Elana groaned loudly, grumbling in annoyance and clicking her tongue as she tossed her phone onto the sofa, startling Manda—her favorite personal assistant. Ever since the other day, she'd been stressed to the breaking point and suddenly developed insomnia. With her insanely packed schedule and barely any time to rest, she really shouldn't be suffering from insomnia, because of course it would affect her mood and mental health.
Damn you, Yoga!
"Look! That brat's fans are talking trash about me." Elana pointed at the cracked screen of her phone—the LCD had actually been shattered for months, not from being thrown just now.
Manda picked up Elana's phone and stared at the flat screen, scrolling as she read every nasty comment now flooding the girl's post. The situation grew more heated by the day, especially since there had been no official clarification, leaving the fans busy speculating. People were sending far more hurtful comments than words of support.
Usually, fans would create a couple fan account and come up with a hashtag combining both names, turning it into an iconic nickname. They'd label themselves true shippers, ready to upload content—even somewhat cringe TikTok edits—to support the pair. Instead of receiving any of that, Elana and Kaiden were both met with jeers and negative comments rejecting the relationship, enough to leave both of their managers running around like headless chickens.
"What's with Kaiden? Why are you with some old lady? I like you better with Kirana." Manda read one of the comments, making Elana glare before she listlessly sat down beside the girl, slumping there in exhaustion.
"Do I really look that old to Kaiden, Manda?" Elana murmured pitifully. "I'm only twenty-nine!" She groaned again and began to sob.
Manda let out a heavy sigh. Honestly, she couldn't stand seeing those vile words hurled at Elana. Until now, her boss had maintained a fairly clean reputation. Elana had never caused trouble with any public figure, never been involved in a scandal or cheap drama, and always protected her good name for the sake of her dream of walking the Victoria's Secret runway. Maybe the agency's fabricated image of her as cold and arrogant was one of the things that sounded bad, after the whole old-maid label.
Elana herself had never tried to become famous through dirty tactics, and she didn't want to do that anymore. She loved her peaceful life, and her nine million Instagram followers were more than enough for her. Management could already charge a decent rate for a single sponsored feed post, and Elana had often gone to castings and been signed by major global brands for catwalk work, even if there hadn't been many of them.
But of course, the agency didn't want their profits to stay small. They would do anything to boost their artists' popularity. More than once, management had suggested unpleasant things—not just to Elana, but to every artist under Polimnia Entertainment—simply because they needed more investors and more money.
Her brutally packed schedule, almost nonexistent rest hours, and sixty-percent royalty rate still weren't enough for that stingy agency. They wanted something bigger. Elana herself didn't care much about the royalties, the insane schedule, or even some of the things she was expected to do. She loved her job too much to care when her boss took advantage of and manipulated her.
Tama was always the first line of defense against all of it, pushing back whenever the agency did something wrong and getting angry whenever their boss left Elana with no life outside of work. But her obsession with walking the Victoria's Secret runway had turned Elana into a cow led by a ring through its nose. She couldn't even bring herself to refuse when Yoga asked her to pretend to be in a relationship with Kaiden.
"My head is killing me. I need some acetaminophen!" Elana muttered as she wiped the remnants of tears and snot from her nose with a tissue. She took her phone from Manda's hand, then stood up from the sofa, with Manda rising after her.
"I'll buy it," Manda said, only to be rejected by Elana.
Of course, as a fiercely devoted personal assistant, she couldn't possibly let her boss run errands all over the place alone. What was the point of paying her if it wasn't to turn her into a glorified maid? Elana had even enrolled her in college.
But weird Elana refused to let her do that, because the truth was, Manda felt almost useless as an employee. Elana was incredibly independent and never demanded much. While some artists even refused to carry their own wallets, Elana didn't. She liked going places alone, driving herself, and carrying her own things. Manda was only useful on shooting locations, when Elana was too busy with everything on her plate.
"Don't buy coffee again. Get something sweet instead!" Manda warned as Elana looked at her reflection in the mirror, then turned to look at Manda while wiping her nose.
"That's my acetaminophen, Manda." Elana left the room, ignoring Manda's grumbling and calls for her to come back because the girl was going to get her the real acetaminophen.
As if. She needed something that could make her stress and sleepiness disappear, something capable of eroding her anxiety, sadness, and irritation. An Americano would help—especially if that cute barista made it for her. Besides, who actually needed medicine? In her current state, Elana needed to dump a bucket of ice over her head more than she needed to swallow every pill in the pharmacy.
She walked through the lobby, occasionally wiping the remaining snot from her nose with a tissue and greeting several staff members, until she spotted that bastard Yoga. She wanted so badly to turn away and ignore the annoying idiot, but the unfamiliar people standing behind him forced her to turn around and return Yoga's greeting.
One of the men was tall, with sexy tan skin like the Calvin Klein models she often saw. She did her best not to let her eyes roam and tried to smile, though it came out rather stiff. Elana gave a polite nod as a formal greeting before her eyes met a pair of sharp eyes that had been watching her the whole time—the eyes belonged to someone with exceptionally fair skin standing beside the sexy tall man, making him stand out from the others.
"Where are you going, El?" Yoga asked, startling Elana. She blinked and shifted her gaze from the man to the irritatingly dapper man.
"To buy acetaminophen," Elana replied casually as she hurried out of the agency building.