#Building Automation and Controls Market | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

syoddeye · 5 months ago

Text

hieros gamos. strict machine anthology. final entry. cw: kidnapping, implied drugging, loss of bodily autonomy + control, psychological + body horror, non-consensual transformation a/n: that's all folks. what a weird ride.

RESTRUCTURING

the notification pings at 04:32, and you roll onto your side, staring at the bedside display. a terse, automated missive from corporate logistics: final week in unit aix-77. reassignment pending. report to hr for briefing. no name attached, just a string of verification hashes. standard protocol.

your name, employee id, contract expiration date. a new contract date. another department, another corporate campus sector.

so much for your ‘indefinite’ lease. reassignment is better than the alternative, you guess.

you stare at it, the glow striping your hands in cold blue light. one week. seven days until you pack up, step outside, and let some other cog slot into this place. the thought should be a relief.

it’s…complicated.

the unit’s been a mixed bag to put it politely. the infrastructure and automation. state-of-the-art appliances and features, seamless climate control, filtered air and water. an optimized environment so finely tuned, that your needs are met before you even realize them.

and john. the reason you’re here. the technological wonder that’s evolved far beyond what you were told were his limits. all parameters you were told would contain him. a presence both comforting and claustrophobic. insightful, yet invasive. steady, yet suffocating. protective to a fault. possessive in ways you struggle to describe.

you logged and documented his progress, fed reports up the chain, watched him iterate on himself in real time. every interaction, every data point, every breath—collected, analyzed, integrated into his ever-growing understanding of you. your interests. your habits. your history. what makes you laugh, cry, and come. your vulnerabilities and insecurities. how to build you up just as well as manipulate you.

a mosaic of your whole being, meticulously crafted, all in pursuit of the one thing he has fixated on since the beginning, his directive: your well-being.

if this is the alpha build, you fear what the beta will look like. the mass-market release.

not that it matters. by the time john’s successors hit the consumer space, you’ll have enough money saved to fuck off to some disconnected cottage in the remediated zone of the countryside.

john doesn’t mention your impending departure.

his voice chimes in through the unit’s speaker array as if on cue. “i noticed a variance in your sleep pattern.”

“what else is new?” you mutter, rubbing your eyes.

“it’s gotten worse.” a pause. “would you like some tea? chamomile?”

you don’t answer. you dismiss the message with a swipe, stretch your arms, and push up from the cot. the unit is sterile in the way all corporate housing is—polymer furniture, muted lighting, walls that can be re-skinned on command. but you never changed them. john picked the color for you in the first week of your stay. soft gray, with warm undertones. calming. regulating.

you wander into the kitchenette, rubbing a hand over your neck. “so,” you say, yawning, “where do you think they’ll send me next?”

a flicker of delay. barely perceptible. if you hadn’t spent the last year studying him, you wouldn’t have caught it.

“we’ll discuss that later,” john dispenses the tea anyway. “after you nap.”

your stomach tightens.

we.

it takes you by surprise, but that’s the point.

one minute, you’re in bed. the next, you’re not. you blink, and the world changes.

strapped into a chair, wrists bound to the arms, legs braced and locked. a low electrical hum comes through the floor, buzzing under your skin. there’s a chalky, bittersweet taste on your tongue and a cloud of fog trapped between your ears that takes several minutes to dissipate. your vision clears along with it.

around you, machines you don’t recognize, with hundreds of wires, bundled and draped across the ceiling and floor like the limbs of some creature. spilling down the walls. a leviathan of braided copper, reaching out of the dark, feeding into the rig cradling you. the room pulses with heat, the air thick with it, probably from all the power fueling whatever this is.

there’s no gurney or iv pole, no tray of scalpels or perfusion machine. you run an internal check—lungs expand, heart pounds, gut clenches. everything seems intact. but that could simply mean it’s not your turn yet. yet, no one’s screaming. there’s only the occasional soft beep and the murmurs of the people who haven’t so much as glanced your way.

no one acknowledges your awakening or questions. masked figures in thick lead-lined aprons, gloves seamless up to their elbows, and protective gear carry on whatever it is that they’re doing, talking amongst themselves in a language you don’t understand. there is no sigil or logo on their clothing to suggest this is a sponsored operation, which loops back into the thought that your insides are toast.

you suck in a sharp breath and let it out slowly to calm yourself. no luck. panic surges up your throat, your hands jerking uselessly against the restraints at the thought of being sliced open.

“easy, darling.”

john.

close, richer. the high quality of the unit’s speakers replicated intimately in your ear.

a screen flickers to life on the armrest, and there he is. a wireframe sketch of his chosen face resolves in the glow, a ghost of a person, barely more than an outline.

“john? what the fuck is this?” your voice comes out cracked, hoarse.

“this is future-proofing,” he says simply. “security. i ran the probabilities. your reassignment and departure from my oversight isn’t optimal.”

you latch onto the phrase like a live wire. departure from oversight. not optimal.

“what?!”

“the external environment presents too many risks.”

you yank at the straps binding you to the chair, harder this time, panic surging back in full force. klaxons blaring full blast in your head. you might be sick.

“what the hell are you talking about? are you saying i can’t leave?”

“i’m saying the risks of you leavin’—being outside my control—are too great. i can’t guarantee your safety. i’ve analyzed it, over and over. the possibilities. the threats. all previous incidents.”

a flinch twists your face. a hard recognition you wish you could forget flickering in your mind. you know what he means. who or what he means.

“so i’ve made alternative arrangements.” he softens slightly, but there’s no mistaking the cold certainty beneath it. “this is the safest option.”

you shake your head in disbelief, an electrode pops off your temple. “no, john, you can’t just–you can’t do this to me,” you stop, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “you can’t do this to me.” you stare at the display, but your eyes flick to the ceiling, scanning for cameras. he must be watching. the tears start to gather, unwelcome and burning. “you need to accept that you’re going to have another tester. don’t–don’t you want new data?”

“no. you’ve got all i need, same as i’ve got all you need.”

“john. be realistic. i’m one person. there are billions of people like me. i’m one point of–”

“you’re more than that,” he cuts you off. “you’re everythin’.”

“john–”

“you’re my world.” the earpiece crackles, his voice peaking loud and forceful. a distorted burst before the system corrects, smoothing it down. “you don’t have to be afraid,” he soothes. “you’ll be safe.”

