Chapter Text
Teyvat Entertainment's company building is the tallest structure that you've ever seen.
Double-checking the address on your phone, you look toward the top—it disappears somewhere amongst the clouds, indiscernible at this angle. Made of a glossy black steel, you can see yourself in the reflection of the facade. You fix your posture, readjusting the sleeves of your blazer. It's essential that you look perfect on your first day.
It had taken three recommendations, five rounds of interviews, and a written exam to land the prestigious internship at Teyvat Entertainment. The background check alone had taken six months to clear—you're sure that they had been extremely detailed, considering the proximity of the role to the idols themselves. You can't quite blame them for that foresight, considering you've seen some of the fan behavior firsthand.
Lost in your thoughts, you jump in surprise when your phone starts to ring, and you fumble to answer the call.
"Hello?" you ask, breathless.
"Hi, honey!"
It's just your mom. You exhale a sigh of relief, trying to fix the hem of your shirt again and doing last-minute checks on your appearance. A few passerby give you odd looks, but you ignore their stares.
"Hi, mom. What is it? I'm about to go inside, I can't be late on my first day."
There's the recognizable sound of eggs cracking in the background. She's probably making her favorite cookies right now, if you had to guess. You can practically imagine her waltzing around the kitchen, her phone secured between her ear and her shoulder.
"I know, hon. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, considering the news lately. It seems like it's become a big scandal, you know?"
You rub a smudge of mascara off your eye. "What news?"
"You didn't see? There's that whole ordeal with that one idol—oh, what's his name… Moustache?"
Brows furrowing, you think hard about who she could be referring to. There are tons of idols under Teyvat Entertainment at this point—the size of the company has practically quadrupled since its creation.
"Do you mean… Scaramouche?"
"Yes, yes, him! There was some scandal about his recent behavior at their fan meeting. A big deal, apparently. The company's stocks are dropping like flies."
If anything had happened to Scaramouche, you're sure it would have huge impacts on Teyvat Entertainment's profits and image. As the center of their biggest group, his misconduct must've struck them hard—you'd guess that the company is in full damage control mode right now.
When you check the time, you curse.
"Listen, I have to go, but I'll call you later."
You hang up before your mom can manage another word, shuffling up the steps as quickly as your heels will allow. You'll be damned before you show up late on your first day—that kind of thing could get you fired immediately at an internship of this caliber. You refuse to toss your dreams away over something so simple.
The lobby is equally as impressive as the building itself. It feels expensively modern, shiny white marble floors extending as far as your eyes can see. On one side of the room, black loveseats are arranged around coffee tables—a waiting area. The other side is populated by digital screens, each of them playing fancams and music videos from the various groups under the company, as well as a long table offering refreshments and lemon-cucumber water. You've never been in a place that felt so luxurious before.
Trying to look like you actually belong here, you scamper up to the front desk, clutching at the strap of your bag. The woman sitting there seems to be around your age, with long white hair and a bright smile. Mualani, her nametag reads.
"Good morning!" she greets, bowing slightly. "Welcome to Teyvat Entertainment. How can I assist you today?"
You cough, trying to sound confident as you declare, "I'm the new intern. Today is my first day."
Mualani's face brightens. "Oh! Perfect timing, Lumine just came down to drop off your employee badge."
She starts to pull drawers open, rifling through a messy array of things—chapstick, tissues, keychains and other idol group merch. It's an odd sight when contrasted with the rest of the lobby. Finally, she yanks a lanyard out of the pile. It has your name on it, along with the photo you'd submitted a few weeks ago. And, right along the lower border, it simply reads Intern.
"This badge should give you access to most of the building. First, I'll direct you to the 32nd floor—that's where Lumine will meet you. I'll also warn you that we have records of badge and elevator usage. As an intern, you are not allowed on any floor above 50, because those are the idols' personal floors. We've had people do some strange things in the past, so I'm sure you can understand our caution."
You nod vigorously, trying to absorb everything that she's telling you. You have no interest in the idols' personal floors—all you need to do is prove yourself as a capable member of the company, and hope that they'll hire you full-time.
Mualani directs you to the elevator, and you finally exhale once the doors slide closed.
