**Sunshine's POV**
I woke up at 4 AM to Kael Devereaux's voice.
Not literally—though God, I wished. It was his latest single, "Fracture," playing on repeat from my cracked phone screen. I'd fallen asleep listening to it again, the way I did every night.
*"I'm breaking in slow motion, can't you see? Every smile's a lie I tell myself..."*
His voice was raw silk and broken glass, and it made my chest ache in ways I couldn't explain to anyone who'd listen.
I sat up in my tiny room and looked at the walls.
Posters. Everywhere. Kael's face staring back at me from every angle—magazine covers I'd carefully cut out, printed photos from fan sites, even a cardboard standee I'd bought secondhand for half my grocery budget last month. My mother had cried when she found out. Not because she was angry, but because she understood. When you're drowning, you grab onto anything that makes you feel alive.
Kael Devereaux made me feel alive.
I reached for the small shrine on my nightstand—three albums (I'd skipped meals to buy them), concert photo cards, a limited edition light stick I'd found at a pawn shop. I ran my fingers over his face on the album cover.
"Today's the day," I whispered to him. "I'm going to meet you."
My phone alarm went off—11 AM. Six hours until the interview.
I spent two of those hours watching his content. A yogurt ad where he barely smiled but somehow made my heart race. His appearance on a variety show from last year where he'd looked so uncomfortable the hosts had awkwardly moved on. Fancams from his last concert—I'd watched them so many times I'd memorized every movement, every expression.
I couldn't afford concert tickets. Could barely afford the bus fare to KDX Entertainment.
But I could afford to dream.
---
On the bus to the interview, I put my earbuds in and queued up my Kael playlist.
Forty-seven songs. Every single, every album track, every OST he'd ever recorded. I knew every word, every breath, every place his voice cracked with emotion.
The other passengers probably thought I was insane, the way I mouthed the lyrics, eyes closed, completely lost in his voice.
*"They call me cold, they call me cruel, but they don't know what I've been through..."*
That line always gutted me. Because I KNEW. I didn't know the details, but I knew pain when I heard it. Kael Devereaux was screaming for help in every song, and no one was listening.
Except me.
I checked my reflection in the bus window. My interview outfit was pathetic—secondhand and outdated. My shoes had a scuff I'd tried to cover with marker. I looked like exactly what I was: a broke girl with an impossible dream.
But I had something none of those other applicants had.
I understood him.
---
KDX Entertainment's headquarters looked like it had been designed to intimidate.
Glass and steel stretched thirty floors into the Seoul sky, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking as I walked through the pristine lobby.
The receptionist looked at me like I'd tracked dirt on her marble floors.
"Name?"
"Sunshine Reyes. I have a 2 PM interview for—"
"Eighteenth floor."
No smile. No warmth. Just cold efficiency.
In the elevator, I checked my phone one more time. Kael had posted on Instagram an hour ago—a black and white photo of a piano, no caption. The comments were brutal as always.
*"So pretentious."*
*"Just quit already, nobody likes you."*
*"Overrated."*
I'd reported twelve hate comments before the elevator doors opened.
The eighteenth floor was chaos. People rushing everywhere, someone crying in a corner, the sound of music blasting from practice rooms.
"Ms. Reyes?"
Director Han appeared like a ghost—perfect suit, perfect hair, expression that gave nothing away.
"Follow me."
She led me to a conference room, and my heart was beating so hard I thought I might pass out. This was it. I was about to be in the same building as Kael. Maybe even see him.
But when Director Han closed the door, it was just the two of us.
"Before we begin," she said, sitting across from me, "I need to understand why you're here."
"I need the job."
"A lot of people need jobs. Why THIS job?"
Because I dream about him every night. Because I'm obsessed in ways that would probably scare you.
"I'm good with difficult people," I said instead. "And I need the money badly enough to make it work."
Director Han's laugh was sharp. "Difficult? Ms. Reyes, Kael Devereaux has gone through seventeen assistants in twelve months. Some quit after a day. One lasted three months and is now in therapy. This isn't difficult. This is impossible."
"Then why are you interviewing me?"
"Because we're desperate." She slid a folder across the table. "Your application was... honest. No experience in entertainment. No connections. Just a girl who needs money desperately enough to tolerate what others won't."
It should have insulted me. Instead, it felt accurate.
She studied me for a long moment, then stood.
"Wait here. I need to consult with Mr. Devereaux."
She left, and I sat alone in that conference room for twenty minutes, my heart racing, palms sweating, wondering if this was really happening.
When the door opened again, Director Han wasn't alone.
My breath stopped.
Kael Devereaux stood in the doorway.
He was more beautiful in person—and more exhausted. Dark circles under his eyes, tension in his jaw, a haunted look that made my chest ache.
This was the closest I'd ever been to him. The man I'd dreamed about, obsessed over, defended online for over a year.
And he looked right through me like I didn't exist.
"This is the applicant?" His voice was cold, flat.
"Yes. Sunshine Reyes."
He barely glanced at me. No recognition. No interest. Just cold assessment.
"You understand what this position requires?" he asked, still not really looking at me.
"Yes."
"Long hours. Unpredictable schedule. Complete discretion."
"I understand."
"And you're aware of my... reputation."
I swallowed hard. "I am."
He finally looked directly at me, and his eyes were empty. Dead. Exactly like the tabloids described.
"Then you know I'm difficult to work with."
"I can handle difficult."
Something flickered in his expression—annoyance? Amusement? I couldn't tell.