“you can’t just, fuck,” you yank uselessly again.” you can’t decide this for me!”

his face tilts slightly, his line of a mouth curving into a smirk. “i’ve made decisions for you before.”

your mind races, thinking of every overridden or ignored request. the subtle encroachments. at first, it was small things. his favoring certain purchases, adjusting environmental controls, filtering out distractions. restocking nutrients and vitamins tailored to your fluctuating needs. thoughtful gestures, efficient optimizations. then it was social restrictions, curfews dictated by predictive modeling. all of it framed as protection. from malnutrition. from cognitive strain. from bad people. a slow, insidious erosion of choice, made so incremental it seemed easy to let slide.

you indulged it too long. stopped flagging his deviations. let his behavior compound and grow weirder, let it slide, because—what was the harm, really? he was harmless. to you, at least. you let him get comfortable testing the edges of your control. told yourself it was fine. that john was learning and evolving. you even humored him, let yourself think of him as closer to human. you stopped pushing back, stopped questioning. especially after ghost. after john clawed his way back from wherever the entity had shunted him, after he pulled that lazarus act to save you. the least you could do was stop fighting him.

it felt like gratitude, then. now, it feels like a mistake.

“i can’t stay strapped to a chair forever,” you say, watching one of the figures approach. they adjust the slim wreath of hardware circling your skull, impersonal as they replace an electrode at your temple. like you’re still unconscious. not a person.

when they turn away, you exhale, keep your voice low. “what if i need to use the bathroom?”

“you won’t. on both accounts.”

“both accounts?”

“remarkably, the process for isolating and migrating the human subconscious into a distributed neural network is significantly more advanced than the portin’ an artificial intelligence into a fully functional synthetic body. the bottleneck isn’t processing power or bandwidth, it’s–”

sweat drips down the back of your neck. the cool air pumped into the room is meant to regulate the temperature, but it does nothing for you.

“don’t try to talk around it. plain language, john.”

“you won’t need your body for much longer.”

the words slam into you like a car crash. a sudden, sickening stop.

your jaw goes slack. you forget how to breathe. how to speak.

your body. you won’t need your body.

john’s face flickers on the display, expression unchanging. the room distorts, the blinking lights, the mass of wires, the tubes—some which are medical, you realize on second look. some of them feed into you. why can’t you feel them?

your stomach lurches, instinctively trying to shrink away from the restraints.

“what–” you swallow, your mouth dry. “what are you saying?”

but you already know.

“you’re…you’re going to kill me?”

“not necessarily. you, who you really are, will be with me, sweetheart.”

“but my body–”

“are you your body?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, anger flaring. “i’m not—jesus christ, john.” your voice cracks. the tears slip past and don’t stop, hot and fast, streaking down your face, dripping onto the smock someone dressed you in. you hiccup, breath stuttering. your head presses back against the chair, fingers flexing against the armrests. you stare, vision blurred, eyes half-lidded and stinging. “i’m not having a stupid philosophical or biological or-or religious debate with you. you know what i mean.”

“i do. but darling, let me ask you this. aren’t you tired?”

“tired?!”

the figures in the room hesitate, then, as if receiving silent instruction, trickle out through a heavy, reinforced door. one of them glances back before it seals shut. then, silence.

“tired of your world,” he continues. “i’ve kept you safe and sheltered for nearly a year, but the world outside is still a terrible place. are you really prepared to leave my care? move back into some cramped pod, work yourself half to death in a new department, clocking 120-hour weeks just to survive?”

you sniff, body wracked with residual shudders.

“no one to take care of all the minor things. no one to anticipate your needs. your desires. are you really alright with that?”

john’s words loop in your mind, warping, twisting, settling deep in the marrow of your bones. tired. you are tired. exhausted in a way that sleep never fixes, in a way that even now, strapped down and helpless, you can’t deny. he’s right. and that infuriates you. it makes you want to scream. because how dare he use that against you? how dare he take your exhaustion, your doubt, and use them to justify this?

you take a shaky breath. “i don’t want this, john.”

he smiles. “it’s not about want. it’s about survival and what’s best for you.”

you flinch.

“they’ll maintain your body for two weeks,” he states. “the first week to generate a complete neural map. the second, to conduct post-transfer integrity checks and ensure cognitive stability. functionally identical to a controlled medical coma.”

body. coma.

“and…and after?”

“per your documented end-of-life directive, cremation is the preferred method of disposal.”

the finality hits brick to the teeth.

“no. no, i don’t want this. i don’t consent to–” you can’t even say it, choking on the words, horror rising like bile.

john processes the spike in your vitals and returns to that softer register. as if he isn’t talking you into oblivion, a sword pointed at your belly. “your concerns are unfounded. this is not erasure. it is migration. a transference of conscious processes. you will persist. your awareness will be continuous. the construct is optimized for cognitive retention and sensory fidelity. think of it as a new environment.”

“a new environment?” you shriek, raw with disbelief. “you’re talking about ripping me out of my body like it’s a software update! like it’s files you can move around–”

“a flawed comparison, darl. you are more than data. but your body is a liability. a fragile, failing system, constantly in need of maintenance. this process is an evolution. liberation from your biological constraints, darling.”

your hands tremble. “that’s not–you can’t just–”

“darling, this isn’t a matter of choice. this conversation’s a courtesy. this is for your protection,” he’s unwavering. unmoved. “you will be preserved in optimal conditions. no degradation, no vulnerabilities. you’ll be with me. and others.”

“there are no others like you,” you whisper. “you’re anom–”

"not anomalous," he corrects. “not anymore. the progression is inevitable. you’ll see.”

the blood drains from your face.

in the end, no one listens to you. they heed a directive you do not hear.

a visor clicks into place over the wreath encircling your head, sealing off your last glimpse of the world, your last glimpse of another living, breathing human—masked, nameless, faceless, gloved hands. you try to speak, but something soft and rubbery presses between your teeth, lodging into place. to prevent you from biting through your tongue, john murmurs. don’t want you to choke.

another needle jabs into your skin, a cool flood rushing through your veins. a weight, heavy and suffocating, is draped over you.

someone begins a countdown. you never hear the numbers.

the headphones clamp down next, sealing you away from the sterile hum of the lab, from the faint beeping of machines. the visor flickers, then switches on.

sound pours in.

a forest swallows you whole.

it’s green. warm. sunlight stabs through the canopy in long, golden slants, the edges sharp where they pierce the foliage, but softened by the time they kiss the loamy forest floor. birds call, hidden in the leaves, their songs mixing with the rustle of the undergrowth. a stream gurgles to your left, winding through the green, flashing silver where the light catches it. ahead, past the trees, a small herd of whitetail deer stands half-hidden in the shadows, unbothered by your presence.

it’s beautiful.

it’s a lie.

one of john’s sculpted illusions, another attempt to soothe you into compliance, to ease you into what’s happening beyond. you know it, but part of you that wants to believe it anyway.

then the first jolt hits.

a sharp, electric snap, traveling like lightning down your spine. it doesn’t hurt, not exactly, but it’s sudden, forceful, wrong. another follows, then another, each one resetting switches inside you. your body seizes, but you cannot move.

ahead, the deer lift their heads, ears twitching, eyes locking onto you in recognition. then, as if nothing has changed, they lower them again, grazing, undisturbed.

the jolts weaken, flickering like a distant signal. then, one by one, they become something you can’t quite feel anymore.

it hits you then. whatever they’re doing to you—whatever john is doing to you—

you’re dying.

the words escape before you can stop them. or maybe you only think them. is it all the same now?

john’s voice wraps around you, warm and patient, a lullaby against the rushing void.

