POV: Aurora
The contract didn't smell like paper.
It smelled like disinfectant, fresh ink... and something else. A metallic, almost electric trace that made no sense in a Human Resources room on the twenty-eighth floor of Noir Tower.
"Sign here, Aurora," said Sofia, pushing the document toward me. "And here. And... here. I swear, we're not selling your soul. Just an obscene percentage of your time."
I tried to smile. The pen felt too heavy between my fingers.
It was my first day at Noir Holdings. Until now, it had only been a name in cold emails. At this moment, sitting in front of the contract, it was starting to look like a new life... or a very elegant trap.
"This is the final version," Sofia added. "It includes enhanced confidentiality for risk analysis and the medical section. Nothing out of the ordinary for your area."
Medical section.
My eyes scanned the text. Small print, endless paragraphs. One line stood out from the rest as if it had been underlined in blood:
"The contracting party agrees to undergo periodic medical examinations, including hormonal evaluations, and to immediately report any significant changes in their cycle, physical or emotional state..."
I frowned.
"Hormonal evaluations?" I asked. "I thought they were just general checkups."
Sofia shrugged.
"In your field, they work with sensitive information," she explained. "Stress, insomnia, anxiety attacks... all of that can distort your test results. It's a fancy way of saying, 'If you're about to explode, we want to know.'"
It made sense. Sort of. But something about that sentence bothered me. It didn't say "menstrual cycle." It just said "cycle," as if they assumed my body followed rules that no one had explained to me.
A strange heat began to rise from the back of my neck. I loosened the scarf I wore to protect myself from the rain in Nova Lyra.
"Aurora," Sofia said, looking at me intently. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," I replied too quickly. "It's just... hot."
I was lying. The air conditioning was freezing. My skin, on the other hand, was burning.
"Anxiety," I thought. "New job, huge building, contract with tiny print. Normal."
I took a deep breath and continued reading. Enhanced confidentiality. Prohibition on discussing projects. On using data for personal gain. On almost everything that could save me if this went wrong.
At the end of the document, a blank space:
Employee signature: Aurora Vega.
My name there seemed foreign. Final.
The strange smell returned.
It wasn't coming from the paper.
The door to the room opened without anyone knocking. The air moved, bringing a dark perfume, like warm amber mixed with storm.
I didn't have to turn my head to know who it was.
"Mr. Noir," said Sofia, standing up. "We weren't expecting you for the signing."
Neither was I. But my body was. It recognized him before my mind did.
The atmosphere changed. The space seemed to shrink, as if the walls were holding their breath.
I forced myself to look up.
Dark suit, slightly loosened tie, relaxed shoulders, hidden tension in his jaw. His amber eyes scanned the scene: the contract, my hand, my face.
He was younger than I had imagined for someone who sounded so untouchable in emails. Younger... and much more dangerous.
"I came to see something," he said, his calm voice filling the room. "Are there any problems with the document?"
Sofia laughed nervously.
"Nothing serious, sir. Just the fine print scaring off new talent."
She said it lightly, but her fingers clutched the folder to her chest.
Dante Noir approached the table.
He didn't need to come so close. No clause required it. And yet he did. With each step, the scent of amber and storm grew stronger, until it enveloped me.
The heat in the back of my neck spread down my back. I felt my pulse in my throat, in my wrists, in places that shouldn't know who my boss was.
"Is there something you don't understand, Miss Vega?" he asked, without taking his eyes off me.
I wanted to say, "No, everything's fine, I'll sign and go back to my desk." Instead, my gaze returned to the medical section.
"The part about the exams," I managed to say. "And this thing about reporting cycle changes. I'm not sick. I just have anxiety."
As I uttered those words, I felt ridiculously exposed. As if I had just handed him my weak spot.
His eyes dug a little deeper into mine. Not with pity. With interest.
"It's not a clause designed just for you," he said at last. "It's standard for your area."
His tone was neutral, but the feeling was different: as if we were talking about something I didn't even know could change.
I wanted to ask, "What kind of changes are you expecting, exactly?" But the heat rose a degree and the perfume filled my nose, descending to my chest like thick smoke.
Sofia took advantage of the silence.
"If you agree, we'll sign and activate your entry," she said, pushing the document toward me again. "You are officially part of risk analysis as of today. They're waiting for you upstairs."
"They're waiting for you."
I thought about the freezing room I rent. About my mom asking me in a text message if "they pay well in the capital." About my debts. About the scholarship I accepted as soon as I saw the Noir Holdings logo.
I thought about how I didn't have a plan B.
I looked at the blank space.
I picked up the pen.
"I want the job," I said, trying not to let my voice shake.
And I signed.
The ink had barely dried when the smell of amber and storm seemed to intensify. As if the air approved of my decision.
Dante looked down at the contract. His lips curved slightly, in a line that wasn't quite a smile.
"Welcome officially to Noir Holdings, Aurora," he said.
My name on his lips sounded like a promise. Or a threat.
I wasn't sure which scared me more.
While Sofia put away the contract and talked about credentials, my body continued to react as if I hadn't just signed a job.
As if something much deeper had just been decided for me.