The moment the door opened, Kitagawa Ryo was assaulted by a rogue projectile. He plucked the photo stuck to his forehead with a slight frown, glancing at the image—a cap-wearing girl with shoulder-length hair, her name Arima Kana printed in the corner.
"Apologies for the interruption. Let's proceed as planned."
Handing the photo to a staff member rushing to clean up, Ryo dismissed the incident with a smile, offering a polite nod to the applicants in the hallway.
After years in the entertainment industry, he'd met plenty of child actors. Most shared one trait: their managers were usually parents or relatives. It made sense—kids naturally relied on family, and agencies risked backlash if they assigned unfamiliar handlers.
But there was another reason. Many parents clung to their children like cash cows, terrified of missing a single yen.
Most lacked any real managerial skill. His own father, Susumu, had locked him into exploitative long-term contracts as a child, stifling his career just as his popularity soared.
"Next up, Saitou-san."
"Yes!"
Saitou Miyako sprang to her feet, smoothing her skirt with a deep breath before following Ryo into the interview room.
"No need to be nervous. We've known each other for a while now."
Leaning back in his chair, Ryo laced his fingers together, his tone easy.
Three years ago, after The Cruel Audience's premiere, Miyako had shown him a fancam of his sister Ruby 's live reaction. He'd declined to release it publicly, keeping it for her future coming-of-age ceremony instead.
The memory softened his voice further as he flipped through her resume.
"You're applying for assistant, correct?"
"Yes—specifically, personal life assistant."
Miyako nodded.
Celebrity assistants typically fell into two categories: work (scheduling, media liaison) and life (essentially glorified nannies). The latter handled everything from meals to laundry, ensuring stars could focus solely on performing.
To Miyako, it sounded like heaven.
(Also, Ryo's even hotter in person—)
"Sorry, but we're not hiring life assistants."
Her fantasy shattered instantly.
Just as Miyako floundered for a response, Ryo tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"Though… there might be flexibility."
"Given our history, and how you've looked after Ai, I'll be frank—I have a seven-year-old sister. My schedule keeps me away half the year."
He smiled.
"A life assistant's job is to support an artist's daily needs. So instead of a company role, how about a private position?"
"When I'm in Tokyo, you'd assist my work. When I'm away, you'd care for my sister. Double pay. Thoughts?"
As Ruby grew older, dumping her at Toshirou Kindaichi's place felt increasingly irresponsible. Hiring a stranger was risky, and while Ai was ideal, her packed schedule (especially with Tokyo Dome looming) made imposing unfair.
(Also, Ruby low-key hates her for some reason.)
Miyako, though? Perfect fit.
Under Ryo's hopeful gaze, she heard herself agreeing before logic kicked in.
Stepping outside, reality dawned.
(Well… half-success?)
Yet an odd melancholy lingered.
(I don't even have kids, and now I'm nannying my idol's—wait, no, sister.)
Ruby .
The name echoed in her mind, carrying a strange sense of fate realigning.
For other applicants—PR and executive roles—Ryo ended each interview identically:
"If I ever made a selfish choice that could wreck my career, how would you handle it?"
Their answers shaped his final team.
Once assembled, the twenty-member squad faced their first trial: the avalanche of endorsement offers.
"A good partnership benefits both brand and star," head agent Mr. Izaki began, citing Ryo's smash-hit ice cream and toothpaste collabs.
"But a scandal? The backlash is brutal. Baby formula, elder supplements—we've seen disasters. Vet every company thoroughly."
As folders circulated, Izaki leaned in.
"Any preferences?"
"Wait for screening."
Ryo grimaced at the first two pages—targeted mom-bait like jade buddhas and "self-massaging" foot baths.
(Imagine me grinning, holding a tub going 'For Mom!' Like some cursed infomercial.)
"These glasses?" A PR agent suggested. "Reputable brand. Fans would love the new look."
"Shortlist it." Ryo skimmed the specs—high-end frames, sunglasses, exclusivity deal.
Debates stalled until he stood.
"Let's renew the safe bets first."
The team pivoted smoothly:
"Drop the kids' clothing lines. You've outgrown them."
"Ice cream and toothpaste? Keep. Good terms, fair rates."
"LALALAI Theatre's offer is… low. Their revenue's plummeting."
"Renew it. For ten years if needed."
Ryo cut them off.
"Kindaichi's revamping the theatre, pushing 2.5D stage plays. I believe in them."
(Also, I owe them everything.)
"What's my schedule?" He tilted his head toward Miyako.
"The Cruel Audience press conference this month. Then—"
"Dating show invites."
"Hard pass."
(Those trashy teen romance reality shows? No thanks.)
"Director Gotanda's new film starts next month. Art-house, aiming for overseas festivals."
"Still salty about losing Best Director twice, huh?"
Ryo smirked. Only Taishi Gotanda—the rising auteur—could drag a box-office king into an un-broadcast passion project.
(Dude's a genius, but also a NEET who gets his mom to pack his lunches.)
Speaking of which…
"What's the film called?"
"Spider."
Memories surfaced—script drafts at Gotanda's home, one passage standing out:
[Mothers are like spiders. Clever, patient, diligent. Knitting sweaters in winter.]
[Spider eggs are fragile. Maybe that's why they grow so fierce—to protect.]
[She weaves invisible threads through every corner of my life.]
The synopsis was a single line:
[The mother's focus isn't joy—it's the thrill of controlling living things.]
"This is insider intel!"
Arima Kana's mother had hissed.
"Gotanda's film has a role perfect for you! A crying scene—your specialty! And the lead's Kitagawa Ryo!"
Even now, at the audition, those words rang in Kana's ears.
She'd never met Ryo.
Yet since infancy, she'd lived in his shadow—
No.
His shrine.
Her mother had enshrined him.
Now she demanded Kana tear him down.
"Stop running! This isn't a playground."
A scolding voice snapped Kana back. Nearby, a blonde girl pouted at her handler.
"—But I just wanted to see—"
Kana's gaze locked onto them.
The girl huffed, voice dripping with envy:
"Who gets that lucky…
…to play Onii-chan's little sister?"
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