Matchmaker Mayhem

The broadcast studio was unlike anything Ava had ever experienced.

Bright spotlights bathed the stage in a golden glow, casting long beams through a haze of meticulously choreographed fog. Every corner gleamed—walls of LED panels shimmered with soft pink hues, floor lights embedded beneath polished tiles blinked in gentle rhythm, and overhead, cranes moved with fluid grace as cameras whirred on silent tracks.

Ava stood just behind the curtain, her heels clicking softly against the lacquered floor as she peered toward the stage. The curved rows of seating in front of her were filling fast. Studio staff guided Tokyo’s glittering elite to their places—celebrities, influencers, tech moguls, even politicians. The buzz of anticipation was tangible, vibrating under her skin like static.

Japanese and English voices mingled in a whirlwind of murmurs, laughter, and digital chatter. A massive screen hovered above the stage displaying the show’s logo in gold calligraphy: LOVE LIVE: TOKYO.

Ava tugged gently on the sleeve of her rose-gold silk blazer, adjusting the wireless earpiece nestled behind her hair. "Is it too late to fake a flu and run?"

Beside her, Ryan Kim looked sinfully good in a tailored charcoal suit. His sleeves were pushed up just enough to expose his strong forearms, and his expression? Pure focus. Eyes sharp, jaw tight. He scanned the crowd like a man preparing for battle.

His hand found the small of her back, grounding her. "If you run, I’m coming with you."

Ava gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Still think this was a good idea?"

"No." Ryan’s hand tightened. "But I think you’re going to burn the whole place down—in the best way."

She glanced toward the center of the stage. Two transparent chairs stood on either side of a lacquered red platform, flanked by cherry blossom arrangements and backed by a projection screen that currently displayed nothing but a countdown clock.

One chair for her.