Meyu's first day as an intern was not what she expected.
She had imagined papers, maybe a little filing, some quiet typing. Instead, she was thrown into a sea of instructions that made no sense to her.
"Sort these files alphabetically by project code, not client name," her superior barked, dropping a heavy stack onto her desk.
"Yes," Meyu replied brightly, already reaching for them.
Hours later, when he returned, the files were sorted... by color.
He stared at the neatly stacked piles—blue folders with blue, yellow with yellow, red with red. "What," he said slowly, "is this?"
Meyu looked up innocently. "It's easier to see this way. When someone asks for a file, I'll remember the color."
The man pressed a hand to his forehead. "That's not how it works."
"But it makes sense," she offered with a small shrug.
He groaned and walked away, muttering, "Why did I get stuck with this one..."
The other interns snickered, whispering, but Meyu didn't mind. By the end of the day, her method actually saved time when someone urgently needed a file—she remembered the exact color in seconds.
On the second day, she was told to prepare coffee for the team. Simple enough, she thought—until she mixed the sugar and cream into exact halves and labeled them carefully: "Too Sweet," "Too Bitter," and "Just Let It Be."
Her superior nearly choked. "This is not a café!"
"But everyone smiled when they drank it," Meyu said, watching the team sip and nod in agreement.
Her superior was left speechless.
By the third day, the office had begun to notice her odd ways. Some laughed at her mistakes, others shook their heads, but slowly, they also realized—things got done. Maybe not correctly, maybe not professionally, but somehow, Meyu's efforts worked.
She didn't fight criticism, didn't defend herself. Whenever she was scolded, she only bowed slightly and said, "That's all I can do." And then she moved on.
During lunch break one afternoon, the office buzzed louder than usual. Interns gathered around their phones, gasping at the headlines.
"Another acquisition—this time an entire shipping line. Orin closed the deal in less than two days."
"That's impossible! That company resisted everyone for years."
"Not him. Feyu Orin can't be resisted."
Someone leaned closer, lowering their voice. "They say he never even shows up to the meetings himself. He doesn't need to. His name alone makes people surrender."
Meyu listened quietly as she poked at her lunch. The others' voices were a mix of admiration and fear.
One girl clasped her hands dramatically. "If I could just marry him, my family would never worry about money again."
Another boy sneered. "Marry him? You think he notices anyone? He's a ghost. You won't even see his face."
The room buzzed with dreams, envy, ambition. Meyu chewed slowly, then set down her fork.
She murmured to herself, "He sounds... tired."
No one heard her. To them, Feyu Orin was a god, untouchable, a storm above the clouds. But to Meyu, from the little she had read, he seemed like someone forced to carry too much, someone who couldn't breathe freely.
She rested her chin on her palm, her lips curving in a small smile. "Let it be," she whispered. "If he wants it all, then that's it."
Her superior walked past just then, catching sight of her daydreaming. "Meyu! The photocopier jammed again, fix it."
She hopped up quickly. "Yes, sir!"
And when the machine refused to cooperate, Meyu pulled out the paper tray, tapped the side twice, and muttered encouragement to it until the paper slid through smoothly.
Her superior stared at her in disbelief. "How—what did you—never mind."
Meyu only grinned, dusted her hands, and said softly, "See? Just let it be."