Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

CJ blinked.

MJ’s eyes immediately sharpened with interest.

Park’s smile widened slightly when CJ said nothing. "That was from only four words, by the way, without you even singing. Your sister might actually have undersold you."

The blush adorned her face before CJ could stop it, a faint warmth spreading over her cheeks that made MJ look at her sister as though she had just discovered classified military information.

CJ rarely cared much about men.

It was not that she hated them:

She simply had music, auditions, rehearsals, and enough confidence in herself that being told she was pretty by some boy usually slid off without finding anywhere interesting to land. Park’s compliment did not feel the same, partly because his voice made almost any sentence sound unfairly pleasant and partly because the way he complimented her voice while his own was hypnotic, carried no desperate attempt to impress her like other boy and men.

He seemed genuinely interested in her voice than her beauty actually.

That mattered more to her than anything else.

"Thank you," CJ said, clearing her throat.

Park had meant it too.

He could bullshit compliments about beauty all day and enjoy himself immensely while doing so.

Tell a woman her eyes should require a license, tell another her dress was threatening public order, tell someone her lips had started a small religious crisis, all that was fun.

Talent was different.

He did not bullshit talent.

His voice was on a different level and after Peerless Male Siren it had changed too and the way Park understood voices had changed almost as much as it had changed his own. Resonance, natural placement, breath, tension, range, tonal color, flexibility, little signs that most listeners would simply translate into nice voice now arrived to him with far more detail attached.

CJ had spoken one greeting.

That was enough for him to hear room inside her voice.

’And a lot of fucking room for more development.’

MJ started, "CJ, Park is here because he..."

"Because I actually need your help."

Both sisters looked at him:

MJ slowly closed her mouth while CJ pointed lightly toward herself. "Mine?"

"Yeah."

The answer made CJ study him differently.

Until then, she had assumed MJ had somehow convinced this absurdly handsome new actor to come offer help, which already sat strangely with her.

But Park knew that CJ knew exactly how good her voice was and he knew that she also knew exactly what NX Arc’s rule change had done to her chances. And hearing her voice, Park knew that she knew that she did not need was pity from some talented stranger simply because the rules had changed and she would be failed.

Park had understood that before stepping fully into the room.

Pride knew pride.

Park had spent two lives carrying enough of that pride, enough to recognize the smell of it.

CJ did not look desperate. Annoyed by the sudden change in requirements, yes. Frustrated, probably furious underneath. But there was none of the terrifiedplease save me energy Park had seen in people whose entire future depended on one agency saying yes.

If NX Arc rejected her, CJ would leave, without having to lower herself like some charity case before Park just because he could offer her free songs.

’And another agency would take her.’

Maybe not the top agency she wanted, but Park had heard enough in just her words to know she would not stay unemployed for longer than one audition. Some company would hear her voice, look at her face, and begin rearranging paperwork before she had finished the first chorus.

Which meant Park had no intention of walking into the room offering charity and accidentally sending his future ten-percent-gross money machine marching into another agency out of offended pride.

He pulled out his notebook.

"I’ve had something sitting in my head for a while, but I haven’t found anyone good enough to bring it out properly the way I want it."

MJ raised an eyebrow.

CJ’s mouth twitched.

Park chuckled. "Okay, that sounded arrogant."

"A little," MJ said.

"A lot," CJ corrected, some of her earlier awkwardness finally easing.

"Fair. But the song really is that good, and everyone I imagined singing it kept ruining something. Then I overheard MJ talking about this supposedly incredibly talented sister of hers." He opened the notebook and turned it toward CJ. "Come look."

That did it.

CJ stepped closer almost immediately without realizing it, curiosity for good music beating pride by a comfortable margin.

She had to come close enough to stand beside him to read properly, and that created an entirely new problem because Park smelled too sooo good too, something clean and natural mixed with the faint trace of whatever he had used after showering. CJ ignored that as professionally as possible while MJ, from slightly behind them, watched the whole situation with the kind of quiet amusement only a sister could manage.

’Are you developing a crush right now in this situation, stupid girl.’

Park flipped through several pages and stopped at the duet.

It was technically the easiest of the three complete songs he had written that morning, though the word easy was becoming increasingly stupid when applied to anything produced under Peerless Male Siren.

Both singers carried separate melodic lines that answered and circled one another before joining, meaning the song would collapse instantly if either singer treated the other like background decoration.

"This one."

CJ started reading.

Park gave her only enough time to catch the shape before tapping the rhythm against his thigh. He clapped once, let the beat settle, then started singing without any warning.

His voice entered low and warm, almost intimate enough to sound spoken, carrying the quiet ache of somebody addressing a person standing close enough to touch and still impossibly far away.

{...You were close enough to be mine, mm

Yet far enough to never stay...}

CJ’s eyes lifted from the notebook...

...MJ froze.

They had both heard good singers.

CJ had spent years surrounded by them.

Neither woman was prepared for Park.

His voice was not merely beautiful. Beauty would have been manageable; it gave the sound a pull, something difficult to describe because the ear heard music while the body reacted as though somebody had quietly opened a door inside the listener and walked through without permission.

The low note touched CJ first.

It was warm, deep, almost gentle.

Then the emotion underneath it arrived.

Mourner’s Tongue had originally announced itself to Park as an acting ability, but emotion did not care whether a camera was rolling or a melody was playing. When Park needed longing, it gave him longing, when he needed the pain of loving someone unattainable, his body found the shape of that pain so completely that his face softened, his eyes changed, his breathing shifted between lines, and suddenly every lyric seemed to come from some private wound he had never told either sister about.

MJ’s heart tightened.

CJ forgot to read.

Park had continued, allowing his voice to rise gradually. He never pushed for volume because he did not need to. Flawless kept every transition clean, every breath arriving exactly where it belonged, and he carried his voice upward into a range CJ would not have expected from a man whose speaking voice sat that comfortably low.

That was what stunned her most.

It should have sounded strained; it did not.

His voice grew brighter without thinning, climbed without losing warmth, and by the time Park reached the section where CJ was supposed to enter, she was staring directly at him with her lips slightly parted.

Park tapped his thigh again and pointed toward her line.

Nothing.

He kept going for another two beats before stopping.

"You forgot."

CJ blinked as though somebody had turned the lights back on.

"What?"

"Your line...?"

"Oh." She looked down at the notebook, then back up at him and actually laughed, embarrassed and amazed at the same time. "Sorry, but how the hell do you sound like that?"

MJ had lost most of her vocabulary and settled for nodding.

CJ looked at him more carefully now, almost suspiciously. "That might genuinely be the most beautiful male voice I’ve ever heard."

Park smiled.

"I know. Now jump in."

MJ snorted, and CJ stared at him as though she could not decide whether his confidence was irritating or deserved.

The irritating part was that it was very deserved.

This time she focused.

Park started again, and knowing what was coming did almost nothing to make the effect weaker. If anything, anticipation made CJ more aware of the details; the way his voice changed color between words, the tiny breath before one line that somehow sounded intentional rather than necessary, his expression carried the lyric deep meaning without becoming theatrical.

Even sitting in a quiet training lounge with no microphone, no production, no instrumental backing except Park’s hand keeping rhythm against his thigh, he seemed more finished than singers CJ had watched perform on televised stages.

Her entrance approached.

CJ breathed in, and before the written line she softly added an "oh."

Park’s eyes flicked toward her; that was not on the page.

’It is also fucking beautiful, creative and fits right there.’

Then she entered properly:

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