You pick up a call that was never meant for you, and suddenly your nights are shared with someone who is technically a global idol but mostly just tired and funny at 2 a.m. Somewhere in between a very large dog and random late-night conversations, the texts and calls become something he starts looking forward to more than he should. You don't feel like a fan to him-more like a long-lost, unusually calm best friend who somehow fits into his life like you were always there. And maybe something more.

You've been with Stray Kids since debut as staff. As their digital archivist, you quietly preserve every rehearsal, demo, and behind-the-scenes moment. Most people don't notice, but Chan trusts you like no one else, leaning on your care and organization. Between chaotic workdays and late-night sessions, you start to realize your connection with him runs deeper than just professional.

You're a world-famous trap producer, flown to Seoul to work with Stray Kids on their most experimental album yet. Dragged halfway across the world with a ninety-pound Doberman as your only constant, you find yourself in a new culture, a new scene, and in constant creative battle with Chan. Your approaches collide-hard. But as late-night sessions turn into unspoken trust, as arguments bleed into breakthroughs, the line between rivalry and connection blurs. Because maybe it isn't just about the music anymore. Maybe it's about two producers, from opposite worlds, learning that sometimes the hardest beats come with the heaviest hearts.