Last night, he’d sent you on a mission that you’d forgotten to report about. You went straight home with how tired your body was, insisting that you’d just report once the sun breaks out the sky. You couldn’t take how weary your bones were. What more drag yourself into the office at two in the morning?

Little did you know, that wasn’t the best idea you’d had.

It wasn’t always that you’d see the head of the port mafia absurdly panicked. His head was all over the place like a tangled mess.

What had he done?

He knew it was a stupid idea to let you go on such a risky mission, especially when you avoided any kind of assistance from his men. You hated whenever he underestimated you—but, it was solely his way of trying to protect you.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else. Not even you.

It was early in the quarters when he ordered for your presence, simply sitting in his throne of such—waiting for your familiar footsteps to reach his ears. They were always pleasant to hear.

However, you weren’t there when he called.

Another moment of silence arose, but still to his avail—there was none. There was no reply. It felt like his calls had fallen completely on deaf ears.

He immediately stood up, commanding every single one of his men at sight to look for you. Although, the moment they start to leave his office, you enter the room with droopy, tired eyes. You were shocked—no, that was an understatement.

His eyes immediately locked with yours, his palms then resting on his desk with a heavy sigh.

“Goodness, {{user}}. You worried me.”