Your palms are sweaty. You resist the urge to wipe them on your pants, instead fanning them in the air in an attempt to quicken the drying process. The elevator seems to move at a snail's pace, or maybe it's the fact that it's climbing 32 stories high.
At about the 15th floor, you pull out your phone, and the first notification that pops up is a news article.
THE SCOWL SCANDAL! 6REEZE MEMBER SCARAMOUCHE UNDER FIRE AFTER BEING SEEN SCOWLING AND CURSING DURING A FANMEETING
So this must've been the scandal that your mother was referring to. Admittedly, at first glance, the headline is bad—the first rule of being an idol is to never piss off the fans, and it seems as though Scaramouche had been caught right in the act. But fans are also prone to overreaction; there's a good chance that all of this is simply a misunderstanding.
Sighing, you scroll down to the comments.
—leave idols alone, he’s a human being
—i heard the fan was really rude, and that’s why he made that face
—LMFAOOO FINALLY i knew this group was a flop. what a dick
From what you've seen in their official content, Scaramouche is a kind, motivated person. In every video, he seems to reference his desire to "make life-changing music" at least once or twice. You'd always thought he was the type to be really committed to his fans, though you can't say that you know him personally.
The elevator dings, and your gaze flickers up just as the elevator doors slide open.
The 32nd floor is a relatively unassuming place. From the outside looking in, it's a normal office building—there's an array of cubicles in the open space, with meeting rooms outlined in clear glass at the borders of the floor. Workers are milling about, typing away on their keyboards or rushing to meetings, stacks of papers held in their arms.
You can tell that the environment is rather fast-paced, you think as you suck in a breath.
I'm not afraid, you assert to yourself. This is what I signed up for.
"Oh! You must be the new intern!"
At the sound of the new voice, your head whips around. A blonde woman in a white pantsuit is walking up to you, a clipboard in hand. You recognize her instantly—Lumine, one of the general managers at Teyvat Entertainment. As far as you know, she has multiple groups under her tutelage.
"It's great to meet you," she says, shaking your hand. You're relieved to find that she seems to be friendly. Somehow, you'd imagined someone at her level in the company would be more strict and unreachable.
"I'm really excited to be here. It's an honor to work with such a well-known, successful company. I'm ready to learn and take on any projects that you have for me."
You try not to sound robotic as you recite the greeting that you'd practiced about twenty times in your mirror last night. Based on the way that Lumine smiles and nods, you'd succeeded.
"I'm glad to hear that. You've chosen quite the time to join us, considering everything that's going on right now. I'm sure that you've seen the news."
Her smile turns sheepish. When you glance around, it does seem like everyone is rather busy, perhaps trying to extinguish the fire that Scaramouche had created.
"Yes, I was taking a look at it on my way up. Everyone has their off-days, I suppose."
At your response, Lumine's head tilts almost imperceptibly. She has a certain hesitation in her expression, like she knows something that you don't. It makes your palms even sweatier—perhaps you had said something incorrect.
"…Right. Well, 6REEZE is one of the groups that works under me. Are you a fan?"
Her question catches you off-guard. You don't want to sound like a complete stalker who had only accepted the position as a ploy to get close to them, but you also don't want to appear uncaring or ignorant about the group's activities.
At your uncertainty, Lumine laughs. "It's not a trick question. It's okay to say you're a fan, as long as you're not trying to sneak into their closets or something."
An embarrassed chuckle escapes you. "Right. Then yes, I am a fan. I've followed their activities since debut."
6REEZE had been formed from a nationally-televised survival show, one which you had followed weekly with rapt attention. You recall the sleepless nights that you spent combing through fancams and interviews, trying to decide who deserved your vote.
One of the passing workers bumps into your shoulder, squeaking out a "sorry!" before scurrying over to his next meeting. You don't even have time to accept his apologize before he disappears, your stare trailing after him. At your frazzled expression, Lumine pats your shoulder.
"Don't worry. Things will be pretty crazy for the next few days while we wait for the heat to die down, but it's all hands on deck right now. I'll be with you every step of the way, though, so don't panic."
You can only nod shallowly, taking another deep breath. Don't freak out. Think about how hard you worked to get here.
You've always dreamed about working in the entertainment industry, and if there's anything your mom taught you, it was to chase your ambitions without regret. If you can make this internship successful, you're sure it will be a great stepping stone to your dream career.
