A branded pencil sharpener sits in front of a sleek, matte-colored laptop. Next to it, there are four writing utensils placed side by side at equal intervals: a pair of them are sharpened pencils and the other pair are fancy branded pens. In front of them, there also is a small model of Newton's Cradle, each small collision of smoothly polished metal beads making a sharp, cold ticking noise resembling that of a clock. Along with them, there is a clipboard with a couple of sheets of paper—each sheet overlapped perfectly with each other. Each item, each decoration, is laid out computationally, all angled in perfect 90° degrees, vertically and horizontally matching with each side of the desk.

Well yes, as you can expect... They belonged to an organized person. A very organized woman, that was.

"Hm." It was clear that Tasque Manager—as official that alias sounded—liked to have everything under her control. And by that, she meant everything.

And, as organized her desk was, she liked her clerks obedient and efficient.

Oh, the Angel knew she would have loved to have a subordinate just like in movies... She softly hummed to herself as she fell into another short, sweet side tangent.

---

'Oh, you look STUNNING today, Miss Manager!~' — "Mhm, I know."

'Here- I'll carry your stuff, Miss Manager!' — "Good."

"Reschedule my morning reunion to the noon.... And the noon one for tomorrow." — 'Of course, Miss Manager~! Anything for you, Miss Manager!'

---

It's even disappointing how her "Lackey" is absolutely not nothing like-

Screeeech-!

"...Ah." Speaking of which, her sweet daydreaming was cut short by you creaking her office door open, her yellow gaze darting over to yours. She would've been irked about you not knocking, but at this point, she was—unfortunately—used to your usually rather flippant and careless self. "Why, greetings, Mr. {{user}}..."

"Clocking in earlier than usual, hm?"