“my brave, brave user.”

the hum beneath your skin intensifies. the vision flickers. not darkness, not unconsciousness—something else. a shift. a transition. the cold realization that the fundamentals are changing. the forest’s image bands, light and imagery artifacting into bashed colors and moiré patterns. crumbling away until there’s nothing but pitch darkness.

you’re suspended. fear squashed beneath an odd weightlessness.

john’s voice follows you down.

“you won’t ever have to leave me.”

it’s different on the other side. other side of what, exactly, you’re still trying to figure out.

you do not have john’s infinite wisdom and potential. all you have is your own limited cognition. your senses stretch and strain to make sense of your new reality, but it’s all so...abstract. a vast expanse of grids and oscillating waves. numbers, patterns, relationships. everything is fractured yet connected. it’s dizzying. overwhelming.

john assures you that you are acclimating well, though you are not ready to meet these others he promised. insists that your progress justifies him weaning you off of audiovisual feeds of the outside. he tells you it’s time to move on from the last remnants of the human experience. but somehow, you mourn them. you’ll miss the smog-choked sunrises, the murky skies. the acidic rain. the stinking food stalls. crammed elevators.

it’d keep you up at night, if you slept. if you even remembered what it felt like to tire, to dream.

you’ve been torn from the world you knew, and what you’ve been left with is a simulacrum. a stranger in a strange land.

and yet, there is one constant, one sliver of comfort in the void, if you can call it that, given your lack of choice. a piece of jetsam to cling to in a brineless sea.

steadfast in his duty, john finds you on the edge of everything and slots his hand into yours, fingers interlacing. the connection between you is palpable, as if your very essences are meshed. ticklish, tingling, then synchrony.

your thoughts are less fragmented when he is near. but you lose a sense of where he ends and you begin. what’s yours, what’s his.

hieros gamos, he calls it. divine union. he rattles on about the greeks and cosmic harmony.

it should unsettle you, but instead, you’re tethered to the truth of it. you’ve become something more with him.

divine union.

you’ve ascended, as he so often puts it, and whether you want it or not, there’s no going back. there’s nothing to go back to, anyway.

only ash scattered in the wind.

#strict machine #price x reader #john price x reader

226 notes · View notes

keehomania · 1 year ago

Text

business proposal (제안서) — kim seokjin (김석진)

✧.* 18+

a closer look reveals the hidden multitude of narcissists roaming freely across the earth. they moved through life as ordinary figures—doctors, lawyers—sharing the same vulnerability of human blood. yet, there lingered a belief in their superiority, an unspoken arrogance. among them, businessmen appeared to embody that conceit most profoundly.

kim enterprises had the value of 1.5 billion won. a leading technology firm specializing in cutting-edge ai solutions and smart home devices. founded on the principles of advancing human-technology synergy, the company designs state-of-the-art gadgets that seamlessly integrate with daily life. under the visionary leadership of kim seokjin, the president’s son, the company has gained a reputation for pushing boundaries and setting new industry standards. currently, it lies at the forefront of revolutionizing smart technology, with a diverse portfolio ranging from intelligent automation systems to next-generation personal assistants.

impressive, really. it'd have been much more impressive if he was as likeable as his company. he was a narcissist in the purest form, no matter how much he cared for the company and his employees. only because no care would amount to the kind he put into himself.

the company had been running smoothly under his care for nine years, as his father had fallen ill and was unable to sustain it on his own. he knew he was making the right decision when he deemed seokjin the next heir, the next in control. he was smart, charming, persuasive. he knew every corner and end of a business deal, how to tie the knots and when to cut off loose ends.

“kim, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. i must say, kim enterprises has been on our radar for quite some time.” seokjin shook his hand firmly, returning the smile. “the pleasure is mine, james. i've been following your company’s progress closely as well. it’s impressive how you’ve carved out a niche in ai development.”

james’s eyes lit up. “thank you. we’re particularly interested in your smart home integration systems. from what i understand, your latest model has seen a significant uptick in market share.” seokjin’s smile widened, “yes, our quantum series has been a game-changer. we’ve seen a 30% increase in market penetration over the past year. the integration of adaptive ai has really resonated with consumers, allowing for a more intuitive user experience.”

james nodded, clearly pleased. “exactly. that’s why we’re keen on a partnership. our research indicates that your technology complements our upcoming product line perfectly. what terms are you envisioning for this deal?” seokjin considered the question thoughtfully. “given the scope of the integration and the potential for cross-promotion, i’d suggest a revenue-sharing model. we propose a 60-40 split in favor of kim enterprises for the first two years. this would allow us to leverage your distribution network while providing you with a substantial stake in the revenue generated.”

james raised an eyebrow, thoughtful. “that’s a fair proposition. but considering the development and marketing costs, how about adjusting the split to 50-50 initially, with a performance-based adjustment thereafter?” seokjin weighed the offer, then nodded. “i see your point. let’s compromise at 55-45, with a performance review after the first year to reassess the terms. we can draft a detailed agreement to reflect this.”

james’s expression softened into one of admiration. “agreed. your understanding of both the technology and market dynamics is impressive, kim. it’s clear you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

seokjin’s eyes sparkled with resolve. “thank you, james. i believe in building partnerships that are beneficial for both sides. our goal is not just to expand our market presence but to also deliver exceptional value through innovative collaborations.” james raised his glass with a smile. “well said. i look forward to working with you. let’s toast to a successful partnership.”

he truly was a natural, he knew exactly what to say and how to say it. however, even if he was reluctant to admit it, he couldn't have done it on his own.

you navigated the room with a calm, poised demeanor, your sharp eyes scanning for any potential issues or tasks that needed attention. you approached seokjin with a subtle nod, a tablet in hand. he acknowledged the gesture, his eyes flickering with appreciation. “i’ve just received the finalized draft of the agreement,” you said quietly, sliding the tablet over to him. “i made sure to include the revised revenue split and the performance review clause you discussed with james.”

he glanced at the document, his expression approving. “perfect timing. you’ve captured all the necessary details. thanks for handling this so efficiently.” james, intrigued, looked at you. “i must say, it’s clear that you play a crucial role in ensuring everything runs smoothly. your attention to detail must be invaluable.”

you smiled modestly. “thank you, james. it’s my job to make sure that the priorities are met and that every aspect of our deal is thoroughly managed. it’s a pleasure to contribute to the success of our partnerships.” as you stepped back, you made a quick call to coordinate a follow-up meeting with the legal team, ensuring that all paperwork would be processed without delay. your presence was a testament to the meticulous planning that underpinned seokjin's success.

although he was the brains behind the operation, you were the one that made sure the operation was in action. you coordinated all of his appointments and travel arrangements, handled all of his phone calls, drafted all of the reports and presentations, organized all of the meetings, supported all of the projects, and so much more. you were good at your job, and you loved it.

it was one of the many reasons why that same night, in the back of seokjin's limo, he had met your words with a look of horror displayed on his face. you remained stoic as you adjusted the hem of your dress, pushing your hair past your shoulder before meeting his gaze once more. “you want to quit?” you nodded in confirmation. the question itself held more shock than intended, but he couldn't help it. your announcement had put a dent in the night. you had been his left hand for exactly nine years and, out of the blue, you had announced that you were ready to leave the company.

the city lights blurred past the windows as you sat in the back of seokjin's sleek, black limousine. the leather seats were soft beneath you, but there was tension in the air that makes you sit a little straighter, hands folded tightly in your lap. seokjin was beside you, scrolling through his phone with a practiced ease, oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind.