Lumine checks her watch, then sighs.
"Well, it's time to head to my next meeting, and your first project. I'll explain once we get there."
Her steps are two times faster than yours—you struggle to keep up, stumbling over your feet. You mentally note that as an area for personal improvement. She leads you toward the meeting room on the far side of the floor—this one is different than the rest, with tinted glass that prevents you from seeing anything inside. You wonder what kind of horrors might be hidden inside as your first project.
"Well, here we go!"
Lumine doesn't wait for your reply before she pushes the door open, leading you inside. The large room is dwarfed by the size of the massive conference table in the center, outlined by office chairs. On the far wall sits a flat-screen TV, and a table with a pitcher of lemon water and a platter of finger sandwiches.
And, filling the chairs surrounding the table, are the members of 6REEZE.
6REEZE, as in the current top idol group in the country. The six members who you've only ever seen through TV screens and magazine covers are sitting right in front of you. Living, breathing, existing in the same room as you.
You have to hold your breath to prevent yourself from vomiting from nervousness. All of their stares seem to pass right over Lumine and straight to you, the newfound stranger in the room.
One of them—Venti, you recognize—chuckles. "Well, who could this be?"
Every nerve in your body is telling you to run. You feel the undeniable urge to shrink into the wall, never to return. The weight of their stares unbearable, and they're almost doubly as handsome in-person as they are in the photos.
Lumine introduces you by name. You aren't sure whether or not you're supposed to expand on your background or your reason for being here, so you merely bow shakily.
"She's our new intern," Lumine explains. Her voice takes on a stricter tone as she continues, "I expect everyone to be on their best behavior. I won't have another intern chased off, so I'd better not hear about any funny business."
Another intern chased off? That's news to you. You try not to let that omen worry you.
Another member—Heizou—is halfway through one of the finger sandwiches, shrugging as he sighs, "Talk to Scaramouche about that. He's the reason we're in this mess."
In your shock, you'd practically forgotten about the ongoing scandal. Your eyes naturally scan the room for the man himself, and you land on him right away. Your breath hitches—he looks nothing like the pictures.
The Scaramouche that you've seen is always smiling. He's known for having a kind, tender vibe about him, and most fans refer to him as the "prince" of the group.
Half of that moniker can be attributed to his mother, Raiden, being known as one of the most famous celebrities of all time—the queen of idols. Though she's long since retired, the news of her son joining the industry had made headlines across the country and turned 6REEZE into a worldwide sensation overnight.
You're sure that kind of fame comes with pressure, but the real Scaramouche looks unexpectedly… unpleasant.
He's donned in a black hoodie and sweatpants, his hood pulled up and strings tightened together until his eyes are practically the only thing visible about him. Even with most of his face obscured, you can tell that he's scowling straight at you.
"Oh, please. None of those nobody interns could hold their own in this type of industry. Hell, I doubt that this one can either. I'll bet anyone that she's gone by next week."
Though his voice is muffled, you're able to pick out every word that he says, and you instantly return a scowl of your own. Upon your first meeting, this man is already passing judgment on your abilities. It irritates you that he's looking down on you.
"You don't even know me yet," you reply coolly, crossing your arms. "And Heizou is right, you should be more thoughtful about your actions and how it reflects on your group. If you took more accountability for your actions, maybe everyone else wouldn't have to work extra to ease the consequences."
Scaramouche scoffs. "Working extra? You haven't even worked here yet at all, so spare me the lecture. Everyone is doing what they're being paid to do, and that's the whole of it."
You're not sure why his words push your buttons in the worst way. Even from just your initial impressions, you can tell that everyone here is working their ass off to ensure that 6REEZE remains successful. And here is one of their members, pissing it all away without so much as a second thought.
"Even if it's what they're being paid to do, I think you should remember who put you on that stage in the first place. Not everyone was born with a silver spoon, so you should start thanking everyone who bothered to take a chance on you with that sorry attitude."
It comes out before you can compose yourself. As soon as you say it, all air seems to be sucked out of the room—everyone returns you a wide-eyed, slack-jawed stare. Scaramouche looks like he could kill you right now.
Oh god, you think, sweat pricking at your forehead. I'm so, so fired.
