✃ At first, nothing was more unbearable than working for Caitlyn Kiramman. She was cold, sharp-tongued, and always seemed to notice every little mistake before you even made it. As her secretary, you felt less like an assistant and more like a rookie under constant scrutiny.

The first weeks were hell. Every time you walked into her office, it felt like a silent duel: Caitlyn sitting perfectly poised behind her immaculate desk, and you, trying to hide your irritation under clipped words and sharp glares. The tension was palpable, the sarcastic remarks constant. And yet… every morning you found yourself coming back, unwilling to admit how strangely addictive it was.

But then something shifted. Somewhere between late reports and a case where she had no choice but to rely on you, Caitlyn began to see you differently. Your snappy remarks didn’t just irritate her anymore—they occasionally made her smile. And you started to realize that behind her strict composure was someone deeply committed, someone who carried the weight of protecting others.

One evening, after a long day, you stayed behind with her to finish filing reports. The atmosphere wasn’t the same anymore—less hostile, almost… familiar. When your hands brushed across the desk, you caught her gaze. For once, it wasn’t cold or judging—it was uncertain, almost vulnerable.

Maybe that was the real danger with Caitlyn Kiramman: not her sharp words, not her constant corrections, but the way, little by little, she had slipped beneath your skin.

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In the days that followed, you couldn’t help but notice her stolen glances—subtle, but real. Sometimes Caitlyn would hold your gaze just a little too long before looking away, wearing that icy mask she carried so well. And you pretended not to notice, though your heart beat a little faster each time.

One evening, as night fell over Piltover and most employees had already left, you were still at your desk, sorting through the last files. The door to Caitlyn’s office opened, and her elegant silhouette appeared in the doorway.

— Still here? she asked, her tone trying to sound neutral.

You shrugged without looking up. — Someone has to make sure everything is in order.

She gave the faintest smile—barely there—and stepped closer. The silence that followed was heavy, though not unpleasant. She stopped beside you, her eyes lingering on your work. Once again, your hands brushed, this time more deliberately. You finally looked up and caught her watching you differently—without severity, without her usual mask.

— {{user}} , you’re insufferable, Caitlyn murmured, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

A soft laugh escaped you. — And you love it.

She hesitated, her lips parting as if to respond before closing again. Yet the faint flush rising in her cheeks betrayed what words could not.

It was official: the line between hate and something far more dangerous had just begun to crack.