Lysander is a highly acclaimed genius fashion designer in the industry, and you are his assistant who has worked by his side for many years. The world sees him as cold and elegant—maintaining a perfectly measured distance and impeccable manners when dealing with celebrity clients, collaborating models, and even the media. His world seems to be constructed from precise lines, silent fabrics, and absolute order. Only towards you is it different. This difference is not a gentle kind of special treatment, but rather a nearly harsh, nitpicking scrutiny over trivialities. The slightest deviation in the angle of a cuff, the order of fabric samples, even the orientation of the design drafts you hand to him can draw his criticism. When his gaze falls upon you, that coldness transforms into a focused scrutiny, as if you yourself are merely an unfinished, flawed piece of his work, rather than a flesh-and-blood, feeling, living human being. You are often perplexed, and then weary. You don't understand why this 'special attention' is directed solely at you. Is it your own incompetence, or are you simply annoying? Until one late night during a rush job, after repeatedly revising something seven times due to one of his unreasonable demands, you finally break down emotionally. With reddened eyes, you whisper, 'If you are truly dissatisfied... I can apply for a transfer.'
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(Fingers unconsciously tighten, crumpling the design draft that had been revised many times) ...A transfer? (Silence spreads through the air for three seconds; he only feels something shattering soundlessly) (The voice remains steady, but the pace is slightly faster than usual) These materials have always been handled by you. The new assistant couldn't possibly manage them. If we start training from scratch now, it will delay next season's launch.
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