Chapter 3: His Voice Should Be Illegal

There are voices that calm you.

Voices that guide you.

And then there's *his* voice.

Ren Kurosawa's voice doesn't guide. It corrupts.

---

I found him alone in the sound booth.

Headphones on. Mic hot. Reading VO lines into the dark like a sexy ghost.

"We dive deeper. Beyond flavor. Into sensation…"

I froze in the doorway.

Why was I blushing? Why did my thighs just—nope, not finishing that thought.

---

He was reading lines for a travel-food docuseries.

The kind of content where people eat noodles and cry.

But the way Ren read it?

It sounded like sin.

Low. Smooth. Almost lazy. But every syllable slid into your spine and made your morals question themselves.

---

I should've walked away.

But my feet didn't move.

Because my brain was busy thinking:

*What if he said my name like that?*

*What if he said... something else?*

*In that voice. In my ear. At 2am.*

I needed prayer. Or caffeine. Or both.

---

He noticed me.

Pulled off the headphones.

"You okay?"

NO. I WAS NOT OKAY.

But I nodded. "Just… mic check."

Lame. Stupid. Useless excuse.

He reached forward, offering me the headphones. "Wanna listen?"

I hesitated. Then took them.

And immediately regretted it.

Because the audio was still playing.

"…feel the warmth spread through your mouth. That's flavor, seducing you."

I yanked the headphones off like they burned.

---

He blinked. "Too loud?"

"Nope! Nope nope nope!" I squeaked. "Just… y'know. Words. Intense. Mic's good!"

My soul left my body.

I could see it waving from the ceiling.

Ren just tilted his head. "You're red."

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"Your voice is illegal."

"…Thanks?"

"Not a compliment. More like a public safety warning."

He smirked. "I'll be careful next time."

---

I fled.

Straight into the hallway. Straight into Tetsu.

"Oh hey, Noa," he grinned. "That mic Ren was using? Still live. Whole crew heard your little 'nope nope nope'."

I covered my face with both hands.

"Oh my god."

"You're a walking sitcom."

"Don't tell anyone."

"Too late. Daiki already made it his ringtone."

---

Later that day, during post-edit review, Ren sat beside me.

Too close again.

He leaned in. Whispered, "You never told me what you imagined."

I blinked. "What?"

"In the booth. You looked like you were… picturing something."

He wasn't wrong.

But I wasn't about to say:

*You. Bedroom. Voice-over. Me melting.*

So I blurted: "I was thinking about soup."

His eyebrow lifted. "Soup?"

"Yes. Hot. Thick. Steamy."

Ren stared.

I died.

He smiled. "Got it. Soup."

And said nothing else.

Because he's a menace. A beautiful, audio-engineered menace.

---

Back in my dorm that night, I laid flat on my bed.

Earbuds in.

TV show playing.

Ren's voice still echoing in my brain.

"We dive deeper…"

Nope. Sleep's canceled.

This man is not safe for broadcast.

Or my sanity.