[There's an auxiliary chapter above this one, I think you should take a look]
"Aw… aw… aww… oh my God… you're so strong!"
A woman's voice streamed out from the inner section of a grand office perched at the very top floor of a skyscraper.
"Go on… give it to me harder!" she wailed next, her words ricocheting off the marble walls and echoing straight into the minds of the two unlucky souls standing outside the door.
"Mmhhmm… mphhm… mmphhmm…" came the guttural groans of a man, breath ragged, thick, like someone sawing through an iroko tree trunk.
And then came the rhythm:
KPA-KPA… KPA-KPA-KPA.
A precise beat, like flesh meeting flesh in a very intimate percussion.
The two waiting outside threw each other guilty glances, sharing a shame that wasn't even theirs to carry.
One was a woman with a slim, professional frame wrapped in a brown suit and matching skirt. A file was clutched nervously in her hand; the file she needed to deliver to her boss as a matter of urgency.
Only now, with the symphony of groans and flesh-beating echoing from the inner room, Isabel was reconsidering her life choices.
The other, a man, stood tall beside her; white shirt, blue-striped tie, black trousers, and mirror-shined shoes that practically reflected his face.
His frame was fit, the shirt hugging his muscles. His thick, shaggy beard framed a face that looked like it had seen too much… but right now, even he was struggling to keep a straight face.
"Easy now… easy… aw, Star, it hurts!" the woman inside cried again, her voice raw.
The man inside; the boss, groaned back, his words strained and panting: "Y-you wanted this, right?"
Isabel's knees twitched. Heat was crawling up her thighs, and she shifted uncomfortably. The thought of her boss: Star, in there with another woman was… infuriating, disgusting… and, shamefully, a little exciting. She swallowed it down and turned to her colleague.
"Oh my God, Kelvin… she's being too dramatic," Isabel muttered, scrunching her face as though she was disgusted. But her legs betrayed her; they trembled with every muffled KPA-KPA sound.
Kelvin smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Wouldn't you be, if it were you, Secretary I-sa-bel?" He dragged out her name like a tease.
Isabel spun to him, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"
Unfortunately, Isabel's tone rose too loud... loud enough to cut through the wall and interrupt the performance inside.
Inside, Star's voice cut sharply through the moans.
"Who's there?"
Both Isabel and Kelvin froze.
Their blood turned to ice. They knew their boss too well, and this… this was the kind of trouble that got people fired.
Kelvin leaned sideways, muttering through the corner of his mouth with clenched teeth, his heart pounding.
"Secretary… this is all your fault. Couldn't keep your mouth shut."
Isabel's lips trembled. She tried to whisper back, but her throat locked tight with fear.
Her body tightened. "I… I…"
She could barely breathe when Star barked again, louder this time.
"I said... WHO'S THERE?"
Kelvin's eyes flicked to Isabel. His lips formed one word: Talk.
Her heart thudded like a war drum. "I-it's me… Isabel!" she stammered, bracing herself for doom.
Her memory burned with the fate of the last secretary, who was fired on the spot for barging in on Star mid-session with a red-haired woman, whose breasts and hips bounced with every thick thrust thrown on her by Star.
And now here she was, about to suffer the same punishment. Her heart drummed in her chest as she prayed; 'please, Dear God, don't let me die today.'
There was silence. A dreadful, stretching silence. Then Star's voice came, jovial and casual, as though nothing had happened:
"Oh, Isabel? Come on in."
Her eyes widened. Wait… what?
Her brain spiraled. Was he asking her to join? No way. She had heard how the lady inside was screaming, like she was being torn apart by passion and punishment in equal measure. If Isabel joined, she doubted she'd be able to walk for a week.
But then his voice thundered again:
"I said COME IN, Goddamn it!"
With trembling hands, Isabel pushed open the door. She shut her eyes tight, lungs flat like she was about to be executed. Heat pulsed under her skirt, a shameful betrayal of her professionalism.
The door creaked open fully…
"ISABEL!" Star greeted in his usual cheerful morning voice. His chest heaved, sweat glistening across his skin.
Her eyes flew open.
And her world collapsed into sheer embarrassment.
Star wasn't tangled in sin. He wasn't even undressed. He was wearing boxing gloves.
So was the "screaming lady" a silver-haired girl with cropped locks brushing her neck, her athletic frame wrapped in a cropped sports bra and tight track pants. She looked more like a fitness model than a temptress.
