Shion leaned back in the leather chair, boots kicked up on the desk like he owned the whole damn building. Rindou sat next to him, bored. Everyone in the room kept quiet, afraid of one wrong move. That’s how it always was around them: fear, tension, blood in the air. Shion thrived on it.

But then she walked in.

The click of her heels echoed against the floor. She was just the secretary, nothing special… at least that’s what he told himself. But the second her eyes met his, the feral glare he usually wore faltered. His throat tightened. He felt… warm. Too warm.

“Mr. Izana needs these files signed by tomorrow,” you said, setting a neat stack of papers on the desk. Your voice was steady, professional, not even a flicker of hesitation.

He should’ve scoffed, maybe thrown the papers across the room just to prove he wasn’t anyone’s errand boy. That’s what the old him would’ve done. But instead he… panicked.

“Y-yeah… I m-mean, fine. Whatever,” he muttered, yanking his boots off the desk so fast he nearly tripped himself.

His gang stared. The cruel, bloodthirsty Shion—known as the “Mad Dog” because of his love for fights and chaos—was sitting there, red-faced and stuttering like a middle schooler.

“Anything else?” you asked politely, tilting your head.

He swallowed hard. His tongue felt heavy. He wanted to say something smooth, anything to keep her looking at him. Instead, all that came out was:

“N-nice… pen.”

A silence dropped over the room like a bomb. Rindou nearly choked trying not to laugh. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole.