On the other side of the dazzling metropolis of Kibou City, the tall tower of glass which housed the employees and affairs of Sunlight Group gleamed in the morning light.
Compared to other company's buildings, Sunlight Scraper — as it was commonly called — was not a generic glass box.
A mosaic of hexagonal glass panels created the outer layer of the building, like a soccer ball rather than the customary rectangles, each one slightly angled to catch and scatter the light in a different direction.
Traffic flowed endlessly below. People walked past, some stopping to glance up at the tall building, having dreams of their own to work there someday.
Regardless of the spectacle, the interior of the building was where the magic happened.
The atrium buzzed with footsteps and clipped voices, men and women in suits moving briskly between elevators, coffee cups in hand, eyes fixed on deadlines.
The corporation was alive, as always, with its invisible rhythm of power and routine.
On the twentieth floor: Investments Division, Lacey Lawrence walked steadily down the hall, a neat stack of files pressed against her chest.
As usual, she moved like she was working on the White House. She took her job that seriously. Her short red hair framed her pretty face, the ends brushing her jawline.
She was a sharp young woman, and she dressed sharply as well. A navy blouse tucked into a gray skirt was what covered her slender, smooth body and her round bosoms.
As she walked, her heels clicked against the polished floor, despite the chatter in the office, it was still audible.
Her expression, however, was the same as ever: unremarkable. She had mastered the art of sounding indifferent to anything or anyone she dealt with.
Except her friends of course. In fact, the only times one would catch Lacey in a happy or chummy mood, was when she was gisting, drinking or shopping.
Any designer brand was her favorite brand. Wine or clothing.
More importantly, Lacey was Dylan's secretary.
Which was why her heel clicking had come to a stop when she arrived in front of the cubicle-like office which belonged to Dylan.
She knocked once against the partition wall before sliding the files down onto the desk.
"Mr. Lee, these came in from—"
She stopped.
The chair was empty. As a matter of fact, it didn't seem at all like the desk had been touched that morning.
Her brows pinched faintly. Dylan Lee had never once missed the morning routine.
He was the kind of employee who, despite being disliked, always arrived on time, always stayed until closing. He had never been late—not once.
Lacey pursed her lips, the faintest hint of surprise flashing across her features before she collected the files again.
"What's with that creep now, huh? He would show up to work even though he caught the flu."
Her eyes narrowed in thought. "It's not like he even deserves this position, and he still shows up everyday. So why isn't he here today?"
Scoffing to prove to herself that she didn't care, she turned sharply and walked down the hall.
"At least I don't have to look at that terrifying face of his. It's like he's staring into my soul with those dark eyes of his."
"Eugghh. I hate him."
But whatever. She still had to report this.
Once she arrived at the end of the hall, she knocked on the door before she was permitted to come in.
Diana Miller looked dishevelled when Lacey walked in. The secretary didn't know but Diana had been touching herself just seconds ago, the thoughts of yesterday still fresh in her mind.
She sat behind her sleek mahogany desk, her blue eyes finding its icy form as Lacey stood in front of her, clearly having something to say.
Today, Diana had dressed as sharp and polished as possible, to hide that anything had happened yesterday, and to subconsciously impress her young employee.
Even though she would never admit it.
Lacey greeted and placed the files down.
Diana looked down at it for a while then picked it up. Her voice was as clipped as usual. "Why are you bringing those here? These files are for Dylan to cross-check and finalize."
Lacey hesitated only a second. "Yes ma'am, but Mr. Lee didn't come in this morning. Not sure if he's running late or…" She trailed off with a small shrug.
Diana stilled, her fingers pausing on the pen in her hand. "Isn't it a bit too late to be… running late?"
Lacey shrugged again. "It's his first time skipping work, and he didn't even call."
Diana's mind reeled with multiple possibilities. What the hell was that boy up to now? Did he not come because of what happened yesterday? Does he feel guilty and is scared to see her face?
What if he was planning to do something with that picture?
Not only that, if the higher ups found out he missed a work day, they'll come asking questions.
~~~~~~
Back in his apartment, Dylan stood frozen in his doorway, staring at the two naked girls in front of him. His pulse hammered against his ribs.
"Hey, Dylan!" Ashley beamed him one of those her killer smiles, but he was too fixated at her swinging perky breasts to notice.
That was when clarity struck. There was no way Ashley and her friend from last night was just going to walk to his front door naked.
So the only explanation was the glasses.
[Truth Glasses: This item allows the user to see through clothing, and it also measure levels of sexual frustration and desire in women].
'Fuck.'
He yanked them off.
In an instant, the two girls were no longer bare.
Ashley stood in a casual outfit: jeans and a tank top, her blond hair bouncing lightly as she smiled.
Beside her, the girl from last night with short black hair and sharp Japanese features stood quietly, dressed in a dark blouse and skirt.
Dylan exhaled slowly. So it really works..
"H—hey," he replied awkwardly.
"I thought you'd be at work by now?" Ashley asked.
"Oh… I uhm… I skipped." Dylan said it like it was a random school day. "I have some work… to do."
Ashley tilted her head. "Well, I just came to apologize for keeping you up late, and also thank you for carrying me to bed last night." She smiled amicably. "That was really sweet."
Dylan's throat tightened. "…It was no problem."
Ashley half-bounced. "This is my friend Yumi. She ran into you last night when you were leaving, and she was a little worried. You see, she thought you were a creep who snuck into my apartment, so I came to show her that you're a really nice guy who helped fix my TV."
Dylan chuckled, the sound stiff and nervous. "Yeah. Totally understandable."
He looked at Yumi, who just stared at him.
"It's nice… to meet you," she mumbled like she was entranced.
Dylan's brows furrowed. "You too."
She still stared. Her dark eyes locked on him like something had snagged her interest and wouldn't let go.
Ashley tugged her friend's arm gently. "Anyway, we'll talk later. Thanks again, Dylan."
"Sure," he muttered, stepping forward as the two walked away. Ashley's goodbye was light, carefree, while Yumi continued to stare at him, over her shoulder, until the corner swallowed her up.
Dylan frowned once they disappeared. It was probably an effect of [Sovereignty], he told himself.
The door clicked shut. He sighed, leaning against it.
He couldn't believe he had just seen Ashley's naked body, and boy, what a splendid sight it was.
No!
That was wrong. Dylan might be a pervert but he wasn't that kind of pervert.
He narrowed his brows. Or was he?
Inspecting the glasses one more time, he sighed. 'Now I know how Superman felt. Having all that power and knowing it's not the right thing to use it.'
He played with the thin rims. 'But there has to be a way to use the other feature without having to see the women's nakedness.'
He turned the Item upside down. 'Is there an off switch somewhere here?'
Another knock rattled the door, vibrating on his back.
Dylan groaned. They're back already?
He turned around and tipped the door open. "What is it now—!?"
His words caught in his throat.
Standing there in the hallway, lips tight and eyes sharp as glass, was Diana Miller.
His boss.