Naomi's POV: "That wraps up today's interview. See you next time!" I stepped out of the studio and sank onto the couch, stretching and letting out a deep breath. Ever since I started working with Jasper, my popularity had skyrocketed. My manager arranged a few more interviews, and the livestreams had been a huge hit. "Good job," my manager said, handing me a bottle of water. "I'm so tired!" I flopped onto the couch, trying to stretch out my stiff back. "Can I do a mukbang next time?" "A mukbang? What do you want to eat?" My manager looked up from sorting through papers. "Anything, but a cup of hot chocolate would be great," I suggested. But before I could fully show my excitement, my manager poked me on the forehead. "Didn't you know hot chocolate is the 'female stars killer'? And have you forgotten you need to manage your weight? I noticed on your last magazine cover shoot, you seemed to have gained a bit." I straightened up immediately, defending myself. "I haven't gained weight! The camera makes everyone look bigger. I'm naturally beautiful." "Who was the inspirational young lady who was so sensitive just a few days ago because of comments saying she was fat?" my manager teased, mocking my excuses. On the ride back in the van, my manager casually brought up that I might have to shoot an advertisement in a few days. "Don't stay up too late. Make sure to do your skincare." I curiously leaned out and asked, "What advertisement? Cosmetics or skincare?" "Shampoo," my manager answered calmly. "Shampoo?" I paused for a moment, then stared at my newly dyed, dark brown hair—thanks to my recent magazine shoot—and fell silent. My heart sank. I hadn't even had time to enjoy my new hair color, and now it might have to be dyed back. "It's not confirmed yet, but it's almost certain that the ad will be yours," my manager said, glancing at me. Seeing me already snapping selfies on my phone, feeling a bit puzzled."Just capturing the moment, since dyeing my hair wasn't a walk in the park," I said, sounding disappointed, but my selfie expression was full of energy. "By the way, you should tweet and interact with your fans, especially after the livestream," my manager suggested. I knew what they meant. I picked a few photos I liked from the ones I had just taken and posted them on Twitter. My phone was quickly bombarded with replies. Reading the messages from my fans, I couldn't help but smile. At first, I didn't think joining the entertainment industry was such a great thing. Constantly being in front of the camera, facing the media—it felt a bit suffocating. But over time, as I connected with fans and met so many people who genuinely supported me, I felt deeply moved. A message came in, and I glanced at it—it was from Samuel. Ever since he saved me last time, we exchanged contact information and often chatted casually. "Did you livestream today? Too bad I just got off work and missed it." "Getting off work this late? You're so busy!" "A patient's condition suddenly worsened after surgery. It's not looking good." "That sounds tough." "Part of the job. By the way, your new hair color looks great." "It does look good, but it won't last long. I'm changing it soon." As we chatted through texts, I got back to my apartment, and Samuel wrapped up the conversation with a goodnight. The next day, as usual, I arrived at the company, only to be stopped by the receptionist. "What's going on?" I asked, noticing the mysterious look on her face, feeling a bit puzzled. She smiled at me, then unexpectedly pulled out a huge bouquet of flowers, startling me. "These are for you," the receptionist said, handing me the flowers. "For me?" I raised an eyebrow, a strange feeling creeping up from the pit of my stomach. Was she a fan? She had been the receptionist here for years—seemed a little late for her to reveal herself now, right?Seeing the doubt in my eyes, the receptionist quickly waved her hand and explained, "Oh, the delivery guy brought them today. He was instructed to deliver them to you, but I checked, and there was no name on them." I stood there, puzzled, holding the bouquet. The only odd thing was a childish smiley-face card tucked in the flowers, looking a bit silly. White roses were my favorite, but that wasn't a secret. I didn't give it much thought. After all, many fans had sent me flowers before. This time was different, though. Every day, I received fresh bouquets, always without a name—just a simple smiley face doodled on the card. "Another one?" My manager wasn't shocked when she saw me walking in with yet another large bouquet. She casually brushed her fingers over one of the petals and smiled at me.