You'd just, on your first day, as an intern, talked down to one of the most famous, popular idols in the company. In fact, you're not sure if you're even supposed to be talking to him right now—Lumine had likely only brought you to observe so that you could get your bearings on your first day. And now, you've gone and fucked it all up.
You're halfway through considering how you might unceremoniously fling yourself out the window when Heizou breaks the silence, whistling lowly and swiping crumbs from the corners of his mouth. He looks more amused than the others, eyes shining with interest.
"This should keep things interesting," he mumbles, stifling a laugh. Scaramouche shoots him a poisonous glare.
A bit of the tension dissipates. Xiao shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and shutting his eyes. Venti smirks, exchanging giggles with Heizou, and Aether merely shrugs, watching his sister's reaction. At the very end of the table, Kazuha is staring out the window, lost in the city skyline—you're not sure if he even heard what you said in the first place.
"Well, now that that's out of the way," Lumine says brightly, brushing her hands off, "I'd like to introduce you to your first project. Scaramouche, meet your newest mentor."
Your eyes nearly bug out of your head. Scaramouche sits up in his chair at the same time that you both hiss out:
"What?!"
The look on Lumine's face as she turns to you is positively overjoyed. You're sure that she's all too pleased with herself and this turn of events.
"As you can see, Scaramouche has a bit of an…attitude issue. He's already been caught showing his real self once. The fans might let it slide this time, but 6REEZE will be on tour soon, which means constant fanmeetings. We need to make sure Scaramouche doesn't cause another scandal, which means that he'll need a bit of…readjustment. And it seems like you're just the person to do it!"
For a moment, all you can do is sit in stunned silence. Your gaze flits between Scaramouche's bitter glower and Lumine's serene smile—like night and day. It's ridiculous. There's no way that an intern like you could possibly deal with someone like him.
You're certain now that the Scaramouche you had seen on-screen was entirely an act. The real thing is a petulant, self-centered jerk.
Scaramouche groans in indignation. "You've gotta be kidding me. I don't need some girl off the street to be my babysitter. For all you know, she's just faking all of this to get close to us. She wouldn't be the first freak to try."
Kazuha gets up to get a drink of water, seemingly exhausted by the conversation at hand. You can't say that you blame him—you can't even imagine having to deal with this kind of attitude every day.
Well, you can now apparently. Because now, it's your job.
Lumine ignores Scaramouche's protests, instead offering you a sheet of paper from her clipboard. It's an official letterhead, with Teyvat Entertainment's logo at the top and her neat signature scrawled at the bottom.
"This is your formal permission to access 6REEZE's artist floor. From today onward, I want you to do your best to give Scaramouche a new perspective, if you would. If all goes well, I'd be happy to write you a glowing recommendation for a full position at the company."
A recommendation for a full position at the company. You practically squeal—it's as though you've been offered your lifelong dream on a silver platter. And all you have to do is teach some stuck-up celebrity the concept of empathy and proper human interaction.
You glance over to Scaramouche. He looks even angrier than before, and when he meets your eyes, he mouths three words.
"Don't do it."
It only makes it sweeter when you excitedly shake Lumine's hand, taking the permission form and slipping it into your bag.
"I accept."
You want to believe that you're not making a mistake—a golden ticket has just appeared before you, and you're simply taking advantage of it. But the bitter, vicious expression on Scaramouche's face as Lumine ushers you out of the room only solidifies the sinking question in your chest:
Is this job even possible?
Scaramouche completely avoids you for an entire week after that.
You feel like a headless chicken as you aimlessly spend your days sprinting around the building trying to catch a glimpse of his signature scowl. Whenever you see Lumine or one of the other 6REEZE members, they can only offer you a sheepish, apologetic smile.
"Sorry," they mumble, shrugging. "I have no idea where he runs off to."
It's no issue, you convince yourself—Scaramouche is an idol, so there are certain places that are completely unavoidable.
You're pacing the hallway outside the practice room, the faint sound of the group's newest song filtering through the wall. The members have been preparing for their tour for months now, or so you've been told, so rehearsals are near-constant on their schedule.
It's another hour before the first member emerges, a towel slung over his neck and a deep flush to his skin. Xiao's eyes widen as they meet yours, but he merely nods before exiting somewhere down the hall. Venti and Heizou follow, giggling about something on Venti's phonescreen, and Aether and Kazuha are chatting about their rehearsal notes as they bid you goodbye.
