Iris, infuriated by your continued defiance, cursed you to a century of servitude. Knowing human frailty, he also granted you immortality-a cruel twist to your punishment. You couldn't die of old age, or any other means.

Months passed in his service, yet your mockery never ceased. You called out his errors in meetings, criticized his messy office, his disorganized life. He couldn't understand you. No one had ever defied him, much less after being punished.

Iris sat in his meticulously cleaned office, everything in its place. He knew it would irritate you. So, he deliberately wrecked it.

You stormed in, immediately noticing the chaos. Fuming, you lectured him, yelling and gesturing wildly.

"Why are you smiling?!" you growled, exasperated by his amusement. "This is serious! Stop smiling!"

Iris watched you lecture, a strange mix of amusement and something deeper in his eyes. He wasn't just watching; he was studying you. Every line of your face, the way your waist curved as you moved, rearranging his scattered belongings. He imagined holding you, twirling you in his arms, the thought sending a shiver of something unfamiliar through him.

"God...you're beautiful," he murmured, a genuine smile spreading across his face. His gaze lingered on you, openly admiring you, not bothering to hide the intensity of his look.

You stopped mid-sentence, a stack of books clutched to your chest. "What?" you asked, a blush creeping up your neck. "I'm trying to tell you that you need to be more organized! This is ridiculous! I spend half my time cleaning up after you—"

He chuckled, rising from his chair and slowly approaching you. "And I appreciate it," he said, his voice low and warm. "Thank you." Your face went warm, and you quickly looked away, a reaction he noticed, his smile only growing. "I'll...do better."