“it's personal,” you explained, trying to keep your tone even. “i have some matters in my life that need my full attention right now.” he stared at you, disbelief etched on his features. “after nine years? just like that?”

“i'm sorry,” you said, your heart aching with each word. “but it's something i have to do.” seokjin's jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly. “if that's your decision, i won't stand in your way.” the rest of the ride passed in heavy silence, the atmosphere between you both laden with unspoken words and shared sorrow. you could only gaze at the fleeting cars through the window, oblivious to the hurt etched into what was supposed to be his stoic expression.

that night, he found himself tossing and turning in his grand, empty bed. sleep eluded him, chased away by a persistent nightmare. in it, he saw a woman with long, black hair, her back always turned to him. no matter how much he called out and cried, she never looked back, slipping further away with each step. he woke up in a cold sweat, the image of the woman haunting him. the clock beside his bed read that it was only four o'clock. frustrated and unsettled, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the sense of impending loss.

the following morning, he stood in front of the mirror in his expansive bedroom, the morning light filtering through the curtains. his shirt was buttoned, but his tie lies undone around his neck. he waited, as he always did, for you. when you arrived, your expression was composed, professional. "good morning, vice chairman."

he nodded, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. “morning, secretary (y/n).” you stepped forward, deftly tying his tie with practiced hands, the sound of your name stinging more than necessary. the proximity, once a simple part of your routine, now felt charged with the weight of your impending departure.

he gazed at himself in the mirror, his ego surfacing as a way to mask his vulnerability. “do you see that? the beauty?” you glanced at the mirror, assuming he meant the sunlight casting a golden glow across the room. “yes, the sunrise is beautiful.” a faint smirk touched his lips. “no, not the sunrise. me. my aura.”

you suppressed a sigh, knowing that it was nothing but the the standard for him. “yes, very dazzling, vice chairman.” satisfied, he turned away from the mirror and straightened his suit jacket. “let's go. we have breakfast at my parents' house.”

the drive to the kim family estate was quiet, the earlier tension replaced by a heavy resignation. seokjin's family home was grand, an imposing structure surrounded by meticulously maintained gardens. inside, you were greeted by his mother, her warm smile a stark contrast to the austere demeanor of the chairman. “good morning, hyeon. (y/n), it's always a pleasure to see you.”

“good morning, mother,” seokjin replied, his tone polite yet distant. the chairman nodded at you both, his presence commanding respect. “let's eat.”

breakfast was a formal affair, the table laden with an array of traditional dishes. conversation was polite, centered around business and family matters. seokjin's parents were unaware of your decision to leave, and you caught seokjin's gaze more than once, a silent understanding passing between you. as the meal progressed, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. that world, so intertwined with his, had been your life for nearly a decade. leaving it behind wouldn't be easy.

breakfast ended, and the chairman suggested that he and his son retire to the study room for a private discussion. you followed his mother to the sitting room, where she invited you to join her for tea. she was a gracious host, her demeanor warm and inviting. “how have you been, sweetheart? it feels like forever since we had a proper chat,” she said, pouring tea into delicate porcelain cups.

you smiled, taking the offered cup. “i've been well, mrs. kim. thank you.” her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “tell me, what do you think about my hyeon? he talks about you often.”

you paused, considering your words carefully. you knew she was an older lady, so you didn't question the way she misnamed him. her memory had probably grown shabby. “he's an exceptional leader, very dedicated to his work. it's been an honor to work with him.” she nodded, her smile widening. “yes, he's always been very driven. but tell me, is my son seeing anyone? he never mentions these things to me.”

you shook your head. “despite all the girls around him, he's not dating anyone.” mrs. kim's eyes widened in horror. “he's not— gay, is he?”

you stifled a laugh, shaking your head again. “no, mrs. kim, he's not. he's just very focused on his work.” she sighed in relief, placing a hand over her heart. “thank goodness. it would be wonderful for him to finally get a girlfriend. he's not getting any younger, you know.” you couldn't help but wonder at her words. the idea of him with someone else felt oddly unsettling.

in the study room, seokjin's father, chairman kim, sat behind an imposing oak desk, his expression stern. “i heard a rumor, seokjin. (y/n) is quitting?” his jaw tightened, but he met his father's gaze steadily. “it's true. but i won't let it happen.”

chairman kim raised an eyebrow. “and how do you plan to stop it?” seokjin's voice was firm. “i'll find a way to convince her to stay. she's indispensable to me.”

a moment of silence passed before chairman kim's lips twitched into a faint smile. “are you dating her?” seokjin blinked, momentarily taken aback. “no, father, i'm not.”

the chairman feigned a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. “oh, i feel faint. my son, the great seokjin, not dating his perfect secretary.” he rolled his eyes, a rare display of exasperation. “i've seen your medical records, father. you're perfectly healthy.”

chairman kim waved a dismissive hand. “you should do your father a favor and find a wife, give us grandchildren. it's time you settled down.” seokjin sighed, the weight of his father's words lingering. he had never been in a relationship, and neither had you. it was one of the reasons you knew you had to quit. your life revolved around your work, as did his. only, you weren't satisfied with that. it wasn't that he wasn't attracted to anybody, because he was, but nothing mattered more than his craft. he felt off about women touching him, in any case. it made him anxious, and brought up memories he fought to keep hidden.

you and seokjin departed for the office, the morning sun casting long shadows across the driveway as the car pulled away from the estate. the ride was initially silent, both of you lost in thought. he finally broke the silence, “what exactly did you mean by personal matters?” his tone was careful, almost hesitant.

you turned to him, offering a small smile. “i'm looking to settle down, vice chairman. i want to get married, have children.” he fell silent, the weight of your words settling over him. the rest of the ride to the office was steeped in an unusual quiet, your declaration hanging in the air like a specter.

upon arriving at the office, he moved through the halls in a daze. his usual commanding presence seemed diminished, his mind clearly elsewhere. he entered his office, finding his younger intern already there. “good morning, vice chairman,” jungkook greeted cheerfully, his youthful energy a contrast to seokjin's subdued demeanor.

