The cold fluorescent light of the corporate office buzzed overhead, washing the room in an impersonal glow. Papers—dozens of them—were scattered across the desk like confetti from a parade no one enjoyed.
Cassa sighed, long and deep, her brown eyes dull from exhaustion. Her fingers twitched slightly as they hovered over yet another contract, but instead of signing it, she leaned back into the worn-out swivel chair.
"What a hellish day…" she muttered.
Her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders, a little messy from hours of running her hands through it. She glanced at the clock on the wall: 10:03 PM.
"Whatever. I'll finish it tomorrow."
The chair creaked as she stood, grabbing her handbag and stretching out her back. As she exited the office, the silence of the hallway greeted her. Four elevators stood like sentries—two on the right, two on the left. One of the doors slid open just as she pressed the button. She stepped in and hit the basement floor, already anticipating the silence of her car and the comfort of her apartment.
Ding.
The elevator halted at the 8th floor.
A man entered—a suit-clad figure with dark brown hair. Cassa didn't look up. Her attention was on her phone, scanning through her calendar for tomorrow's appointments.
The elevator doors closed.
"Rough day?"
His voice was smooth, almost casual.
She glanced up, trying to get a look at his face. But he stood with his back turned to her, hands in his pockets, face hidden from view.
"…Yeah," she replied simply.
The man nodded, just once, as if he completely understood.
Probably someone from legal. Working late, just like me, she thought.
Then—
"Do you want me to make it peaceful for you?"
Cassa blinked. What?
"Excuse me?" she asked, her tone guarded.
No response.
Her fingers tightened around her phone. Anxiety crept in, curling cold fingers around her spine.
"What do you think, Ms. Cassa?" he said.
She froze. That laugh—quiet, restrained, but malicious—echoed in her ears.
He knows my name.
She quickly stuffed her phone into her bag, her eyes never leaving his back. Her breathing grew shallow.
Ding.
Basement.
The doors opened. She took a step forward.
But before she could exit, a sharp, brutal yank pulled her hair back.
"Agh!" she cried out.
Her body slammed into the elevator wall, pain exploding at the back of her head as it collided with metal. The world blurred. Warm liquid—blood—trickled down her neck.
Vision hazy, she tried to focus. The man loomed over her now.
"Too bad," he said, pulling on gloves. "But since you had a bad day, I should finish you quickly."
"HELP!" she screamed.
But there was no one. No footsteps. No voices. The basement was empty.
"No harsh feelings, Ms. Cassa. It's just like how you can't reject the jobs your company throws at you."
What the hell is he talking about?
Pain pounded against her skull. Her body screamed in protest as he bent down, hands reaching for her neck.
No… no, no, no—
His grip tightened. She kicked, writhed, scratched—anything. But his strength outmatched hers.
"Is this… how I die?" she thought weakly.
Her mind drifted. To the mess of her life. The wasted years. The laziness. The disconnection. The lack of ambition in her youth. The loneliness. The regret.
"…I haven't even made up with her…"
Anger bloomed inside her chest.
Why? Why is this happening?
And yet, even in this moment, she blamed no one but herself.
It's all my fault. My choices. My indifference.
Her eyes locked onto the man. She couldn't see his face—just a dark blur against the harsh light—but one thing was clear.
A tattoo. On the side of his neck. A strange shape… her mind couldn't register it fully.
"…ki…ll… yo…"
Her last words slipped from her lips like air from a broken balloon.
And then, everything went black.