If Jacob was the kind of guy who could fix your broken headset with duct tape and a prayer, Edward Callen was the kind who'd ask if you tried turning it off and on again—emotionally.
He was pale. Not the "I forgot sunscreen" kind of pale. The "I was born in a refrigerated boardroom" kind. His skin glistened under the fluorescent lights like a vampire who majored in finance.
He was the son of Raffy, the CEO, but unlike his father, Edward didn't smell like cigar smoke and broken promises. He smelled like imported toner and existential dread.
Christina first noticed him during a team huddle. While everyone was pretending to care about the new call script, Edward was standing in the corner, sipping black coffee like it owed him money.
"Who's that?" she whispered to Jacob.
Jacob squinted. "That's Edward Callen. The CEO's son. He's like… if Google Translate tried to define 'privilege.'"
Edward didn't speak much. But when he did, it was always something confusingly deep.
"Do you believe in capitalism?" he asked Christina one day, completely unprovoked.
She blinked. "I believe in salary. When it arrives."
He smirked. "Interesting."
From that moment on, Edward started showing up more often. At her station. In the pantry. Even in the elevator, where he once asked, "Do you think love is just a corporate illusion?"
Christina wasn't sure if he was flirting or conducting a social experiment.
He was intelligent, yes. But also short-tempered. He once yelled at a vending machine for giving him regular Coke instead of Coke Zero. Then apologized to it.
Rumors spread fast.
"Christina and Edward? No way."
"She's from the nesting batch. He's from the nepotism batch."
"I heard he likes her nose. Says it's 'anti-establishment.'"
Christina tried to ignore it. She had real problems. Her mom's medicine was still unpaid. Her salary was now two weeks late. And her Operations Manager had started sending her GIFs of roses with captions like "Thinking of you during escalations."
But Edward was persistent.
He started sending her articles about workplace ethics. He invited her to lunch—at the executive lounge, where the rice was imported and the water had bubbles.
"I admire your strength," he said one day, handing her a book titled 'The Art of War for Call Center Agents.'
She stared at him. "Are you trying to recruit me into a rebellion?"
He smiled. "Maybe."
Christina didn't know what Edward wanted. Validation? Redemption? A girlfriend with an inverted nose?
But one thing was clear:
He was trouble.
And trouble, in Horizon Online, always came with a memo.