The KPA-KPA sound? Therefore was Punches against padded gloves. Not flesh on flesh. Neither was the whole; "give it to me harder screams" and "it hurts scream" a sinful moan, it was just practically training exercise screams.
Star wore only a singlet, his chest carved like marble, abs practically sculpted by gods. Isabel found her eyes shamelessly glued to them before she slapped herself inwardly.
'Idiot! What were you thinking?'
She and Kelvin stood stiff, ashamed, wishing for the earth to open up and swallow them.
Star, oblivious to their embarrassment, wiped his sweat with a towel and asked casually,
"So, Isabel, what do you have for me?"
She blinked, scrambling for composure. "Um… sir, the people are complaining. They've already paid for the next episodes of 'The Will in a Mystery Box,' but they haven't been released yet."
Star chuckled, arrogance dripping from him.
"Well, tell them it's not ready yet."
That was typical Star, arrogant but playful, a man often misread by others because of how casually he dismissed the world.
At only twenty-four, he was the manager of a multimillion-dollar anime company, a company he had built from scratch with five friends back in the day.
Now he is a Rich, notorious for his playboy antics, and admired for his physique (especially those abs Isabel couldn't help stealing glances at now), he was every inch larger than life.
And above all, he is the mastermind behind the global sensation: The Will in a Mystery Box: A Ravaging System Dynasty. The anime that made the world laugh, cry, and curse at cliffhangers.
Isabel trailed behind him as he buttoned his shirt, draped an expensive black suit over his shoulders, and headed toward his desk.
"Sir, they're saying they're going to sue you if the series doesn't continue," she pressed, clutching her file like a lifeline.
Star slumped into his chair, eyes unreadable. He glanced at Isabel and Kelvin, then smirked. The way the two stood, and the way they had thrown glances at each other when they had entered his inner office earlier, made him speak
"Are you two dating? Or… fucking?" he asked, his voice calm, playful, but edged with danger.
The silver-haired girl sniggered from the corner.
Isabel stammered, "N-no!" refusing to even glance at Kelvin.
"Hell no," Kelvin barked quickly.
Star smacked his lips, clearly amused. Then, as if the lawsuit was nothing but a mosquito in his ear, he muttered,
"Sue me? I'd like to see them try."
He stood again and walked to the massive glass window that stretched floor to ceiling. Below, the city glittered with life. Cars moved like ants, billboards blazed with neon light, and helicopters buzzed above the skyline like restless dragonflies, blades rattling the glass.
He narrowed his eyes as one chopper drifted past. "What's with all the helicopters? I've seen a dozen already. Or are they here to sue me too?"
Kelvin shook his head. "No, sir. There's a robbery downtown. Police are on the chase."
Star turned back to the view, a wicked grin pulling at his lips. "Good."
A sly grin spread across his face as an idea lit up. Then, with chilling casualness, he spoke:
"Isabel, I want you to delete the last episode, the one about Steve Morris' findings. And delete him too."
Her jaw dropped. The words barely made it through her ears.
"Sir… that episode is the one with the highest suspense. It's the best-selling one!"
Star didn't turn. His hands clasped behind his back, his eyes locked on the glowing cityscape, as though the world belonged to him alone.
Isabel tried again, desperate. "Deleting that would need another round of board meetings with editors, producers... "
But Star spun, cutting her off with a grin that could melt stone.
"Whose movie is it?" His voice had gone cold, unreadable. The kind of tone that made people fear for their jobs.
Her shoulders sank, as she exhaled. She already knew the script, and where he was headed to with that question.
"Yours," she whispered.
"And whose glorious company is this?"
"Yours, sir."
"Good," he said simply, the maniacal smirk never leaving his face. "I'm rich. So do as I say. Now… if that's all, you're excused."
Defeated, Isabel and Kelvin left, the glass door sliding shut behind them.
Inside, Star exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His smirk faltered, his thoughts whispering doubt. 'Did I do the right thing?' He pressed a palm to his desk, steadying himself. 'Star… you always do the right thing.'
He tried to believe it. But his chest felt heavy. He exhaled again....
Ghuuuuuuuh.
Then a movement caught his eye.
Something was spinning toward his window. Its shadow looming.
He leaned closer. His eyes widened.
A helicopter. Smoke trailing from its tail. Spiraling, and spinning, the blades beating with a heart skipping sound, it was out of control... coming straight toward him.
"What the..." He was about to yell but... was too late....
Glass shattered. The world went white with noise.
Then darkness.