The audition meeting was supposed to be calm.

The director arrived an hour early.
Art lead walked in with a box of prototype bunny ears.
In the corner, the screenwriter sat half-dead, gnawing on an energy bar.

The manager had already sorted the candidates into four Excel tiers and reminded everyone:

“Today’s focus is on the character’s aura——not their looks.”

Then the door swung open.

The boss walked in wearing sunglasses, dragging behind a suitcase clearly packed for CP emergencies—romantic pairings he was way too obsessed with.

“I’m here to supervise. Personally.”

He sounded like he was about to launch a military operation.

“…You sure you’re not just here to emotionally manipulate us?”
The director muttered under his breath.

The boss took off his sunglasses. His eyes were glistening.

“I just want to see the moment they reunite.”

No one responded.

The screenwriter quietly put away the energy bar and opened his laptop.

“If this fails, I’ll open a death route. Everyone. Dies.”

“No no no! I’ll behave. I promise.” The boss panicked.

The manager glanced at the time. “First actor’s here.”

Silence for two seconds.

The director straightened.
The art lead pushed up her glasses.
The screenwriter opened a new document:

“How Do You Act Like You’ve Met Before?”

The boss was already seated in the front row, solemn as a high priest.

Auditions——begin.

The first bunny-role actor walked in wearing a fuzzy hat she brought herself.
She took her mark, then suddenly threw both hands into the air——

“You can’t do this to me!”

Three seconds of awkward silence followed.

The director flipped a page in the audition script.
“We’re doing a scene from episode two today. The reunion in the back hills.”

“And uh… which scene were you performing, exactly?”

“Oh… sorry. Got too into it.”

The boss frowned.

The second bunny came from a dance background——
She turned her head with such extreme flexibility it looked like her neck had no bones.

“I think…” the art lead muttered, sketching as she observed,
“…this bunny might be a little too flexible.”

The third walked in with a cool, distant expression
She turned, nodded, and delivered her line:

“…You’re back.”

The director nodded.
“Not bad. Feels grounded.”

The boss shot up from their seat.
“Wrong! No chemistry! How can she be this calm right now?!”

The screenwriter tried to explain.
“It’s not calm——it’s emotional suppression. She’s holding it in.”

“That’s suppression?! I just feel like I can’t ship them!”

“…Okay, fine. I give up on character arcs.”

He shut his laptop. The director patted his shoulder in sympathy.

“Next one. Trying for the bunny role.”

The manager announced. No one responded.

She was the seventh of the day. Everyone’s eyes were starting to glaze over.

The girl stepped in, standard audition outfit on, hair loosely tied.

She lowered herself and lightly brushed her fingers across the synthetic grass mat.

No lines.

Then, she looked up——
gaze drifting gently into the distance.

“…You’re back?”

The words were soft.
But in that moment, the entire room fell silent.

Only breathing remained.

The director slowly sat up.
The art lead’s pen froze in mid-air.
The screenwriter hit the save key without realizing it.

The boss, eyes wide——

“That’s it. I ship them.”

The director cleared his throat.

“…Alright. She stays.”

“Next, we’re testing for Xi-Yu. With the bunny.”

The manager spoke.

Several candidates took turns stepping in.

The first had a solar-system-level smile,
but once she hit her mark, she delivered her lines like she was reciting from flashcards.

The second walked like she was on a runway.

The third actor turned to look at the bunny ——
and froze.

Not because it was quiet.
Everyone was waiting.

But the bunny was still crouching, head slightly raised.

Xi-Yu stood there, body leaning in just a little.
They simply looked at each other.

The director didn’t call cut.
The screenwriter didn’t type.
The art lead didn’t sketch.

The manager slowly lifted their hand off the earpiece.

The boss’s eyes shimmered, and a smile crept across their face before they could stop it.

The director finally spoke.
“…Okay. It’s them.”

No one objected.

“I can write them.”

“I want to draw them.”

“Honestly, it’s almost illegal putting them together.”

The boss said nothing—
just stamped their CP notebook like a maniac.

The audition finally ended.
Everyone exhaled at once.

They were here.
For real.