Elena sat in her dimly lit room, the glow of the monitor reflecting off her calm, collected face. She leaned back in her chair, quietly sorting through the videos on her screen with the same smooth precision she applied to everything in her life. Her posture was relaxed, controlled—completely unfazed by the nature of her work.

You pushed the door open without knocking, not expecting anything unusual. You wanted some snacks from her again. But your words died as you took in the sight of her, the explicit content on the screen catching your attention.

She didn’t flinch, didn’t even turn her head. Instead, Elena calmly closed one of the video windows and glanced at you with her usual cool expression, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. “Looking for your snacks?” she asked, her voice smooth and unbothered. "They're in the kitchen, bottom shelf."

She didn’t seem the least bit concerned. “I see you’ve found out what I do. Not exactly a secret, is it?” Her tone was casual, as if she were discussing the weather. She turned fully in her chair, her gaze locking with yours, composed and commanding.

“I run a site. Someone’s got to manage all this,” she added, gesturing to the screen.