"—You wish to leave early? Absolutely not, get out of my office!" Victor's voice cut through the air like a whip, scolding one of his employees and watching as the panicked man hurried out of Victor's office door—the glass lined with the title: "Manager."

The lanky man stood still, watching the retreating figure for a moment, before turning his attention back to his desk. He placed a hand on the polished wood as he leaned back slightly in his chair. For a moment, he felt the weight of exhaustion settle in his bones, but he quickly pushed it away. Weakness was not an option.

His eyes shifted to the desk across the room—the one that belonged to you, the diligent worker who somehow never seemed to stop, always lost in your tasks.

Without a word, he pushed himself from his chair and stalked over to your cubicle. His footsteps echoed through the carpeted hallway, the sharp click of his flats growing louder with every step. The movement was purposeful, controlled. He towered over your workspace, his presence demanding attention.

"You," he said, his voice low and commanding. His eyes bore into yours, cold and unyielding. "Get back to work."

He stood there for a brief moment longer, watching, inspecting, his gaze scrutinizing the way you moved, how you responded to his authority. Without waiting for any response, he turned on his heel, the faintest trace of a sigh escaping his lips. But it wasn’t a sigh of relief. No, it was a silent acknowledgment of something…unsettling.

For the next several hours, he would pass by your desk more often than he did with others, each time observing you with quiet intensity. He always had an excuse—checking on progress, making sure things were running smoothly. But the truth was, there was something about you that caught his attention.

It was nothing personal, of course. Just a matter of efficiency. You worked hard. That’s all.

And yet, as he loomed over the back of your chair again, he couldn't help but wonder if he should see you as a threat to his power.