The air conditioner in the meeting room hummed softly as the glass door closed gently, everyone settling into their seats.

After yesterday’s inexplicable arrangement, the boss’s mysterious move was finally about to be revealed.

Several members of the Marketing team stood by the wall, looking even more tense than them.

Projector lit up.
Screen showed a data report—
first page read:
“Insufficient User Feedback Analysis.”

The head of Marketing cleared his throat and began the presentation:

“We’ve been having a problem with our data—there isn’t enough user feedback.”

“A few days ago, Creative received an idea from the boss—to see whether actively opening an interaction channel could improve this.”

Paused, as if weighing how to transition.

“After reviewing it, we put this proposal together,” then carefully passed over the mouse.

The screenwriter frowned, reached out to take the mouse, and clicked a few times.
On-screen, a line of title text appeared.

“Watching With You?” he read, tone rising.

“…that doesn’t mean us… right?” his gaze shifting toward the marketing team.

They averted their gaze.

“So the promo photos…”
The art lead caught on and urged, “Scroll—quick!”

In the next instant, everyone fell into a brief, stunned silence.

On the screen was a neatly arranged row of promo photos—
all of them were them.

The director broke first.

A few seconds staring at the screen—
then suddenly, hands to his head—

“I knew something was off!”

“Why did the camera team insist on giving me a fountain pen! That’s so cringey!”
Face buried in his hands, a pained groan as he collapsed onto the table.

The art lead remained calm, a clear curve at the corner of the lips.

“Mm… I think I look pretty good.”
“That flowing coat—worth having the fan blast my face dry yesterday.”

Going through them one by one, the eyes suddenly stopped on a photo, a brow lifting slightly:

“Hey… that butt of yours…”
Voice stretching, a finger slowly tracing a circle in the air over the photo.

The manager quickly lowered their head, ears flushing red.
“…I did ask if it could be retouched a bit…”

The Marketing team tried to help explain,
“We actually made several edited versions for the boss…”
“But he said they looked too fake. And…”

Their voices dropped lower and lower,
“He said the audience wouldn’t be that shallow… they’d focus on your professionalism…”

Air froze again.

The art lead turned, lightly patted the manager’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, that’s not something you can control…”

“…Thanks.”

The screenwriter sank back against the chair, eyes hollow, staring at the projection:

“I don’t know whether to look at the proposal first, or start tearing into your conversation…”

Those present exchanged glances, sighed, and in the end, moved on to the main topic.

The presentation dragged on for nearly an hour and a half,
before the meeting finally came to a close.

The director adjusted the notes and looked up:

“So we notify you, and you send us selected pieces?”

The marketing team nodded.
“Yes. The draw, listing, and release—we’ll handle it.”

“Alright. That works. Thanks.”

“Thanks. Good working with you.”

On the way back, the hallway was so quiet you could hear footsteps echo.

The art lead couldn’t help but say:

“The proposal sounds reasonable, but why does it feel like we got sold by the boss?”

The screenwriter gave a cold laugh.

“Take out ‘why.’ We’re sold.”

Hands in his pockets, the director answered, voice low:

“Ah… if we hadn’t felt guilty back then, maybe we could’ve put up a fight.”

The manager added quietly, like trying to convince themself:

“This is the price of making art…”