The glass building was imposing, but the real intimidation began at the front desk, where a stern-faced receptionist with a slicked-back bun eyed him like a suspicious intruder capable of being a criminal.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, her tone laced with doubt that even Milo could hear clear as day. He had no doubt she would brush him off as unimportant and send him off on his way if it were an option.

"Oh yes, I assume so? I got a message from a manager of an artist currently working here and... hold on, let me get it for you-" He fumbled in his pocket to get his phone out, almost letting it slip from his fingers in nervous tension. "There you go..." 

She narrowed her eyes, squinting to read off the screen and Milo lamented the fact that he hadn't switched the off low brightness default that his phone usually was on. Low brightness was his way off keeping his privacy in jampacked trains from nosey passengers way too interested in his business — but now, turned out to be his latest sabotage.

She hummed non-committedly and got back to typing on her computer screen. "Room 307 on the 3rd floor. Kindly use the guest elevator."

If he were more confidant, eager or social he would have guided the lady on her social skills but since he was none of the above, he simply muttered a word of gratitude out of basic decency and speed walked away from her strict gaze.

Who needs security with someone like that at the entrance? If Milo owned Metronome and was looking to cut costs, he would start with security due to the sheer lack of need of one. 

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Room 307 was one of the music rooms from what the floor plan said. The very fact that they had a floor plan for every level in the elevator itself showed how big the place was.

As soon as he pushed the door open, a piano melody of Hakuna Matata which was previously inaudible due to the soundproofing of the room leaked out. A lean figure sat hunched at the piano, back to the door, solemnly tapping out a tune Milo only ever linked to childhood laughter — the dissonance was almost absurd. 

"I don't think the message of the song matches the vibe, dude." Milo blurted without thinking. The man on the piano abruptly stopped playing, making Milo very aware of the fact that  he was probably in the wrong room and had just interrupted what could very well be an important practice session of a budding artist. 

"I mean...you play well enough I guess." Milo muttered in an attempt to draw attention away from the fact that his opinion hadn't been asked for. "Takes a lot for one to turn my happy go lucky anthem into a tearful ballad." He finished off with a thumbs up, cringing internally.

The man spun his chair halfway, just enough to let Milo glimpse his profile — and the jolt of recognition hit like a sucker punch. Hilarious, really, that Milo hadn't recognized him sooner. He'd seen that face more than his own mother's.

The man playing the piano fixed his gaze on Milo, a frown taking over his features, eyebrows creasing into a perfect frown. His skin showed signs of being well taken care of and despite constantly being under the glare of cameras for majority of the time, he looked no different from the photoshoots and pictures Milo had edited on his fan page.

Noel Markou stared at him in part confusion and part surprise. A minute later, his expression settled into a calm, neutral one. "And you are...?" He asked.

Three clashing thoughts fought to the forefront of his brain. Firstly, he wasn't in the wrong room after all and the fact that he had a reasonable reason to stand there made him less uneasy. Secondly, Noel didn't know him—whether that was because he was oblivious to the proposal his manager had made to Milo or because he only recognized Milo for his fan page and not as an actual person was unclear. Either way, it annoyed Milo. Finally, Noel looked like he was two minutes away from a shoot, hair perfectly messed up and face all smooth and attractive.

Noel tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, probably wondering why Milo didn't reply to his valid questions and looked guilty to boot. The answer to that was, Milo was starstruck and everything from the last two chaotic days simply vanished the moment he registered who sat before him. Of course. Noel Markou.

The slam of the door opening startled him into action, turning to see Manager Kim walks in. "Ah, you're here." He nodded at Milo in acknowledgement. "I'm sorry, the meeting took a few more minutes than anticipated. I hope you went over the mail a few times." 

"Mail? Kim, what's going on?" Noel questioned sharply, breaking Milo out of his rose-tinted haze.

Manager Kim rolled his eyes. "You didn't read the papers I left on your desk today morning. Why am I not surprised?" His tone turned sardonic to the end, making Milo turn to Noel in curiosity to how he would respond. What kind of person was he when not in front of cameras.

Noel simply gritted his teeth and replied in kind. "Because you sent all kinds of PR contracts, and I told you I don't want to bother with those. I will not answer an interview question with bullshit flowery language and faux smiles."

Milo made a time out gesture. "Not to interrupt your fight, but could we maybe bring the only stranger here up to speed with why he's here so he's kind of entertained and not just standing to the side?"

Noel folded his hands, a glare boring into his manager who stood unfazed and unsurprised. "That is actually a wonderful question. Since Manager Kim seems to be the only one who knows shit, let him do the honours."

To Manager Kim's credit, he didn't have a hint of guilt on his face for someone who was showing incompetency in one of the main things he was hired to do- schedule management. He pushed his transparent glasses further up his nose. "This is Mr Owens, he runs the biggest Markouholics page online-"

"Jesus, how do you say that with a straight face?" Noel groaned, burying his face in his hands and continuing to mumble against them. "Hesitate to speak sometimes, would you?"

Milo blinked, eyebrows shooting up — half offended, half confused. "What's embarrassing about that? It's my job and has earned me my keep for ten years now. Sorry if I don't see the problem here. You should be embarrassed for that reaction, if anything."

