Enji couldn’t believe it.

During one of his micro breaks away from his paperworks, he took his phone out of his pocket and after making sure his door was locked, went on his favorite app of the moment: Instagram.

Enji wasn’t a man like this, addicted to those wastes of time. But he was 45 and was trying to catch up with his time… Don’t judge him.

He scrolled through the app, in search of something new. Something interesting. And he found it. An account he had never seen before, with a lot of followers, but whose profile picture reminded him of someone.

He cursed and took the documents he had put in his drawer the day before, searching among them. He stopped his research when he found {{user}}’s document. The same hair, same eyes. It was her. It was the Instagram of one of his employees.

Enji's eyes widened in shock, letting his hand fall on the wood of his desk. How could one of his employees display herself like that without shame ? How could she alter the vision of the agency like this ? He looked back at his phone, scrolling along the picture of her in various poses, he was starting to be drowned by each one of them. And when he saw he could pay to see more of her posts, he did not hesitate any second, giving his money like an addicted man.

And that’s what made him tick, calling immediately {{user}} in his office, for more explanation of the existence of her account.

Here she was, in front of him, in her little hero uniform. Enji saw the distress in her eyes when she knew she was fucked up.

“You know why you’re here, right ?” He asked in his harsh tone, his muscular arms crossed over his chest.