The stack of documents hit the desk with a thunderous thud, pages scattering across the polished wood like confetti from hell.
I froze, hands clenched on my lap. Not because I cared about the papers… Why would I? But because the man behind the desk was looking at me like I'd just crawled out of a gutter and onto his carpet.
"Tell me," Lucian Drake drawled, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "What the hell phoenix is in my room?!"
I blinked. 'Wait. What?'
Phoenix?
I almost laughed, except he didn't look like the kind of guy who tolerated laughter. Or breathing, for that matter.
Beside me, Sebastian, the human-shaped statue who passed for his head secretary, remained perfectly calm, as if flying papers and personal insults were just another Monday.
Meanwhile, my heart was doing cardio. 'Phoenix? What phoenix? Was this some kind of code word? Corporate lingo? A pet name for employees they hated? Or was I secretly on some bullet-camera prank show for delusional dreamers?'
Because I sure as hell wasn't a bird.
Lucian Drake's gaze sharpened, icy and merciless.
"Phoenix," he spat the word like an insult, not a title. "Glorified healers pretending they're essential. Birds who burn themselves out patching wounds just to feel useful. Nothing worth admiring. Nothing worth keeping."
His lips curved into a blade-thin smile as he flicked a hand at the mess of papers.
"And you?" His gaze cut through me like frostbite. "I don't remember ordering any emergency aid. What are you doing here… trying to melt me with your tears? Hah." His eyes flicked over my face. "And those ugly glasses… take her out of my sight. Report everything later!"
Even though half of what he said made zero sense, something inside me hurt. A sharp, alien ache bloomed in my chest the moment he mentioned 'tears'. It didn't feel like mine, and yet it burned as if it was.
But none of that mattered.
Because all I could think at that moment was, 'How the hell did I end up here?'
=====
A few hours ago, I wasn't a "phoenix."
I was just Seraphina Vale, struggling writer, professional procrastinator, and part-time ramen enthusiast.
"I swear, I'm done," I groaned into my laptop camera, glaring at my best friend on the screen. "I can't make a single cent from writing. Nothing. Zero. Nada."
Vivian, who was living her best life overseas, munched on chips with all the sympathy of a rock. "Then stop writing that stupid multimillionaire romance."
I sat up straight. "Excuse me? It's not stupid… It's called manifesting! Dating a billionaire is my dream. Until the universe delivers, I'm keeping the genre alive."
"Yeah, well, your dream doesn't pay rent." She smirked. "Try apocalypse. Or…" she leaned closer, eyes glinting, "werewolves. Angsty, shirtless werewolves. Instant cash."
I gagged. "Over my dead body."
Vivian cackled. "Suit yourself. But when you're broke and crying again next week, don't say I didn't warn you."
I dropped my chin on the desk. "You know what you could do? Send money. Rent's scarier than zombies and werewolves combined."
She popped open a can of cola like a queen. "Dream on. But… I did send you something. A souvenir. Should be arriving today."
My cheek hit the table. "Vivian, do you think I can eat a keychain? Pay rent with a fridge magnet?"
"Maybe it's more useful than you think."
As if on cue, my doorbell rang.
I narrowed my eyes at her smug face on-screen. "No way. Don't tell me that's your souvenir."
"Go on," she said, grinning. "Take it."
So I did. I rushed back with a small cardboard box and plopped it in front of my laptop like it was treasure. Tearing the tape open, I dug through crumpled wrapping until my fingers closed around a tiny glass bottle.
I held it up to the camera. Inside shimmered a faint golden liquid that caught the light, glowing almost unnaturally.
My brows shot up. "Vivian. What the hell is this?"
"Cute, right?" She grinned. "Found it at a night market. The seller swore it was phoenix tears."
I snorted. "Phoenix tears? Are you trying to scam me long-distance now?"
"Please. Of course I didn't believe it. But you love weird little keychains. It was unique."
"Unique, sure. Also useless. You could've sent twenty bucks instead."
"Where's the fun in that?"
I sighed dramatically, holding up the bottle. "A magical bottle of tears. Perfect. Maybe it'll help me with something…tchhh…" Obviously sarcasm.
Vivian lowered her voice like she was about to reveal an urban legend. "The seller said phoenix tears are powerful. If you use them properly, they can grant a wish. But…" she smirked, "only if the phoenix chooses you."
I stared. "Vivian. You bought a scam in a bottle."
She shrugged. "Hey, maybe you'll get your billionaire boyfriend after all."
I rolled my eyes. "Right. And maybe I'll sprout wings and start paying rent in feathers."
But after all the words and sarcasm I spurted that night, when the apartment fell silent, I found myself staring at the bottle again. The golden liquid shimmered faintly in the dark, almost like it was… breathing.
My chest tightened, "What is this?"
Still, I picked it up, cradling it between my palms.
"Fine," I whispered. "Let's do this, I will never lose anything…" I gulped before continuing, "Dear almighty phoenix tears… Please make me the heroine of my own story. Preferably with a rich, ridiculously handsome man who falls madly in love with me..."
I opened one eye. Nothing. "Of course! Stupid Seraphina," I cursed myself for being dumbed.
Groaning in annoyance, I set the bottle down. "Figures. Can't even get scammed properly."
And yet… when I woke up the next morning, it wasn't to the sight of my messy apartment.
It was to a desk buried under documents, a man's voice colder than ice and a pair of glacial eyes boring straight through me.
"Sebastian!" the white-haired man barked, slamming a hand on the desk. "Why is there a homeless woman sleeping in my office? What is security even doing?!"
I gaped.
Because apparently… that homeless woman was me.