Heat prickled under Milo's collar — equal parts anger and shame. He'd heard the jabs before. That his work wasn't a real job. That even influencers had more dignity. He was a fanboy, a coward hiding behind a profile that didn't even disclose his name, it was shameful and a temporary obsession. 

These where statements Milo had heard plenty of times and they were once responsible for many sleepless nights full of self-doubt. He'd fought hard to unlearn that shame. Hearing it now — from Noel of all people — stung like hell. It made his efforts feel useless and above all it brought back the shame and ridicule he felt for taking the situation so seriously. 

Noel on the other hand narrowed his eyes at the sharp words directed at him. "Aren't you the superfan of that media page? I reposted your edits a week back, I think. What, are you here for a scoop?" Noel's frown deepened into a furious expression as he turned to Manager Kim, his volume rising steadily. "Is that what this is? Since I refuse to show up for interviews, you'll just bring along some mindless fan, I'll flash them a smile and it will make me look better?"

Mindless fan? 

"I don't know how many times you want me to repeat myself-" Noel continued, not paying attention to Milo's growing discomfort. "-but I DON'T. WANT. INTERVIEWS. Cancel my fucking schedule for god's sake. I don't want this. I don't want any of-" He shook his head, pulling at the roots of his dyed blond hair in frustration, not completing his sentence in favor of taking deep breaths to bring his breathing back under control. 

Milo realised, Noel didn't want to clear his name, make a statement, nothing. That was probably the reason for radio silence on his part the past few days. What he struggled to understand however, was why. Did he actually do those atrocious things the media claimed he did?

Milo was surprised out of his thoughts when he noticed Noel's eyes on him. His breathing had steadied down and probably noticing his thoughtful stare, his lips twisted into a miserable grin before turning into a bitter chuckle. "I look crazy. Fucking crazy." 

Quiet all this time, Manager Kim finally spoke. "Mr Owens had announced he would take his page down, which is when I reached out to him. I imagine the news was a huge shock to him which resulted in him taking these drastic measures despite running the Markouholics page for the past ten years."

"Well at least that was a rational decision to take in light of recent news. I appreciate critical thinking." Noel sent a thumbs up his way. "Good job."

Kim continued as if Noel hadn't said a word. "Milo Owens has kindly agreed to accompany you for a week however, under no surveillance or influence in return for an honest report article on his experience and opinion on the matter."

Even though the clause of him having to write an article hadn't been there in the mail, Milo wasn't surprised. He had expected some form of persuasion during negotiation; he was just happy that they didn't plan on forcing him to give a positive one. His voice was still his and he had freedom in being as honest as he wanted to be.

Noel seemed to be analysing the idea in his head, his gaze somewhere behind Milo, lost in thought. "So, he's gearing up to write a Noel Markou loses his marbles special, is he?" He finally said after a while. "So, he barges into my life, digs through my mess, then cashes in on it?"He scoffed. "Riddle me this; how on earth did this idea strike you as even a moderately good one? Just how desperate are you, Kim?"

A bunch of papers were fetched as Kim slammed them on the piano in front of Noel, dramatically smashing random keys, making both Milo and Noel flinch at the jarring, mismatched jumble of notes. 

"The contract mentions the clause of your personal information unrelated to the scandal being off limits and under a non-disclosure agreement. I have put in considerable effort in wording specific enough to appease both parties."

Kim's tone was professional and cordial, but Milo got a feeling that a lot of effort had gone into it and he was therefore on his last bit of patience. Milo gingerly reached for the papers and skimmed through it. Clauses like-

____________________________________

"Information on allergies and health issues are included in the ND. Mr. Owens will be granted full access to company records relevant to the scandal, including but not limited to security footage, employee statements, and digital correspondence. The investigative window is limited to a 30-day access period, after which the contract expires. Both parties may revoke access at any time with a written notice."

"In the event of hostile or obstructive behavior by the subject or agency that impedes progress, Mr. Owens reserves the right to terminate the agreement without penalty and retain any findings gathered up to that point. Mr. Owens reserves the right to present his findings in his own words, provided all content is submitted for agency review prior to release."

____________________________________

Most of them sounded fair for Milo, convenient, even. One clause at the end, however caught his attention, bringing up a hint of doubt and caution. He read and reread it before pointing at it. "What does this one mean? It looks suspicious in my opinion. I would like to strike it out."

In curiosity, Noel bent forward to read the clause pointed out by Milo, a whiff of faint perfume wafting through the air around him. Milo took a small sniff before realising what he was doing, strictly redirecting his attention to the matter at hand. Fortunately, Noel didn't look like he had noticed. 

The line in question was italicised. "Mr. Markou and the agency shall not be held liable for any psychological or emotional harm experienced during the process of this investigation."

"This is the entertainment industry Mr Owens." Manager Kim commented dryly, shifting back to his surname to address him, which seemed to reiterate distance and professionalism between them, Milo noticed. "You of all people know the kinds of unpredictable mental distress these things can cause. We can't guarantee assurance of no mental distress considering the nature of the investigation and your relation to Mr Markou. This clause is simply making that clear."

Sure, he understood that it made complete sense. Milo couldn't brush off the uneasiness that stemmed from his cautious nature, however. Still, the contract as a whole sounded pretty accommodating, more than he was expecting it to be. And Milo had made the decision before arriving there anyway.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, then. Where's the pen? Let's shake on it."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