"Damn it! Damn it!" Shana raged, pacing back and forth in the president's office, smashing furniture and scattering papers everywhere. Poor Secretary Oh frantically chased after her, trying to collect the flying documents.
"How dare she talk to me like that! Who does she think she is? In the end she's just a department head in some lame planning office—what gives her the right to act so high and mighty. OH.MY.GOD↘!"
"Miss Shana… that 'Kamakiri' woman… she's not someone to take lightly. She's the youngest daughter of the Kamakiri conglomerate's chairman—part of one of Japan's Big Four industrial families," Secretary Oh stuttered, terrified, trying to explain.
"Are you defending her?!" Shana stomped her foot hard on the floor. Though it was a small shake, it felt terrifying on the 46th floor. Secretary Oh could only shrink down, covering her head and stammering, "No, no, Miss Shana… I just—"
Shana gritted her teeth. "Even if I don't care whose daughter she is—she dared to challenge me! I'm going to teach her a lesson!"
Secretary Oh herself was baffled about Mina Kamakiri. Everyone knew Mina was strict, serious, and professional—not the type to exploit her wealthy family name or get involved in petty drama, especially with Shana. Yet Mina's behavior at the café was chilling—she clearly had emotional layers, and wasn't afraid of Shana at all. Looks like she picked a fight despite everything. If it ever got out, the business world would be rocked.
Meanwhile, Du yen stood in the corner, wearing her usual plaid shirt and jeans, completely clueless about the chaos unfolding, while Shana turned the office into a disaster zone. Gently raising her hand, Duyen asked, "Could someone… tell me why I'm here?"
CRASH! The heavy door burst open again. It had already endured way too much "pressure" from various people over the past few days. Today it was Mr. Hung, in his elegant moss‑green suit with a rose pinned to his lapel, face flushed with fury. He threw a stack of documents onto a one-legged table.
"What on earth are you thinking?! I could overlook your unilaterally ending the SCJ partnership, or wanting to go head‑to‑head with them over sales. But at least have some tact??? What kind of president skips a board meeting like you just did? Do you know I had to explain your absence to the shareholders—for two whole hours?!"
Before he could finish, a cigar ashtray flew through the air like a projectile. Perhaps conditioned reflex or just used to Shana's chaos—he dodged it skillfully, though nearly wet himself. Secretary Oh signaled "Don't anger her now," and both he and Mr. Hung nodded rapidly.
"Hello, uncle..." Duyen politely bowed to Mr. Hung.
"Oh, hey Duyen." He responded, clearly not planning to ask why she was here. Everyone knew how unreasonable Shana was. Now she was the most terrifying yet beautiful disaster in the room. Mr. Hung sighed and massaged his temples.
"Yes, I know you want to counter that Japanese heiress. But you have to play this smart. No matter how powerful you think you are, SCJ isn't a rookie. With a flick of a hand, their convenience store chains could be in every corner tomorrow."
Secretary Oh chimed in, "Yes... SCJ's media team is strong, and their customer base is young and drawn to foreign brands. We'll clearly lag behind them. Competing on Q3 revenue seems unrealistic..." She trailed off under Shana's murderous glare and resumed cowering.
Duyen, overhearing from nearby, furrowed her brows and thought a moment. "Hmm…" After a while she asked, "Right now, Masan's strength in its convenience stores is quick‑cook meals, correct?"
Mr. Hung looked surprised the question came from Duyen, but nodded and explained, "Yes, but SCJ also applies that concept in many East Asian markets. They just haven't pushed it in Vietnam yet, although they're number one in the region. Masan adds fresh meat and in‑store grilling."
"If we can strongly promote grilled meat, I think it could work," Duyen said frankly. "To attract the younger demographic, most won't be interested in just buying meat. Or they'll pick foreign convenience chains for their trendy, energetic vibe. We could change our look and use youthful KOLs to review in‑store grilled meat at Masan branches."
Mr. Hung pondered, then looked at Secretary Oh. An unspoken exchange passed between them—a detail that made Duyen feel oddly out of place.
"Shana, pull yourself together. The room's filling up with smoke," Mr. Hung reminded the sulky president. But she had already slumped into a chair, exhausted from trying to follow unfamiliar jargon.
Duyen smiled to herself at Shana's odd behavior. "Oh my god, Shana, you say you're the president? I could die laughing."
Shana snapped awake, the smoke dissipating and her cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. She looked pouty, but not angry at Duyen—a rare sight that neither Mr. Hung nor Secretary Oh could miss. Something unspoken had shifted between them.
---
"Mina, are you okay? You didn't call me last night," Dao—aka Peach‑chan—said. The well‑known model from the Paris fashion scene, with platinum hair and daring style, had just returned to Vietnam after a week-long "study abroad" turned runway opportunity. She was one of Mina's closest famous friends, confident she understood Mina fully—but right now, Mina looked utterly different.
Dao felt the room freeze. A chilling, eerie stillness.
"Mina? Are you okay?" She softened her voice. Mina sighed, massaging her forehead, trying to clear her mind. The atmosphere thawed slightly.
"I'm fine. Who do you think I am? I'm Kamakiri Mina."
Dao managed a reluctant laugh. "Of course you're Kamakiri Mina… but are you really okay? It's 40 °C out and in here it feels like ‑5 °C."
"I'm sorry…" Mina replied weakly. She took a sip of strong liquor, still graceful and beautiful, but with an extra layer of melancholy.
"I... I saw Duyen yesterday..."
Dao responded flatly.
"Oh? And? How's that pig... sorry, how is she?"