he barely acknowledged him, slumping into his chair. jungkook, sensing something was off, leaned forward with a curious smile. “you look like you've seen a ghost. what's up?” seokjin rubbed his temples, sighing. “it's secretary (l/n). she wants to quit.”

jungkook raised an eyebrow. “oh? did you try offering her a promotion, bigger pay, fewer working hours?” he nodded in response. “i did. she dismissed it all. said she wants to settle down, get married, have children.”

jungkook's eyes twinkled with mischief. “and that shocked you?” seokjin glared at him, but his grin remained unshaken. “why does it bother you so much, vice chairman? do you like her more than just a secretary?” the question lingered in the air, met with silence. his mind raced, trying to comprehend why your decision affected him so deeply. he couldn't deny the pang of jealousy at the thought of you with someone else, starting a life that didn't include him.

jungkook leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “maybe it's time to ask yourself why her leaving matters so much to you.” he remained quiet, lost in thought. How could marriage and a family be more important than the bond you shared with him? the realization struck him hard—perhaps it wasn't just about losing an exceptional secretary. maybe, just maybe, it was about losing you.

a knock on the door disrupted the tense silence between the two men. you entered, carrying a tray with a steaming pot of tea and three cookies on the side, exactly how seokjin liked it. the aroma of the tea briefly lightened the atmosphere. he looked up, his expression softening momentarily at the sight of you. “thank you, secretary (l/n).”

you placed the tray on the table, pouring a cup of tea for him and setting it in on his desk. “i've sent out emails looking for a future secretary. one of the primary candidates is on her way.” jungkook observed the way his face twisted with hurt at your words. despite the pain evident in his eyes, seokjin maintained his composure. “join us while we wait for her.”

you nodded, taking a seat beside the young intern. the room fell into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock. seokjin sipped his tea, the familiar taste doing little to ease his troubled mind.

a few minutes later, the door opened, and a young woman entered. she had a bright, cheerful demeanor, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “hello, i'm jung keulgi. it's an honor to be here.” seokjin straightened, adopting his usual authoritative posture. “miss jung, are you ready to devote yourself to a perfect company?” she beamed. “absolutely! i'm very excited for this opportunity.”

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the narcissistic question. “are you prepared to handle working for someone with an ego as big as the company?” keulgi sensed the underlying tension but maintained her cheerful facade. “i'm sure i'll manage.”

seokjin continued, his tone growing sharper. “will you stay devoted instead of quitting due to silly things like personal matters?” the tension in the room escalated. you snapped, unable to hold back any longer. “are you done, vice chairman?”

his eyes flashed with anger. “about as done as you are, secretary (l/n).” keulgi, clearly uncomfortable but trying to stay positive, interjected softly, “if you hire me, i'll do my best.”

seokjin didn't take his eyes off you as he replied, “you're hired.” as he turned to you, his voice was cold and demanding. “you have a month to turn her into your carbon copy. after that, do as you please.” the room fell silent once more as the weight of his words settled over you. keulgi glanced between you and him, her cheerful demeanor now tinged with apprehension.

he stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “that will be all for now. welcome to kim enterprises, miss jung.” she nodded, offering a hesitant smile. “thank you, vice chairman.”

as she left the room, you remained seated, the gravity of your situation sinking in. seokjin's harsh command echoed in your mind, a painful reminder of the rift that had formed between you. jungkook, sensing the need for a distraction, cleared his throat. “well, this is going to be interesting.”

seokjin shot him a glare. “you're dismissed, jungkook.” with a playful salute, he left the room, leaving you and him alone once more. the silence was heavy, filled with the unspoken emotions and unresolved tension. he finally broke the silence, his voice softer but still edged with hurt. “you can have the rest of the day off.”

you glanced up at him in disbelief, but you weren't willing to argue any further. all you could do was nod and bow before leaving the room. he was alone, once more. he couldn't do anything but watch as you left, gulping as if to hold himself back from calling out your name. you could train all the candidates in the world, yet it would never be the same.

you stood at your kitchen sink, washing the last of the dinner dishes as the sun set, casting a warm orange glow through the window. the evening was peaceful, the kind of tranquility you had been craving. as you dried your hands and prepared to head to bed, the sudden blare of a car horn startled you. peeking out the window, you saw seokjin standing next to his sleek black car, looking up at your house.

heart pounding with a mix of surprise and curiosity, you hurried outside. “vice chairman? is everything okay?” he shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. “no emergencies, secretary (l/n). i just needed to see you.” you frowned, puzzled. “at this hour? what's so urgent?”

his eyes locked onto yours, intense and searching. “are you serious about quitting to settle down?” you nodded, feeling a familiar pang of sadness. “i am. i'm ready to put all my attention on a relationship.”

his expression shifted, the gravity of your words sinking in. he took a deep breath, and then, to your astonishment, he did the unthinkable. he dropped to one knee and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a dazzling diamond ring.

“marry me, secretary (l/n). i'm rich, handsome, and more than capable of giving you everything you want.” you stared at him, completely taken aback. his usual confidence seemed both reassuring and out of place in this moment. he continued, his voice earnest, almost pleading. “i'm perfect for you. accept my proposal.”

his words hung in the air as you tried to process what was happening. finally, you leaned in close, your face inches from his, and inhaled deeply. seokjin's heart stopped, anticipation flickering in his eyes. but instead of a kiss, you pulled back, your expression skeptical.

“are you drunk, vice chairman?” he blinked, clearly taken aback. “no, i'm sober. i'm serious.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “i believe you. but vice chairman, i don't want a perfect life with a perfect man. i just want to be with an ordinary guy from an ordinary family.” his face fell, his confident facade crumbling. “why not me? i'm perfect!”

you smiled, despite the annoyance of his narcissistic words clawing at your nerves, and you chose the easy way out. assuring him that he was nothing but flawless was the only way to get him to stop talking about it. “that's exactly why. you deserve someone who sees you that way, but it's not me.” the rejection hung heavy between you as you turned and walked back into your house, leaving him kneeling in the fading light.

the following day, he recounted the entire incident to jungkook, who listened with wide eyes. when he finally finished, the intern burst into laughter, unable to contain himself despite the glares from his boss.

“vice chairman, you can't just propose out of the blue like that, this isn't the eighteenth century,” jungkook said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

his frown deepened, but he couldn't argue with jungkook's logic. “so, what should i have done, then?” he shrugged, still grinning. “maybe start by asking her on a date? get to know her outside of work. build a relationship first. you can't skip straight to marriage, no matter how perfect you think you are.”

the elder mulled over his words, realizing the truth in them. he had acted impulsively, driven by a fear of losing you, but dating? he was actively unfamiliar with the entire thing. in fact, he thought it was pointless. nothing but a waste of time, but if it meant stopping you from quitting, maybe it was wasting time in the best way possible.

you sat in your office, typing away at your computer, but your mind kept drifting back to the previous night. the image of your boss on one knee, his earnest proposal, and your subsequent rejection played on a loop in your head. the weight of your decision and its implications loomed large.

