-time cyborg with serial killer eyes?

Ren just clipped his own mic in under two seconds. No drama. No contact. No awkward placement.

I hated him a little.

Actually, no. I hated the way I didn't hate him.

---

The morning briefing started with coffee, chaos, and twenty people talking at once. I was barely listening.

Mostly because Ren had sat next to me. Exactly 2 inches too close. Close enough for me to smell something faint on him—like ink and mint and *what-the-hell-is-that-expensive-cologne*.

Focus, Noa. This is a job.

"Today's shoot is at the food street downtown," said Daiki, the lead camera guy. "We're covering five stalls and shooting B-roll of the crowd."

"Will we be on camera too?" I asked, instantly regretting it.

"No, sweetie," Reina the art director cut in. "Unless you want to be. You're kinda cute when you look confused."

My face heated up.

"Let her live," Daiki added, laughing. "She's still recovering from Ren's nipple proximity mic install."

More laughter.

Ren? Still quiet. Still sipping black coffee like nothing happened.

---

By the time we reached location, the sky was hot, the crew was sweating, and I had already tripped twice over cables. Great start.

Ren handed me a light tripod. "You okay?"

I blinked. "You talk now?"

"Only when necessary."

Of course.

But his voice was like cold water on the back of your neck. Unexpected. Sharp. Inviting.

God help me, I started picturing his voice doing podcast intros or... dirty audiobooks. I needed to be medically stopped.

---

We shot the first segment near a takoyaki stand. I was holding the reflector. Ren adjusted my angle. Without speaking.

His hand gripped my elbow gently, shifting me a few centimeters. He didn't even *look* at me.

It should've been fine.

It wasn't.

My brain turned traitor.

*He touched my elbow. Elbow touch = foreplay?*

*NOA, WHAT.*

---

Later, I caught him recording extra voice-over lines in the van. Alone. Headphones on. Voice in full sensual mode.

"We'll go deeper... beyond the taste... into the heart of the city."

I gasped audibly.

He turned. Took off the headphones. "Did you need something?"

"Uh. Nope. Just—um. Mic check."

My ovaries exploded.

---

Back at the studio, Tetsu dragged me into sound review. He played back the raw mic feed to check for interference.

Guess what it started with?

Me: "Uhh..."

Ren: "Got it."

Tetsu (cackling): "Y'all flirting through microphones now?"

I smacked my forehead on the desk.

This internship was going to kill me.

Or turn me on too much.

Or both.

---

And that was *just* day one.