Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

MJ was a beauty in her own class, and Park found himself appreciating that fact a little more seriously now that he was walking with her instead of sitting across a lobby pretending his eyes had important professional duties elsewhere.

Apart from her acting outstanding talent, her looks had probably been another reason NX Arc had looked at the original seven and decided MJ was one of the few they absolutely did not want slipping through their fingers.

She was around five-eight, tall enough to carry herself beautifully without towering over everyone, dressed today in a fitted black dress that ended above her knees with a cropped black coat resting over her shoulders. The outfit was simple by RoraWood standards, but MJ did simple extremely fucking well. Her long dark hair had been combed into smooth, orderly waves that spilled over her shoulders and framed a slightly rounded face tapering into a neat pointed chin; her hair was really long.

Her eyes were glossy black, almost liquid beneath the hallway lighting, while her lips had that deep cherry-red color that immediately made a man wonder whether lipstick companies were paying enough attention.

Park certainly was.

And then there was the rest of her.

’Gods.’

The dress clung to her body with quiet intent, stretching smoothly over the full, heavy roundness of her breasts; the soft round of them pressed clearly against the fabric, and her nipples had already drawn into tight, taut peaks that stood out in sharp little points, shifting with every small breath she took.

The neckline offered only the barest suggestion of cleavage, a narrow shadow between the curves that somehow made the sight more dangerous — because the mind filled in everything the dress refused to show.

Her waist dipped inward in a clean, elegant line before flaring into full hips cinched by a slim belt. From there the dress followed the generous, rounded shape of her ass, the short dress pulling tight across both firm cheeks and outlining their soft, heavy curve with almost indecent clarity. It sat high and full, the kind of round, firm weight that held its shape even under the thin material, and Park found himself ranking it first after a quick, shameless comparison to every other woman he had ever seen. Soft, thick, and perfectly rounded — the dress could hide none of it.

(IMAGE FOR MJ)

’Fuck... MJ has an incredible ass.’

There. The court had ruled.

Her thighs were no less unfair either, smooth and full beneath the short hem as she walked, and Park briefly wondered if NX Arc had secretly started hiring actresses according to how effectively they could destroy a man’s concentration before noon.

She really was hot.

And now this hot woman was leading him away from the lobby into a quieter hallway with fewer people, which naturally gave the deeply irresponsible section of his imagination several ideas about why beautiful women took handsome men into secluded places.

Park refused to entertain any of them.

He was not a beast.

Absolutely not.

But she would feel so fucking good in his arms — short enough that her whole body could tuck right against his chest, her head fitting under his chin, while the full, soft weight of her pressed into him. Her body was hot and would feel heavy in the best way, all curves and warmth settling deep into his embrace like she was meant to be held there, the kind of solid, snuggled-up weight that made it hard to think about letting go.

He was a civilized nineteen-year-old man with an active imagination, healthy hormones, functioning eyesight, and apparently far too much appreciation for fitted black dresses.

’Different thing entirely.’

MJ eventually stopped near the far end of the hallway, where another corridor branched toward several smaller meeting rooms. She looked one way, then the other, making sure nobody had followed them before turning back toward him.

Park leaned casually against the opposite wall and gave himself exactly one more look.

’For morale.’

There was no shame in admiring a beautiful woman as long as he did not make it weird:

From the front she looked even better — the dress hugging the full round shape of her breasts, the way her waist narrowed before flaring into those soft hips, and the overall soft, curvy line of her body that made it hard to look away without staring too long.

Besides, MJ was looking at him too.

She kept trying not to, but her black eyes kept returning to his face before escaping again, nervousness mixing with something much easier for Park to recognize.

His cursed attractive face had collected another victim.

Tragic.

MJ cleared her throat.

Park smiled.

She cleared it again.

’Okay. This is apparently serious.’

"This is going to sound really weird," she finally said, fingers tightening around one another near her waist. "And I honestly wouldn’t have asked you if I had another option. I really wouldn’t."

Park pushed away from the wall slightly; whatever she wanted, it clearly was not the scandalous hallway proposal his less responsible brain had briefly applied for.

Again, he was not a beast.

Although the fact that he kept needing to remind himself of that was beginning to raise some deeply inconvenient philosophical questions.

"It’s fine," he said. "Just tell me. You’re making me curious now."

MJ hesitated another second. "You said you sing and write songs too, right?"

Park blinked, that was not where he expected this conversation to go.

"Yes. That’s kind of why I’m here for the second audition."

"Right." MJ winced slightly. "Sorry. Obviously... what was I even thinking."

"You’re forgiven."

She smiled weakly, then continued. "The audition was originally supposed to be for singers, songwriters, and people who could do both. But apparently NX changed something this morning."

Park’s attention sharpened at that.

MJ lowered her voice again. "They already have enough recording artists. More than enough, actually. Singers, solo artists, idol members, actor-singers, people they’ve been developing for years. The problem is songs."

"Songs?"

She nodded. "It was announced that they don’t have enough writers for everyone anymore. There are too many artists waiting for releases, and a lot of them can’t write their own music at the level NX wants. Some used to, but they’ve already burned through everything they had. Others have amazing voices but were always dependent on professional writers. So management changed the focus. They’re still willing to take exceptional singers, but apparently they now only want those who can write for themselves. Especially anyone who can consistently produce good songs."

Something inside Park’s head quietly sat upright.

Good songs?

Consistently?

That was almost unfair.

He had spent what, an hour or two that morning seriously working? And he’d made three complete songs that survived his own standards and could be given to any talented artist, while several others had been thrown aside because not good enough meant something completely different when Peerless Male Siren had apparently turned songwriting into one of his natural bodily functions.

If Park really sat down and concentrated, how many could he make in a day?

Ten?

More?

Writing them was barely the bottleneck anymore. Arrangement, recording, production, instrumentation, polishing, actually turning the thing inside his head into a finished commercial product, those took time.

But lyrics? Melody? Structure? Hooks? Harmonies?

Give him a subject and enough silence or sounds you wanted him to create upon and the songs practically lined up asking who got to be born first.

And in now NX Arc had an army of beautiful voices waiting for ammunition Park was basically an infinity ammunition factory with cheekbones.

Well.

His place here was looking safer by the fucking minute.

Unfortunately, whatever had just become excellent news for him clearly had not done the same for MJ. Her expression had fallen while she explained it, and Park finally understood why an actress with an almost-secured contract had dragged him away to discuss songwriting in the first place:

"My sister registered for the music intake," MJ said quietly, Park nodded.

"She has an amazing voice," MJ continued quickly, almost defensively. "Seriously. I know everyone says that about family, but I mean it. I don’t know anyone better than her."

Park kept his expression polite.

Of course she didn’t know anyone better than her sister.

Everyone had somebody they described that way: Best singer I know. Funniest person alive. Smartest girl ever. Greatest cook on Earth.

Humanity was wonderfully incapable of giving relatives normal reviews.

And talent-wise, claiming someone was the best voice MJ knew was not exactly going to shake Park’s confidence.

Hello? Had she met him?

Still, if a sister did not gas up her own sister, who the hell would?

MJ swallowed. "But..."

"But she can’t write songs," Park finished.

Her eyes lifted to his.

"And now that NX is prioritizing artists who can either create their own music or come in with material, no matter how good she sings, there’s a real chance they drop her."

MJ nodded, visibly miserable.

"So what you need from me is..."

Ding!

The familiar chime went through Park’s skull.

A blue panel unfolded across his vision.

[New Mission Assigned.]

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