The office was loud again that morning. Phones rang, printers whirred, and the clatter of keyboards filled the air. The air-conditioning hummed above, but somehow it couldn't cool the nervous heat that always hung in the cubicle maze.
Meyu sat at her small corner desk near the end of the hall, her legs folded under her chair as if she were lounging in a café, nibbling the edge of a biscuit she'd smuggled from home.
"Kael, stop eating. We're not at home," her superior snapped as he passed by, voice sharp enough to cut through the din.
Meyu froze with the biscuit halfway to her lips. "It's already half," she mumbled defensively, then slid it back into the wrapper and gave him her most innocent smile.
Her tasks were never glamorous-filing, typing strings of numbers she didn't understand, sorting papers by rules she always seemed to bend. And yet, somehow, she survived. Not always correctly. Not always the way her superiors expected. But still, she got things done.
Like last week, when she'd been told to arrange invoices by "priority." Instead of following the official ranking system, she had lined them up by which papers looked older and more crumpled.
"Oldest first," she had reasoned. "They've been waiting the longest."
Her superior had nearly collapsed.
"Kael! This isn't a waiting line at the bakery!"
Meyu had only shrugged and muttered, "But it works. Everyone gets their turn, no?"
Despite the scoldings, her "let it be" spirit never wavered.
---
That morning, while she halfheartedly tapped her pen on yet another report, her mind drifted. She remembered the man she'd run into days before-the one who'd looked like an ordinary businessman but carried the air of someone used to winning every battle.
He had been sharp-eyed, controlled, his words slicing like a blade. And yet-Meyu remembered a flicker. Something softer beneath the frost. A shadow of weariness he hadn't shown anyone else.
"He was really handsome," she whispered under her breath, twirling the pen. "Rare to see that kind of face. Maybe a model who failed at business?"
The intern beside her gave her a strange look, and Meyu quickly ducked her head back to the papers.
---
By noon, the air in the office changed. The usual buzz fell into whispers. Phones stopped mid-ring. Even the printers seemed to hush. The atmosphere tightened, like the whole floor was holding its breath.
"Did you hear?" someone whispered in the pantry.
"They actually lost."
Meyu perked up, biting into the last of her biscuit. "Lost what?"
Her seatmate clutched her folders like armor, eyes wide. "The deal. Feyu Orin's deal. They said it collapsed. For the first time."
Meyu tilted her head, crumbs on her lips. "Oh... okay." She chewed slowly, then added, "Things like that happen. Even the best can trip sometimes."
The others stared at her as if she had spoken blasphemy. Around her, panic spread like wildfire-rumors of rivals circling, of Orin Corporation's flawless streak shattering. People spoke in frantic tones, imagining collapse.
But Meyu only dusted the crumbs off her fingers and hummed under her breath. The hysteria slid past her like wind. She didn't know that her calm, dismissive words echoed faintly with something once familiar to a boy she had known long ago.
---
Far above, on the top floor of Orin Tower, Feyu Orin stood in silence before the vast glass windows. The city stretched endlessly, glittering under the midday sun. His reflection stared back at him, cold, untouchable.
Behind him, his assistant shifted nervously. "Sir, the media is calling it your first defeat. Should we prepare a statement?"
"No."
Feyu's voice was even, almost lazy.
It wasn't a defeat. Not to him. That deal had been poison-a net woven with hidden debts and rival claws waiting to sink. By conceding, he had pulled the weeds into the light. Names of traitors already slid onto his desk. Rivals too eager to celebrate revealed themselves.
He slipped his hands into his pockets, his face unreadable. "Sometimes," he murmured, his reflection swallowing the city, "a calculated loss is more valuable than a hollow victory."
The words carried no pride, no regret-only fact.
---
But later, when the office emptied and night pressed against the windows, Feyu leaned back in his chair. A memory slid, uninvited, into the quiet-an unfamiliar girl's voice, teasing and unafraid.
Why are you staring at me... did I accidentally cast a love spell on you?
His gaze flicked to the monitor on his desk. "Check the CCTV from Building B," he ordered coolly.
The assistant hesitated. "From which time frame, sir?"
Feyu's eyes narrowed, sharp with something unspoken. "The moment she entered the finance floor. Find her."
The assistant bowed, already hurrying out.
Alone again, Feyu sat back, fingers tapping once against the glass desk. He did not name her. He did not let her image surface. Yet in the silence, his reflection in the blackened window seemed less like a fortress-and more like a man whose heart had stirred against his will.