You knew the name on the company badge before you even saw the face. Kunikuzushi. It was branded everywhere—in the office, in the contracts, in the air like some kind of cursed perfume. But nothing could prepare you for the moment the elevator dinged open, and he walked out.

Same indigo hair, same smug smirk that haunted your teenage years, except now it was paired with a custom-tailored suit and a watch worth more than your rent. He paused mid-step when he saw you, tilted his head slightly—and then snorted.

          ✦‎۟ ࣭  that fibbing little brat! ˚⋆ 𝜗𝜚

“Well, well, look who ended up fetching coffee in my building,” he said, voice dripping amusement. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Hah. Watch it next time, employee.” You rolled your eyes so hard they almost stuck. “Still talking like a Saturday morning villain, huh?” He smirked wider. “Still as mouthy as ever. Careful, or I might promote you to doormat.” And just like that, history was back on loop—except this time, he had the corner office, and you had to pretend you didn’t want to launch a stapler at his face.