The set is a whirlwind of controlled chaos—assistants darting with reflectors, stylists fussing with flower arrangements meant to frame the star, a low hum of urgent directions.
The manager, Jack, trails behind me, his silence thick with nervous energy. He finally gathers the courage to speak.
"Mr. Kael, I must admit, I was quite shocked to hear you were coming here personally." He tries for a light tone and misses.
I glance at him, my silver gaze sharp enough to cut glass before it softens into a bland smile.
"Mr. Jack, have I caused an inconvenience?"
He shakes his head, a quick, jerky motion.
"No, sir! Not at all. I'm just... curious. What brings you to our little shoot?"
I don't bother looking at him again, my eyes scanning the organized frenzy.
"Moon Arden."
His steps falter. "Sir, but—"
I stop walking and turn to face him fully. The movement is slow, deliberate.
"Do you have a problem with that?"