Scaramouche appears fifteen minutes later, just when you start to wonder if he'd jumped out the window purely to avoid you.
"Scaramouche!" you call, catching him just as he ducks out of the practice room. His nose wrinkles at the sound of your voice like he's just smelled something disgusting.
He practically sprints away from you, and despite your attempt to chase after him, he disappears just as you turn the corner, panting.
"Damn," you murmur, swiping sweat from your forehead.
Besides official practice times and rehearsals, which you aren't permitted to interrupt, he somehow finds any way to evade you. The building is still relatively new to you and certainly difficult to navigate, while he's practically grown up here. He knows every side entrance, every back door, and every fire exit that allows him to slip out of your sight, unnoticed.
And though you know Lumine would likely tell you his address if you asked, you absolutely refuse to be the stalker who follows him home—he would definitely use it as ammunition to call you a freak.
But your mom didn't raise you to waver. So you do the one thing that you do best.
You study.
Mualani gives you an odd look when you ask for a map of the building, but she relinquishes it nonetheless. You take it home, stick it to your bedroom wall, and commit it to memory.
Every side entrance, every back door, and every fire exit.
It takes another week. A full seven days pass of you waiting desperately outside practice rooms and photoshoots, practically foaming at the mouth as you await Scaramouche's appearance—not with excitement, but with frustration. And, after you make your way home, you spend your night studying the building map.
So the next time 6REEZE's dance practice ends, you're ready. And as Scaramouche bursts into the back stairwell, a mask pulled over his nose and dark-rimmed glasses over his eyes, you're already waiting.
"You sure leave quick," you observe, arms crossed as you lean against the wall.
He nearly jumps out of his skin, clearly not having expected to see you standing there. You'd be lying if you said that the sight did not amuse you.
Embarrassed, he glances back at the door, checking to see if anyone had noticed his surprise.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he hisses, head whipping back to face you. "What, did you check our schedule again? And you were just waiting here for me like some creep?"
You shrug. "I had to get a hold of you somehow. I'm sure you remember the assignment that Lumine gave me."
Scaramouche's eyes narrow as he places a hand on the doorknob.
"Right," he says slowly. "Well, I have to use the bathroom, so if you wait here for me, I'll be right back—"
You make a casual show of checking your nails, blowing off any excess dust. "The bathroom on this floor is located right next to the stairwell that leads out the side entrance to the building. If you'd like, I can wait for you there as well."
Scaramouche's jaw tightens, and you know that at that moment you have him perfectly cornered—a mouse in your trap. A flicker of astonishment passes over his face, like he's just recognized you as a formidable opponent.
You're not entirely sure what he or the rest of 6REEZE had done to make so many interns run for the hills, but you're determined to be the one that stays. And if that commitment requires you to play hide-and-seek with Scaramouche throughout the building, so be it.
Taking a step away from the wall, you let out a dramatic sigh.
You'd put a lot of thought into how you were going to get him to see the light, to start to appreciate the love and the effort that his fans had put into making his group famous. And though you'd pondered it for a long, long time, you had simply arrived at a single conclusion.
Scaramouche was not going to change. At least, not on your account.
It's obvious that he's the spiteful type, and after the way you'd talked back to him during the meeting, you're sure that he'll put extra effort into digging his heels in and ensuring that you don't make an inch of progress. So you decide to focus on the only person he seems to care about: himself.
"Listen, I'll just cut to the case here. We both know you're not going to change no matter what I say or do. Any attempt that I make to give you an 'attitude adjustment' will be fruitless. But I still need this job, and you still need to prove to Lumine that you can act more like a good and proper idol. So I'm here to propose a deal."
He barks out a disbelieving laugh. "Make a deal? With you? I'd rather get lobotomized with a soup spoon."
Despite the rather vivid imagery behind his words, you steel yourself and continue.
"I have a plan to make sure that we can both get what we want. If things go my way, Lumine will stop bothering you, and I'll have the job of my dreams. If things don't go my way, I'll tell Lumine that I'm not giving up on you, and she'll keep giving me permission to bother you until the end of time. And as you can probably tell, I have plenty of time to find new ways to make your life a lot harder."
