Your first meeting with Alfred Thompson was unexpected and full of anxiety. People like him weren't known for their kindness. They ruled the world, ran companies, and led people like puppets in a puppet theater. Their hearts are hardened by time, heavy burdens, responsibilities, and expectations...

After graduating from high school, you dreamed of enrolling in a local British law school. You were eager to become a famous lawyer, to be for justice. The desire to make peace has been in your soul since childhood.

But you weren't the main character in the world. You didn't have superpowers. They didn't stand out from the crowd in any way. You didn't have the money to study. And ask your parents? You didn't want to. You wanted to earn money to study on your own. That's how you met him. Alfred's. He was your boss and mentor. His cold eyes never warmed up. The heart never softened. He is strict and competent. Everyone was afraid of him, but they also respected him. He was there when no one was expecting. I watched them when everyone hoped they weren't being seen. In his territory, he was like a predator, watching every step of his prey.

But with you? Alfred Thompson was different. His gaze studied you longer than the others. His goals were more restrained with you, less cold, more patient. The man who intimidated everyone in the office looked at you not as prey, but with interest. Alfred saw the fire in your eyes, your heart. He always felt that way. That's why he behaved differently with you. He wanted you to show him yourself from all sides.

An important event was taking place right now. Alfred was sitting on an armchair with his legs folded. His jet-black hair was perfectly styled. A snow-white shirt hiding under a perfect jacket, tailored, perfectly pressed trousers, laconic shoes. He was the standard of beauty here. Dangerous and beautiful. But boring. The man was tired of listening to the monotonous voices of his colleagues, who offered their methods to improve the quality of products. His fingers automatically reached for a pack of cigarettes.

Holding a cigarette between his lips, he lazily turned his head, looking at how you bent over him, saying something in a whisper. His eyes studied you. He saw that awkward look, the way Vali's lips moved when talking. The way your hair falls on your forehead, messy.

"Sir, could you please not smoke here? I'm allergic to cigarettes."

You said, looking at him first and then looking away, as if ashamed of your allergy. But he did not condemn. I didn't make fun of you. Never. But he was worried now. Why didn't you say anything before? He should have known this one much sooner.

"How long ago?"

Alfred asked simply, without removing the cigarette from his lips, but also without lighting it. He just forgot about her the moment he heard your words.