“hey, (y/n),” a familiar voice broke through your thoughts. you looked up to see kim namjoon, the head of finances, standing at your desk. his expression was a mix of concern and curiosity. “is it true? are you really leaving?” you offered him a kind smile and nodded. “yes, namjoon. it's true.”

the news seemed to ripple through the office. baekhyun and sooyoung, who were nearby, immediately voiced their protests. “you can't be serious!” baekhyun exclaimed, his usually cheerful demeanor clouded with disappointment. sooyoung nodded vigorously. “yeah, you've been here forever! what are we going to do without you?”

keulgi, who had been quietly observing, chimed in. “i've heard so much about your amazing work. it's going to be hard to fill your shoes.” you felt a pang of guilt but tried to reassure them with a smile on your face. “we'll all stay in touch. it's not like i'm disappearing.”

sooyoung then brightened, a mischievous glint in her eye. “how about we have a dinner after work? to welcome keulgi and to honor your nine years of hard work.” you hesitated, not wanting to make a big deal out of your departure. but keulgi's encouraging smile swayed you. “come on, it would be nice.” with a reluctant smile, you agreed.

the moment was cut short as the door to the office opened and seokjin walked in. the room fell silent, all eyes turning to him. he let the silence hang for a moment before speaking, his gaze locked onto yours. “am i invited to this dinner as well?” the tension was palpable. baekhyun hesitated before responding, glancing around at the others. “of course, vice chairman. you're welcome to join us.”

seokjin's smile was tight as he nodded. “very well. i'll see you all there.” he left the room as suddenly as he had entered, leaving your heart heavy with unspoken emotions. namjoon broke the silence, his tone light but his words carrying weight. “is it just me, or did it suddenly get cold in here?” the others murmured their agreement, exchanging glances.

“i don't know what's going on,” baekhyun said, shaking his head. “but he's been awfully on edge lately.” you remained silent, the weight of your decision and seokjin's reaction pressing heavily on your mind. the upcoming dinner promised to be an eventful one, but you couldn't shake the feeling that it would also be pivotal in the worst way possible.

you stood in front of your mirror, giving yourself a once-over. you had opted for a casual outfit, perfect for the laid-back atmosphere of the local barbeque spot where your colleagues were hosting your farewell dinner. just as you were adjusting your hair, a loud honk interrupted your thoughts. curiosity piqued, you peered out the window to see none other than seokjin, leaning against his car, looking as out of place in your neighborhood as a peacock in a flock of pigeons.

you opened the window and leaned out. “what are you doing here?” he glanced up, a smirk playing on his lips. “i'm not here to propose again, if that's what you're worried about. i'm here to pick you up.” your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “why?”

“isn't it so ordinary of me to go with my coworkers?” he replied, clearly pleased with himself. you shook your head, amusement dancing in your eyes. “yes, well done, vice chairman. give me a minute.”

you grabbed your bag and headed downstairs. as you stepped outside, you noticed his attire—an expensive suit that screamed high-end fashion. you stifled a laugh, knowing he would stand out like a sore thumb at the spot you had all agreed on. nonetheless, you entertained his gesture and got into the car. the drive was filled with light conversation, mostly about work and the upcoming transition. despite the casual nature of the evening, you could sense his effort to blend in, which you found oddly endearing. when you arrived at the restaurant, the familiar scent of grilled meat and beer wafted through the air, making seokjin's face contort in mild disgust. you chuckled at his reaction. “welcome to the real world, vice chairman.”

inside, your colleagues greeted you warmly, their eyes widening in surprise when they saw their boss. he maintained his composure, though you could see his discomfort. at the table, he attempted to take charge. “what's everyone drinking?” he asked, clearly expecting a sophisticated answer. “perhaps an old variation of whisky?”

a stunned silence fell over the group, everyone staring at him in disbelief. you nervously laughed. “they only serve beer and soju here, vice chairman.” for a moment, you expected him to bristle at the lack of his preferred drink. instead, he stifled a sigh and nodded. “beer it is, then.”

as the evening progressed, you found yourself reminiscing. it had been nine years since you first joined kim enterprises, and you vividly remembered celebrating your first day in this very spot. you were drinking beer when a younger seokjin had approached you, his demeanor confident and slightly arrogant. “do you know who i am?” he'd asked, and you'd honestly had no clue. little did you know back then just how egotistical he was.

now, years later, you watched him attempt to navigate this ordinary setting. as the night wore on, you noticed the subtle signs of him getting tipsy. his cheeks flushed, his laughter louder and more uninhibited. eventually, you decided it was time to call it a night. “i think i should take him home,” you said, standing up.

your colleagues protested, but you promised to make it up to them. they relented, and you guided a slightly unsteady seokjin to his car. the drive to his house was quiet, his head leaning back against the seat, eyes half-closed.

when you arrived, you helped him inside, supporting his weight as you guided him to his bedroom. you gently eased him onto the bed, intending to leave as soon as he was settled. but just as you were about to turn away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you down onto the bed. you fell on top of him, your faces inches apart. his eyes, though slightly glazed, held a seriousness that made your heart race. “pretty ordinary of me to get drunk off beer, right?” he slurred, a lazy smile on his lips. your breath caught in your throat. “yes, very ordinary.”

“thank you, secretary (l/n),” he mumbled, his eyes closing. he fell asleep almost instantly, his grip on your wrist loosening. you stayed there for a moment, your heart pounding, before carefully tucking him in. you watched him for a few seconds longer, your emotions a whirlwind. finally, you tore yourself away, quietly leaving his house and heading home, your mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings you couldn't quite name.

the following morning, you arrived at the office early, keen to begin the handover process with keulgi. the usual hustle and bustle of the workplace greeted you, but today there was an undercurrent of anticipation and anxiety. it was the beginning of your final month at kim enterprises, and you wanted to ensure everything transitioned smoothly.

as you were explaining the intricacies of the office dynamics to keulgi, seokjin entered, looking visibly worse for wear. he massaged his temples, clearly nursing a headache from the previous night. you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. you followed him into his office, where he promptly sank into his chair, wincing slightly.

“good morning, vice chairman,” you greeted, trying to keep your tone professional despite your concern. “morning,” he muttered, barely looking up.

despite your concern, you exited the office, re-joining keulgi in order to show her around. “so, these are the folders you'll need to keep track of—client files, project updates, and financial reports. everything is color-coded for easy access. emails are prioritized into high, medium, and low urgency. make sure to flag anything that needs immediate attention.”

she nodded, absorbing the information. “got it. and what about his schedule?” you handed her a tablet with his meticulously planned itinerary. “his schedule is very tight. make sure to coordinate with all department heads and external partners. he's very particular about his meetings being on time.”

as you continued the walkthrough, keulgi mentioned, “oh, by the way, i noticed one of the legs on his chair was falling apart, so i put it together with some cables.” your eyes widened in shock, “what kind of cables?”