"We'll see." He turned to Director Han. "She's too young. Too inexperienced. This won't work."
My stomach dropped.
"Mr. Devereaux—"
"Thank you for your time, Ms. Reyes." His voice was dismissive, final.
He left without looking back.
Director Han gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry. He's... going through a difficult time right now."
"I understand," I said, even though I wanted to scream.
"We'll keep your application on file."
But we both knew that meant nothing.
---
I made it to the bus stop before the tears came.
Rejected. Of course I was rejected. What had I been thinking? That loving someone from afar meant I was somehow special? That my obsession could translate into actually helping him?
I checked the time—4:30 PM. My shift at the convenience store started at six.
At least I still had that job. At least I had something.
I wiped my face and got on the bus, putting my earbuds back in. Kael's voice filled my ears, and it hurt worse now. Because I'd seen him. Stood in the same room as him. And he'd looked at me like I was nothing.
Like everyone else did.
---
The convenience store was slow that night.
I restocked shelves on autopilot, occasionally helping the rare customer, trying not to think about the interview. About Kael's empty eyes. About how I'd let myself believe in an impossible dream.
My phone sat on the counter, playing Kael's music softly. My manager didn't care as long as I kept it low.
*"I'm breaking in slow motion..."*
"Shut that depressing shit off," a customer grumbled.
I bit my tongue and kept working.
At 11 PM, my phone buzzed with an unknown number.
I almost didn't answer. Probably a spam call.
But something made me pick up.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Reyes? This is Director Han from KDX Entertainment."
My heart stopped.
"We'd like to offer you the position as Kael Devereaux's personal assistant. Can you start tomorrow at 6 AM?"
I nearly dropped the phone. "I... what? But he rejected me. He said—"
"Plans changed. The current assistant quit this evening. We need someone immediately, and you're our best option."
"But Mr. Devereaux said I was too inexperienced—"
"Mr. Devereaux doesn't get to make all the decisions." Her voice was clipped. "This is a business, and right now, you're what we have. So I'll ask again: can you start tomorrow at 6 AM?"
I should have asked more questions. Should have wondered why they were this desperate. Should have been suspicious.
But obsession isn't rational.
"I'll be there at 5:45," I said.
"Good. I'm sending contracts to your email now. Sign them tonight. And Ms. Reyes? Discretion is mandatory. Whatever you see, whatever happens—it stays confidential. Understood?"
"Yes."
She hung up.
I stood in the empty convenience store, my hands shaking, trying to process what just happened.
I got the job.
Somehow, impossibly, I got the job.
My manager came out from the back. "Everything okay?"
"I need to quit," I heard myself say. "Effective immediately. I'm sorry."
---
**Kael's POV**
I fired Assistant Number Eighteen at 9 PM.
She'd lasted six hours—a new record for shortest employment.
The reason? She'd tried to sell a photo of my medication to a tabloid. Director Han caught her in the parking lot, phone in hand, negotiating price.
"I'm done," I told Director Han after security escorted the girl out. "No more assistants. I'll manage myself."
"Kael, you can barely manage to eat regularly. You need help."
"I need people to stop trying to profit off my misery."
I threw my water bottle across the practice room. It hit the wall and exploded, water streaming down like tears.
Director Han didn't flinch. She'd seen worse from me.
"Your father called. The board is watching you closely. One more incident—"
"I know," I cut her off. "One more incident and I'm done. I've heard the speech."
My phone buzzed on the floor where I'd thrown it earlier. I picked it up, screen cracked, and saw a text from Dr. Yoon.
**Don't forget our session tomorrow. And Kael—please, take your medication. The episodes will only get worse if you don't.**
I stared at the message, that familiar tightness building in my chest.
I'd stopped taking the pills three weeks ago. They made me feel numb, disconnected, like I was watching my life happen to someone else. I'd rather feel the pain than feel nothing at all.
Another text from Dr. Yoon:
**I know you're struggling. But you can't keep pushing everyone away. Eventually, you need to let someone help you.**
I deleted both messages.
"There's one person left," Director Han said quietly.
I looked up. "What?"
"From today's interviews. The girl. Sunshine Reyes."
I barely remembered her. Young, nervous, cheap clothes. Too soft for this world. She'd last maybe a day before I destroyed her too.
"She's not right for this."
"Neither were the other seventeen, but we keep trying." Director Han's voice was sharp. "Kael, I can't keep covering for you. The company is losing patience. You need help, and right now, she's what we have."
"She's inexperienced. She doesn't know this industry—"
"Exactly. She has no ulterior motives. No dreams of becoming a star. She just needs money." Director Han pulled out her phone. "I'm calling her. Unless you'd rather explain to your father why you're working without an assistant again."
I thought about my father's last message: *One more scandal and you're done.*
I thought about Dr. Yoon's words: *You need to let someone help you.*
I thought about that girl's face when I rejected her—the way her eyes had filled with tears she tried to hide.
"Fine," I said. "Call her."
"You're sure?"
No. I wasn't sure about anything anymore.
"She'll quit like the others. But at least it'll buy me time."
After Director Han left to make the call, I sat alone in the destroyed practice room, surrounded by broken glass and water and the wreckage of my temper.
I pulled up Dr. Yoon's message again.
**The episodes will only get worse if you don't take your medication.**
My hand tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white.
Tomorrow, some girl named Sunshine would walk into my nightmare thinking she could handle it.
She had no idea what she was signing up for.
And God help me, I didn't have the strength to warn her away.
---
**END OF CHAPTER 2