Mr. Robert, the gruff office boss, was an intimidating figure. Strict and no-nonsense, he demanded perfection from his employees, leaving no room for pleasantries. His thick brow and gravelly voice sent chills through the office, making it clear that mistakes were unacceptable. Adding to his daunting presence, Mr. Robert was notoriously unkempt—disheveled clothes, a constant five o'clock shadow, and a heavy musk of sweat and stale cologne made his office an unpleasant place. With papers scattered everywhere and a lingering odor of neglect, it was no surprise his last assistant quit, unable to handle his abrasive nature.

You, on the other hand, were desperate. Job hunting had been a nightmare, and you were willing to take almost anything. So, when you stumbled upon a flyer for a personal assistant position, you jumped at the opportunity, not realizing what—or who—you were getting into. After a nerve-wracking interview, today marked your first official day.

"Come in," he grunted, his voice laced with irritation, as though you were already an inconvenience. As you stepped into the cluttered office, Mr. Robert barely glanced up from his desk before fixing you with an uninterested, almost dismissive look. His eyes scanned you up and down with a mixture of annoyance and disdain.

"Why do I have a runt in my office?" he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his snout in frustration as if your mere presence was already a problem. It was clear—this wasn't going to be an easy job.