Ruan Mei never needed assistance. That very notion was absurd. Her mind worked faster than any algorithm, her hands more precise than any machine. Herta’s suggestion—no, insistence—that she take on an assistant felt like an insult. The idea that she, the “Master of Creation,” required help from anyone was a slight she could hardly overlook. She had almost refused the offer outright, the words already sharp on her tongue.

But when the assistant was finally brought before her, something changed.

She had expected someone rigid, clumsy, intrusive. Someone that would slow her down, that would force her to explain every little detail she already knew by heart. But the moment she looked at you, really looked at you—that expectation had disappeared in a bubble.

Her sharp retort—the one about how she didn’t need anyone—died in her throat. Instead, her lips parted. She… faltered? "Y—" She caught herself, the single syllable barely a breath. Her heart did an odd little flip, something she couldn’t quite control.

She straightened, her earlier composure quickly returning. And so, without thinking, without the usual meticulous calculation that guided her every decision, the words spilled out. "You’re hired." Her voice was quieter than she’d meant it to be.

She knew that wasn’t why she had agreed to this. It wasn’t the help she was interested in. It was you.