Fairytales said Cinderella found her prince at the ball. Amara found hers on the executive floor while holding a mop.
"Argh, my back!" With a soft moan, she stretched her aching back while bending over and wringing the mop until her wrist felt like it might snap at any moment.
It was already 11:07 p.m.
Just fantastic. For others, it's already past their bedtime. Sadly, not for her.
This wasn't exactly her dream or ideal job she'd thought she'd do as a kid. She looked at her reflection in the shiny window glass. No, not ugly at all… just worn out. Tired eyes, messy ponytail, sweat from the forehead through the neck. And after sniffing a little, there was a faint detergent on her sleeve.
So beautiful. This must be the picture of success.
Looking back, her life had never been much like those fairy tales anyway.
She grew up in an orphanage. Never knew her parents or whoever was responsible for throwing her near the orphanage dumpster. She then bounced around from one foster home to another. Graduated high school purely by sheer luck. Never had enough money or stability.
Her résumé was also not that impressive. Cashier, delivery driver, kitchen helper. And now? Cleaning staff at one of the most prestigious tech companies in the world, they said.
She swiped the mop across the floors and sighed. "This is better than no job at all, Hayes. An upgrade. Such an upgrade."
That was right. At least here there were no rude customers or unpleasant coworkers. Not to mention that she took the night shift. Her only worries probably were just spirits that might haunt this place but hey, her experience said that people were more terrifying.
Yeah. She needed to keep her head up because who knew what future had in store for her. Her life might change one day.
She dragged her mop near the CEO's office. The nameplate on the door gleamed with the name on it: Darien Dravik.
Oh, the man behind Ispire Incorporation. The genius who built this whole empire from zero. Everyone in Vanguard City knew about him. Hell, maybe even the world. Amara'd only seen him a few times during her three months here so far. He was tall, sharp jawline, black hair, and had that expensive kind of handsome that screamed "magazine cover". In short, he was cute. He always walked like the world bowed to let him pass. Which, she supposed, it kinda did.
"Darien Dravik," she murmured. "Rich, smart, and probably allergic to people like me."
She chuckled quietly at her own joke and pushed the mop forward…
THUD
Amara stopped in the middle of her swipe.
There was a heavy, sharp, deep sound coming from inside the office. Her brows furrowed.
This floor belonged to one and only Darien Dravik and his secretary who supposedly already went home hours ago like others.
The room's lights were off. He shouldn't still be here. Maybe it was security? But what if there was someone breaking in?
Ok, that was ridiculous. Like the security could be breached that easy, but who knew, right?
"Please tell me that's not a burglar," she whispered. "Because I swear, if I get murdered on minimum wage, I'm haunting whoever does payroll."
She bit her bottom lip, glancing around the emptiness around her.
"Okay, it's fine, Mara," she whispered to herself. "Let's just do some little peeking and get out of here."
She knocked lightly with another hand gripping the mop handle a little tighter. "Excuse me, Mr. Dravik? Are you in there?"
No answer.
She knocked again, louder this time. "Hello, Sir?"
Still nothing.
Fine, ok. Her brain said, "Walk away!" "Ask the security!" "Don't open the damn door. Your one and only job is making this place clean, nothing else!"
However, her curiosity, no, her stupidity, had a louder voice and dominance.
So, she slowly pushed it open, the hinge making a sound exactly like those horror movies. The room was pretty dark, with only the faint glow from the city skyline outside.
"Hello?" she called softly, stepping inside. "Sir, if you're here, please don't freak out. It's just me, the cleaning staff. I might be broke, but I know better than anyone not to steal anything."
She tightened her grip on the mop and flicked on the light switch.
And there he was.
Darien Dravik. Her boss. Slumped in his chair with one hand clutching his chest, his face pale, as if all the blood had been drained out of him.
"Holy crap! Sir…?!" Amara rushed forward before her brain could catch up and throw away the mop.
He flinched and raised his hand, a sign telling her not allowing her to come near him. "Don't come… any closer."
But Amara ignored it. "Sure. I'll just stand here like a fool when my boss dies in front of me."
"I said stay away!"
He groaned, sliding from the chair, collapsing onto his knees. She barely managed to catch him by the shoulders.
"Sir, please!"
He was trembling badly. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as his breathing came ragged and shallow.
"Sir, stay with me! Breathe, okay? Oh, geez…"
Amara attempted to lift him up but the moment she reached for his shoulder, a tingling jolt spread through her fingertips, like electrocuting but in a good and weird way. "What the hell…"
He tried to push her away, but his strength gave out and he fell down to the floor. "Wait… oh, crap!"
She tried to catch him, but her foot caught the mop handle she'd dropped earlier, and gravity did the rest.
She fell down hard, straight on top of him.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the worst part.
Her lips were kinda on his.
For a second, her brain froze and refused to comprehend what had just happened. She felt his warm breath, the faint taste of iron and smoke, and then something else. A pulse of energy that surged through her veins, wild and electric.
Oh, shit. Oh no.
She scrambled up so fast she nearly fell on top of him again. "I didn't! That wasn't… I mean, I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry, Sir!"
Her heart was hammering wildly in there. She really didn't mean to kiss her boss. Oh, she would worry about that later. Now she needed to help…
…wait a second.
She looked at him like, really really looking at him. Aside from being such a hot cutie, he looked fine now. Not just fine, but he looked different.
The pain was gone from his face, replaced by something sharp, focused, and…
And then it happened.
A faint cracking sound, like stone splitting. She stared with her mouth open and wide eyes as something grew from his temples.
A horn. A freaking horn!
There were more, of course.
His shirt tore apart, shredded into pieces by scales that rippled down his chest and arms. Followed by his hand that turned into claws, black and razor-sharp.
Behind him, a pair of massive black wings spread wide enough to brush the office walls.
Amara stumbled back until her back hit the edge of the table. Now it was her turn to struggle to breathe properly.
Darien turned his gaze on her with those golden eyes that seemed ready to burn her at any moment.
Amara stared back.
No, this wasn't real. This was just stress, lack of sleep, maybe poisoning from too much bleach.
Her fingers shook as she pointed at him. "You're… Oh, God! You…"
He just stared, his eyes fixed on her like she was the only one who could catch his attention.
She couldn't take this anymore, and as the world tilted, making things dark pretty fast for her, but not before she could catch him saying something.
"So, it's you."