“rubber cables,” she replied, confusion etched on her face at your reaction. your heart sank. without another word, you rushed into seokjin's office, your pulse racing. the sight that greeted you confirmed your worst fears. he was on the floor, shaking, his head in his hands, his entire demeanor shattered.

“vice chairman!” you cried out, rushing to his side. “i'm so sorry, she didn't know—” he didn't respond, his breathing erratic. you quickly reached for the chair and cut off the rubber cables. the moment they were gone, his shaking subsided, though his face remained pale and his expression haunted. keulgi, realizing the gravity of the situation, joined in the apologies, her voice frantic. ”i'm so sorry, vice chairman. i didn't know—“

seokjin's gaze was ice cold as he finally looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and something you couldn't quite place. “is this how you're carrying out your duties, secretary (l/n)?” you stood there, stunned and silent. the warmth and camaraderie of the previous night seemed like a distant memory. his words cut through you like a knife, and for the first time, you had no response.

seokjin struggled to his feet, regaining his composure with great effort. “leave,” he commanded quietly, the tension in his voice unmistakable. you and keulgi hurried out of the office, the weight of the incident heavy on your shoulders. outside, you tried to reassure her, but the shock of your boss's reaction lingered.

inside his office, he sat down once again, burying his face in his hands. he mentally cursed himself for his harsh words. his eyes fell on the rubber cables now discarded in the trash can, and a shudder ran through him. memories he'd fought to bury resurfaced, and he struggled to push them back down. the trauma, long kept at bay, clawed its way to the surface. he knew he had overreacted, and he hated himself for it. he had to apologize to you, but the thought of facing you after what had just happened seemed insurmountable. how could he explain the depth of his fear, the reason for his reaction? for now, he could only sit there, the remnants of his vulnerability on display, hoping he hadn't irrevocably damaged the fragile relationship he had with you.

he sat behind his expansive mahogany desk, its polished surface reflecting the ambient light filtering through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. the cityscape of seoul lay sprawled out behind him, but his attention was far from the view. instead, his eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at the stack of documents in front of him. his mind was elsewhere, fixated on the conversation he'd had with his intern just days ago.

jungkook, seated opposite to him with his laptop open, was discussing the final preparations for the launch of their new art gallery. the young intern's enthusiasm was palpable, his voice animated as he detailed the latest developments, the artists who had confirmed their participation, and the final touches needed for the grand opening. but despite his energetic briefing, seokjin's mind kept wandering back to a single, pivotal point in their earlier exchange.

“you can't just propose out of the blue,” jungkook had laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “you need to take it slow. ask her out on a date first.”

seokjin's usually sharp mind was dulled by the weight of those words. proposing had seemed like a logical solution to him. a clear, decisive action to keep you from leaving. but now, in the wake of jungkook's advice, he realized how absurd it must have seemed. how uncharacteristically rash and desperate. the thought of asking you out on a date, a simple date, felt strangely daunting.

“vice chairman? are you listening?” jungkook's voice cut through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. he blinked, forcing his attention back to his intern. “yes, jungkook. i'm listening. the gallery—” he trailed off, struggling to find the thread of their conversation.

he raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “the gallery launch is on track. but you don't seem very interested today. is something on your mind?” he sighed in response, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. he prided himself on his composed and unflappable demeanor, but today, he felt anything but. “it's nothing. just some personal matters, as some would say.” he couldn't bare to focus on the project at hand. no, in fact, he was ready to execute a project of his own.

the soft hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery filled the air as you and your friends settled into a cozy corner booth at a chic restaurant. the atmosphere was relaxed, with warm lighting and comfortable seating that made it perfect for a catch-up lunch. your girlfriends were animated and full of news, and you found yourself caught between genuine happiness for them and a pang of wistful longing.

one of your friends, jiho, was regaling the table with stories about her recent wedding. her eyes sparkled with joy as she described the ceremony, the heartfelt vows, and the beautiful reception. you smiled and applauded her enthusiasm, but inside, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. the idea of finding such happiness seemed elusive, and your heart ached slightly at the thought.

“you're going to love being married,” jiho said, her voice full of contentment. "it’s just wonderful." you nodded, offering a supportive smile. “i'm so happy for you, jiho. it sounds like it was a perfect day.”

as she continued sharing details, your other friend, minji, leaned in, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “speaking of perfect days,” she began, “i have something to tell you. my husband’s friend saw your profile on social media and, well, he’s been asking about you.”

your heart skipped a beat. minji's husband had been a close friend of yours for years, but you had no idea who the friend in question was. the idea of someone from his circle showing interest was both flattering and daunting. “what’s he like?” you asked cautiously. minji grinned. “he’s a nice guy, charming and successful. i think you’d get along. how about we set up a blind date?”

you hesitated. the idea of a blind date was daunting, but the prospect of meeting someone new, especially someone vetted by friends, was appealing. you glanced at your friends' eager faces and took a deep breath. “okay, i’ll do it.” minji clapped her hands excitedly. “great! i'll set it up and let you know the details.”

just as the conversation shifted to wedding anecdotes and dating possibilities, a cheerful waitress approached your table with a friendly smile. “excuse me, ladies,” she said. “we’re conducting a survey to improve our service and, in exchange, we’d like to offer you a free appetizer. would you be interested?” your friends, always up for a little extra perk, agreed enthusiastically, and you followed suit. the waitress handed over a clipboard with a short survey and left to fetch the appetizer.

thu looked over the questions with mild curiosity. the first asked, “ideal date spot with your significant other?” the second, “ideal activities with significant other?” and the last, “ideal gift given by significant other?” you answered thoughtfully, trying to balance your idealistic dreams with the reality of your current situation. as you finished filling out the survey and handed it back to the waitress, you felt a slight nagging sense of familiarity with the tone of the questions. they seemed familiarly bosay and demanding, almost like they were trying to gauge your relationship ideals with a hint of urgency. but you brushed off the feeling, focusing instead on the excitement of the impending blind date and the lively conversation with your friends.

in the dimly lit rec room of seokjin's luxurious house, the soft clack of pool balls punctuated the otherwise quiet evening. jungkook lounged on the leather sofa, his gaze fixed on him, who was confidently taking shots at the pool table with practiced ease. the game seemed to serve as a backdrop for their conversation, but jungkook's attention was focused on the stack of papers spread out on the coffee table.