Mina shook her head, forcing a laugh. She couldn't stop replaying Duyen's face and voice. She had not slept all night.
"She's... different. And Dao... do you think... rejecting Duyen four years ago... was too cruel?"
"Are you okay, Mina? What happened??"
"Just answer me," Mina insisted, though Dào sensed something deeply wrong.
"Of course not! You didn't like her back then—it was the right decision. If anyone was inappropriate, it was her. Even though she knew about you and Valko…"
"Dao!" Mina cut her off, fixing her with a chilling gaze like lightning. "I told you not to mention anything about Valko…"
Dao froze, sweat trickled down. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean anything… really…"
Mina sighed deeply. No idea why she snapped. She felt suffocated thinking about Duyen and her own past. Despite her status, she'd given up everything—even her life—to get the freedom she had now. Tears stung her eyes. She thought about her family name... Kamakiri. If only she were just a normal girl. Could she and Duyen have been...
Wait—her cheeks heated suddenly. She glanced at Dao, who tilted her head in confusion. After all, except for Mina, who other person knew Mina liked Duyen?
---
4 PM at the OPA corporation building. Mr. Hung and Duyen walked out of the cafeteria, chatting and laughing.
"That idea is smart, Duyen. I should have the planning department start your proposal right away."
Duyen blushed at his strong encouragement. "Oh, it was just a suggestion—I haven't done much."
"Don't be modest. I've observed you for a long time, and I know you're talented. I heard from your father—you graduated in business management from Yelsulin University."
"Yes… uh…" Duyen nodded shyly, not wanting Hung to delve deeper into that.
"But I called you here for a reason," Mr. Hung said with a sigh, retracting his encouragement. "That troublesome miss—she's bored and destructive. You can't let her just sit idle, and getting her to work usually backfires. But you also can't leave her be. And… it seems she's very fond of you. Maybe you could take her somewhere fun?"
Duyen's pretty smile dropped. After endless discussion, he still just wanted her to babysit Shana. She wasn't naive.
"Uncle, you're giving me too much credit…"
"Yes, here." He pulled out a Mercedes key and handed it to Duyen. She felt uneasy.
"This?" she asked.
"Yes. Take it and drive her out of sight… I mean, take her out. Maybe to the new amusement park Everland?"
As if right on cue, strange noises came from the storage room—wet kissing and rustling fabric. Moments later a male staff member spilled out in disheveled clothes, pants unzipped, falling to the floor. Behind him, Shana appeared, impeccably dressed and even more beautiful. Everyone knew what'd happened in that storeroom. Hung and Duyen froze.
Shana calmly replaced her lipstick, recognized Mr. Hung, and took on her usual sour tone. "What's up, Old Man? Didn't I ask you to buy that bag for me…"
Then she spotted Duyen at Hung's side. Her face flushed with shame—caught red‑handed, like an adulterer. Duyen thought: she really is a mess.
Shana panicked. She violently kicked the handsome man still on the floor aside, then stepped toward Duyen. Hung frowned, as if asking, "Seriously???"
"Duyen… it's not what you think…" Shana stammered. But Duyen simply shrugged, eyes rolling.
"Yeah, sure, obvious, right? Why should I care about that?"
Duyen nonchalantly walked away down the corridor.
"Wait, Duyen! Damn it! It's all your fault!" Shana yelled, slamming her heel into Hung's ankle.
"Ah! Damn it! You cause your mess and blame it on me?!" Hung looked down—and Shana was gone, presumably chasing after Duyen to the garage. He rubbed his bruised ankle and looked at the guy on the floor—lifeless, pale, breath gone. Dead.
"Seriously, you're hopeless…"
---
"Duyen! I truly don't know what you're thinking, but it's not what you think. I was just… draining his lifeforce."
In the black convertible Mercedes, driving toward Everland, Shana kept explaining—but only digging herself deeper.
"Y‑yes…" Duyen rolled her eyes, uninterested. "Lifeforce—felt like something you'd do."
"Yes! No—wait—not that!"
"Miss Shana—why are you so worried? I don't care who you sleep with or cross paths with. Why are you even explaining?"
"Told you it's not that!!!" Shana's face burned red, clearly wanting to say more, yet nothing she could say would clear her name. She folded her arms and sulked.
"Even if I have—been with many men before," Shana said haltingly.
Duyen merely nodded.
"Even kings, princes, famous actors…" Shana continued. Duyen still nodded.
Shana glanced at Duyen, noticing she couldn't even spare a glance. A knot of shame, insecurity, guilt swelled. A whirlwind of emotions she hadn't felt in centuries.
"Yes. That's who I am. You hate me for it, don't you? I'm so despicable?"
Duyen looked at Shana, who avoided her gaze, staring out the window. But from the rearview mirror, she saw Shana's teary eyes. Shana was complicated—she wondered how much of those tears were real or fake. Yet, even in this state, Shana looked stunning. No wonder so many men were obsessed with her.
"This is crazy," Duyen whispered.
Shana closed her eyes, forcing the tears out. She knew Duyen would say this, but it still hurt.
"Sometimes I can't figure out who you actually are. A proud woman, violent, whimsical and unpredictable… but other times... you're like a child be left alone."
She wiped tears while choking back sobs.
"Huh?"
"Don't worry, troubled princess. I don't hate you. At least, for now"
Duyen smiled, looked at Shana, and gently stroked her warm, soft auburn hair like velvet. Shana's heart pounded wildly. She noticed the faint teeth marks on Duyen's hand—an earlier wound. Duyen hadn't scolded her after that.
Shana leaned into Duyen's hand—it was warm, attentive, comforting...
familiar and strange all at once.