Henry Foster smiled kindly. “No need to introduce the other me, right? Didn’t you keep asking me today if William Clark would come? He’s right over there—aren’t you going to say hello?”

Andrew Bennett still hadn’t processed the fact that he was “seeing the real William Clark.”

His earlobes flushed imperceptibly red, and he spoke as if waking from a dream: “H-hello.”

Under William Clark’s gaze, Andrew Bennett followed Henry Foster into the room, politely shaking hands with Sarah Cooper and Little Ethan.

When it was William Clark’s turn, Andrew Bennett’s palm was sweaty; it took real effort to calm himself before he introduced himself again: “Hello, nice to meet you, my name is Andrew Bennett.”

Henry Foster chimed in, “Zhouzhou really likes you—a lot. He even mentioned you during last night’s livestream, and stood up to the haters.”

Little Ethan raised a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I saw it too!”

Andrew Bennett’s hand hung awkwardly in midair.

His skin was so pale it almost dazzled the eyes; the veins on the back of his hand were clearly visible. Just like the rest of him—so flawless it was almost unreal, like a delicate porcelain figure that could be shattered with a touch.

But William Clark said nothing.

He ignored the outstretched hand, showing no intention of shaking it.

“William Clark?” Sarah Cooper assumed he was still sulking and gently reminded him, “We agreed to help out the newcomer.”

Henry Foster didn’t get it, thinking maybe William Clark found Andrew Bennett’s appearance a bit too cold, so he tried to smooth things over: “Well, our Zhouzhou may look like an ice beauty, but deep down he’s really pure, honestly. He’s never even dated before—he’s super easy to get along with.”

Andrew Bennett: “???” Does he not care about my dignity?

What kind of weird introduction was that? Was his agent secretly running some new business?!

At that, William Clark finally looked up at the person standing in front of him.

It was only then that he noticed Andrew Bennett’s choker.

An almost transparent lace choker wrapped around a beautifully curved neck. It delicately covered the gland, adding a touch of restraint, but even more clearly signaling that its wearer was a sweet, desirable, unmarried Omega.

In just a few short years, Andrew Bennett had grown into what he was now.

Facing him, he acted as if it really was their first meeting, flawless in his composure, even daring to brazenly lie to the company.

William Clark spoke coldly: “You want me to mentor him? Maybe in the next life.”

Andrew Bennett withdrew his hand in shock, the red behind his ears spreading to his cheeks, finally coloring that cool face with a flush.

“……”

What was going on?

Henry Foster’s smile froze on his face, and Little Ethan’s mouth formed a small O.

Before Sarah Cooper could speak, William Clark added mercilessly, “I really don’t like this type.”

Henry Foster hurriedly interjected, “That’s just because you don’t know him yet. Spend some time together, get to know each other, and you’ll see our Zhouzhou—”

“Do you know him?” William Clark’s words were directed at Henry Foster, but his gaze stayed on Andrew Bennett. “I’d bet even you don’t really know this artist at all.”

There was nothing tangible in his eyes; William Clark didn’t show a hint of disdain or dislike.

Yet Andrew Bennett felt as if that look was burning right through him, about to leave a hole. In that moment, he realized that in front of this person, he was nothing—just a petty opportunist waiting for a handout.

To be honest, Andrew Bennett could understand that kind of thinking, but William Clark was nothing like he’d imagined.

To judge someone so bluntly just because you don’t like their “type” was rude and arrogant.

William Clark himself was as wild and rebellious as his whole aura suggested.

The embarrassment on Andrew Bennett’s face slowly faded. He just looked at William Clark in return, saying nothing.

But William Clark looked away.

Sarah Cooper stepped forward at this point. “What’s with you? This is work, not a blind date—since when do you get to pick a ‘type’? We just agreed to help out a newcomer, that’s all!”

They all knew the real reason for bringing in a newcomer—including Henry Foster. Mentoring was just an added condition, if not an outright pretext.

A win-win opportunity was right in front of them.

“You said I could just come and take a look first, right?” William Clark cut her off, his pleasant voice calm, with a hint of mockery. “I’ve looked. The answer is no.”

With that, William Clark ignored everyone in the room, pulled a baseball cap over his face, and pretended to nap.

It was the kind of behavior you’d expect from a three-year-old, not a day older.

The room fell silent for a while.

As everyone stood there at a loss, William Clark said coldly, “Get out.”

This was directed at Henry Foster and the others.

No matter how good-tempered, Henry Foster was still a manager who favored his own artist. He immediately and efficiently led Andrew Bennett out, with Sarah Cooper hurrying after them to explain.

Once the outsiders were gone, Sarah Cooper couldn’t hold back any longer. She yanked off William Clark’s cap, glaring at his wide-awake face. “So what’s the real reason? What’s wrong with him? Give me an explanation.”

William Clark was unhurried, gently taking the cap back and covering his face again.

He said, “What a coincidence, finding my ex-boyfriend for me. Thanks a lot.”

*

At the end of the annual party, the company arranged a prize drawing.