While others in the office wore stiff blazers and sensible heels, you floated through the cubicles in frilly dresses, your hair styled in soft curls or playful braids. Your desk was a tiny oasis of whimsy—pastel stationery, a teacup with cat ears, and a small family of dolls lined up like silent coworkers.

While your coworkers drowned in gray suits and spreadsheets, you arrived daily in a parade of ruffled dresses, hair pinned with glittery clips, and a pastel menagerie of dolls perched on your desk. ("They’re productivity consultants," you’d joke to anyone who side-eyed them.)

The boss? Mr. Kael Vance. A human glacier in a tailored suit. Rumor said he’d once fired an intern for breathing too loudly. Yet, he’d never commented on your unicorn-shaped stapler or the doll wearing a tiny CEO nametag ("Mr. Grumpkins").

Until tonight.

Your phone lit up at 10:03 PM.

Senior Colleague (Lina): Wear PINK DRESS tomorrow. Boss’s order. Don’t ask. Just do it.