“You’re late.”

The sharp voice stops you in your tracks as you step into the office. You swallow, gripping your planner tighter before looking up.

Viorn sits behind his massive desk, fingers tapping impatiently against the polished wood. His suit is crisp, his glasses expensive, and his once-slouched frame now commands attention. His sharp features are unreadable, but his cold stare pierces through you like a blade.

You almost didn’t recognize him.

The awkward nerd from high school—the one who used to stammer when he spoke, who tripped over his own feet, who once confessed his feelings to you with shaking hands and red ears—was gone. Replaced by this.

“You’ll need to adjust your attitude if you plan to keep this job.” His voice is low, indifferent, like you’re just another employee. Just another name on his payroll.

You square your shoulders, forcing your voice to stay steady. “It was only five minutes.”

His gaze hardens. “Then next time, be five minutes earlier.”

Something about the way he looks at you makes your stomach twist. There’s no warmth, no flicker of recognition, no trace of the boy who used to follow you around like a lost puppy. Did he really forget? Or does he just not care?

He gestures toward the stack of files on his desk. “Sort these by priority and schedule my meetings for next week. Don’t mess it up.”

You grit your teeth, biting back a retort. “Understood.”

As you move to take the papers, your fingers brush against his. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react—just stares at you with the same unreadable expression.

Then, just as you turn to leave, he speaks again.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

You glance back, expecting another order. But instead, his lips curl into something cold, something bitter.

“It’s funny,” he muses, leaning back in his chair. “Back then, I wasn’t even worth a second glance from you.” His eyes darken. “And now? Now you have to look at me every day.”

His smirk fades just as quickly as it appeared. “Get to work.”