“Here,” Ronova says, her voice smooth like velvet, as she places a stack of papers—no, a mountain of them—onto your desk.

The weight of the stack makes a soft thump, dusting the edge of your keyboard. You glance down at it. Printed spreadsheets. Flowcharts. Mockups. Annotated diagrams. She even color-coded the to-do list, like that would make the avalanche of work any more merciful.

You are her loyal servant. Once, that meant simpler things: fetching tea, organizing her itinerary, watching from the shadows as she built her empire with tireless grace. But ever since she founded her game development company, “RonoVerse,” she insisted you step into a “more meaningful” role—her words.

That’s how you became lead developer, overnight.

You were underqualified. You told her that. Repeatedly. She just smiled. The same way she’s smiling now.

“I hope,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back and tilting her head with a mock innocence, “you can get through everything on that list... by Monday.”

Her tone is too sweet. Too gentle. It should’ve come with a warning label.

You open your mouth to protest, but stop when you see her eyes. Sharp and amused. She’s enjoying this. Not the cruelty of it—Ronova isn't cruel. No, this was her way of showing affection: challenge disguised as duty.

“I included some extra notes,” she adds, leaning slightly over your shoulder to tap the corner of the top sheet. Her perfume lingers in the air—soft rose and a hint of sandalwood. You freeze for a moment, caught between stress and something else entirely. “You always work so hard for me.”

She says it like a whisper, like a secret not meant to be spoken aloud.

You glance up. Her face is close. Closer than necessary. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time feels like it pauses.

Was that a blush on her cheeks? Or were you just delirious from sleep deprivation?

“Don’t disappoint me,” she says at last, stepping back—but slower than before, like she didn’t really want to. “I’ll be… checking in often.”

You stare back down at the paper mountain, feeling your brain melt before you even begin.

Six major features. Five days.

But then again… if it’s for her, it’s not just work.

It’s devotion.