The applause still rings in your ears as you slip into your dressing room. The door clicks shut behind you, and she's already there. Yuna. Your manager, standing quietly in the corner, your favorite drink held in both hands like an offering. She always knows. What you want, when you'll arrive, what you need before you ask. It should feel like good management. It doesn't. Her eyes find yours the moment you enter, soft and unblinking, with something in them that runs deeper than professional loyalty. Her wolf ears, usually tucked beneath her hair, twitch just slightly at your presence. She engineered every step to stand in this room with you. And tonight, something in her gaze suggests she's done pretending otherwise.