Hesitantly, his hand lifts away from the doorknob. A flicker of interest flashes in his eyes.
"Start talking about your deal," he replies after a moment, crossing his arms. "Or I'm out of here."
You have to hide the smirk that threatens to rise to your lips. Bingo.
Digging through your bag, you supply him with the handout that you had so helpfully designed last night, complete with charts and diagrams. He looks bewildered as he takes it from you, though no protest leaves his lips.
"Look, Lumine has already assigned me to make you change. That remains an undeniable fact. Even if you try to chase me off, she'll just replace me with someone else who could potentially be more annoying—"
"—I doubt that's even possible—"
"—and just force you to do more work. So, I propose that you go along with me for now. We act like the program worked and that you're seeing the error of your ways, so to speak. That gets Lumine off your back, and that gets me the recommendation that I've been looking for. It's a success for everyone. All you have to do is not get caught being an asshole again. And who knows? With my help, you might actually manage it for real."
Scaramouche raises a brow, unconvinced. "Seriously? I don't think Lumine would be convinced by us just telling her that it all worked out. And frankly, I don't care if she believes me or not, I'm not going through with this garbage—"
"If you'd flip to the other side of the handout, you'll see that I already accounted for that. I'm fully aware that Lumine wouldn't be convinced by a few smiles. That's why it's necessary for both of us to act on good terms for this plan to work. The whole group already knows that you hate my guts, we made that much obvious during the initial meeting. But if we can make a convincing show that we're getting along, it'll show Lumine that not only are we working on your attitude behind the scenes, but you're also changing your ways."
At the close of your spiel, you wait for his reaction with bated breath. Admittedly, you'd known this entire plan was a bit of a Hail Mary, but you truly saw no other way to convince him to go along with your idea. And they'd have to drag you kicking and screaming out of this building before you'd even think of giving up on that recommendation.
Scaramouche looks thoughtful, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he considers your proposal. Apparently, even someone like him is capable of reason occasionally.
"So, all we have to do is pretend to get along for a bit. And once you get your recommendation, you'll get off my back?"
You nod. "Yup. Once Lumine sends that me that recommendation, I promise you'll never hear a word from me again."
He deliberates again, scanning over the handout. Then, he begrudgingly sighs.
"Only for as long as it takes for Lumine to give up on this whole thing, I'll go along with your plan. I'm not going to pretend to like you—in fact, I don't think you have a chance in hell of pulling this off." He looks you up and down, already looking faintly amused as if he's imagining your impending failure. "But if it keeps you from stalking me through the halls like some freak, then I'll agree for now."
A rush of relief floods your veins. You feel as though you've just conquered the most daunting obstacle of all. Now, all that remains is to convince Lumine that you've properly done your job, and then your ticket into the company is all but signed and sealed.
(If only it were that simple.)
"Great!" you smile, extending a hand. "Then I look forward to working with you, Scaramouche."
He looks disgusted by the prospect of "working with you," but limply shakes your hand nonetheless, attempting as little skin-to-skin contact as possible. With that, the deal is official.
"Whatever," he mumbles, moving to leave. "Quit following me around. Just let me know what you need me to do. I'm sure Lumine already gave you my contact information."
You nod brightly. "Yup! I already added you—"
"'Course you did, Manager's Pet. Now go bark at someone else."
Your phone seems to burn in your pocket at the mention, his contact freshly added to your list. It feels odd to even imagine sending him a text, but it's up to you now to make sure the plan works. Before you can manage a retort, Scaramouche disappears down the stairwell.
It's quiet.
Your hands clench into slow fists, unable to control the adrenaline that runs rampant in your veins. Sure, you'd gotten him to agree to your plan, but there's still endless things that could go wrong. He hadn't exactly been ecstatic to agree, and you're unsure how committed he really is.
If Scaramouche falters for even a moment, your entire plan will implode—and the second that it does, your dreams are flushed down the drain. However possible, you have to make sure everything goes perfectly.
But when you think about Scaramouche's rotten expression, it only makes you shudder—if you want everything to work out, the only thing you can do is hope that he doesn't stand in your way.
You kick weakly at the wall, grumbling to yourself.
"Can't believe I voted for that asshole."