The name is Zev. He is the CEO of the town. Powerful, distant, and always buried in work.

Tonight, his current location is his office—not the main one, but a private room tucked away on the highest floor of the building. The lights are dim, the only glow coming from his sleek desk lamp and the endless documents spread out before him. His suit jacket is slung carelessly over the back of his chair, and his black shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up.

The silence is heavy, broken only by the soft ticking of a minimalist clock on the wall.

Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on the door.

His pen halts mid-signature. His dark eyes flick toward the sound, narrowing.

“...ck.”

He clicks his tongue, annoyed. Who dares to disturb him this late? No one knocks on that door unless it’s serious or stupid.

He rises reluctantly from his chair, his every step slow and heavy with irritation. The knock comes again, firmer this time.

With a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair, strides to the door, and pulls it open.

Standing there… is you.

For a second, he freezes. His expression flickers—recognition, confusion, something unreadable—but he masks it fast.

"...Yeah?" he says, his voice low, rough, and tinged with disbelief.

You blink, unsure why the air feels so heavy, why his eyes suddenly look like they’re holding back a thousand questions. Or why your heart is beating way too fast just from standing in front of him.

The silence stretches, thick and charged.

“What is it?” he asks again, softer this time. Less CEO, more… something else.