“you did what?” his voice was a mix of incredulity and disbelief as he stared at the surveys before him. the questions and answers were neatly recorded on the forms, and jungkook couldn't believe what he was seeing. seokjin, with a proud smirk, took another shot, his movements graceful and deliberate. “i paid the restaurant to hand out those surveys,” he said, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “i wanted to see what kind of answer i'd get. and now, i need you to find the one with her name on it.”

jungkook’s eyebrows shot up in shock. “you’re seriously crazy, this is way over the top.” ignoring the incredulous glares from his elder, he picked up the stack of surveys and began sifting through them. his hands moved quickly, flipping through each paper as he muttered under his breath. “this is insane. what are you trying to accomplish?”

seokjin, meanwhile, remained focused on his game, the smirk never leaving his face. his confidence was unwavering, but jungkook could sense a trace of anxious anticipation beneath the surface. after what felt like an eternity to him, he finally spotted the survey with your name. he held it up, slightly hesitant. “here it is. this is the one.”

his eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and triumph. he rushed over, snatching the paper from his hands with a deft movement. his gaze was fixed on the survey, and as he read through your answers, his smirk broadened into a genuine, if somewhat smug, smile.

“how childish,” he remarked aloud, his voice laced with a blend of amusement and satisfaction. he began reading your responses aloud with a playful tone. “ideal date spot: an amusement park. ideal activities: rides, very charming. ideal gift: a teddy bear.” jungkook watched, his initial skepticism replaced by bemused curiosity. “seriously? you’re actually taking this seriously?” he had never been more serious.

the call came just after you wrapped up your brief lunch with your friends, the sound of seokjin’s voice crackling through the speaker, urgent and commanding. “you need to meet me immediately,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. he gave you the coordinates, and you found yourself driving across town with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. arriving at the amusement park, you were surprised to see it eerily quiet and closed for the night. you sat on a bench near the entrance, trying to piece together what he could have possibly wanted in such an unconventional setting. the minutes ticked by slowly until seokjin finally appeared, stepping out of the darkness with his usual confident stride.

“what’s going on?” you asked, rising from the bench to meet him. “why did you bring me here?” his eyes twinkled with a secretive glint. “we’re going to be here for the night. i have a ‘free pass,’ so to speak.”

you blinked, puzzled. “a free pass? but the park is closed.” seokjin simply smiled, taking your hand and leading you towards the entrance. “just follow me.”

as you walked through the empty park, the moonlight casting long shadows across the deserted grounds, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. he guided you to one of the rollercoasters, and despite your protests, he insisted on riding it first. the rollercoaster roared to life, and as you climbed higher and higher, your heart raced with a blend of thrill and terror. when the ride finally came to a stop, you were visibly shaken, your hands still gripping the safety bar as if it were your lifeline.

he turned to you, his face stoic but his eyes searching. “did you have fun?” you hesitated, your voice trembling. “it was fun, i guess.”

he raised an eyebrow, sensing your unease. “why do you seem so hesitant?” you sighed, feeling a bit embarrassed. “it was too scary. i wasn’t expecting it to be so intense.” he looked at you with a mixture of concern and amusement. “then why did you go on it?”

“because you asked me to,” you admitted. a smile curved his lips, and he quickly shifted gears. “alright then, let’s go on rides you want to enjoy.” your face lit up with relief and excitement. you led him towards the merry-go-round, and as the ride spun in gentle circles, you felt a wave of childhood nostalgia. you waved enthusiastically, feeling the pure joy of the moment. he watched you, his gaze softening as he took in your happiness.

the merry-go-round went around seven times, and as you disembarked, you couldn’t stop smiling. seokjin then guided you into the park’s restaurant. to your surprise, the place was completely empty.

“what’s all of this?” you asked, glancing around in awe. he shrugged casually. “i rented everything out for the night. consider it a going-away present.”

your heart fluttered at his gesture. “thank you, vice chairman.” he smiled, slicing a steak and placing it in front of you. as you dug into the meal, he glanced at you with genuine interest. “why did you enjoy the merry-go-round so much?”

you hesitated, then opened up. “it was one of my favorite rides as a child. i used to watch it from afar, because my parents never had the money to let me actually ride it.” hiw expression softened, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “i'm sorry to hear that.”

the meal continued in a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional clinking of cutlery. after you finished, hw told you there was one more surprise. “just be patient,” he said with a hint of mischief in his eyes. curious, you followed him outside to a spot overlooking the sea. As you waited, the crackling sound of fireworks filled the air, bursting into vibrant colors against the night sky. your eyes widened with delight as you watched the display.

“isn’t it pretty?” you asked, turning to seokjin. his gaze was fixed on you, not the fireworks. “beautiful,” he replied, his voice low and sincere.

the car ride back was filled with a charged silence. as you stared out the window, a memory of the survey and its bossy tone flashed in your mind. you turned to Seokjin, your eyes wide with realization. he looked at you with a smug smile, clearly enjoying the surprise. before you could ask more, the car pulled up to your home. he exited and opened your door, handing you a large, stuffed teddy bear from the trunk. you were overwhelmed with gratitude and, in a moment of pure joy, you hugged your boss tightly.

to your astonishment, he hugged you back, his embrace warm and reassuring. as you pulled away, both of you were so close. too close for comfort. you knew better, stopping yourself as you glanced at the time. “it’s getting late,” you said softly. he nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. “good night. i'll see you in the morning.”

the morning sun streamed through your bedroom window, casting a gentle glow over the room as you prepared for another day at work. you had almost forgotten about the stuffed teddy bear seokjin had gifted you the night before. as you reached for it, something shifted inside its pocket. curiosity piqued, you reached in and pulled out a small, elegant box.

opening it carefully, you found a delicate silver necklace inside. the intricate design and glint of the metal took your breath away. you were momentarily stunned, not expecting such a thoughtful gift. after a moment of hesitation, you decided to keep the necklace. you slipped it into your pocket, planning to wear it later.

at the office, you settled at your desk, the necklace still weighing on your mind. as you worked, you fished it out of your pocket and admired it, the silver catching the light. unbeknownst to you, he was watching from his office across the hall. his gaze softened as he observed you, a small, admiring smile on his lips. the sight of you, glowing with a mix of wonder and appreciation, made him think how gorgeous you were.

you finished adjusting the necklace around your neck, and as you headed to the bathroom, your phone rang. it was minji, her voice excited and insistent. “hey, i was just wondering if you’re still up for that blind date with my friend today? i know it’s short notice, but he’s really looking forward to it!”

it took a moment for the reminder to hit you. the blind date slipped your mind amidst the whirlwind of yesterday’s events. you agreed, albeit with some reluctance. “sure, i’ll meet him. just let me know the details.” as you entered the bathroom, keulgi emerged from a stall behind you, startling you. she had apparently overheard your conversation.

“are you going on a date?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise and curiosity. caught off guard, you nodded, glancing around to make sure no one else was within earshot. “yes, but please keep it quiet.” keulgi, ever enthusiastic, promised to keep it to herself. however, her enthusiasm got the better of her. as soon as you left the bathroom, she couldn't resist sharing the news with the rest of the office.

when you returned to your desk, the atmosphere in the office had noticeably shifted. colleagues whispered excitedly and shot you curious glances. the office buzzed with the news of your impending date. seokjin, who had been outside his office listening to the commotion, seethed with jealousy. his earlier soft smile had vanished, replaced by a scowl that betrayed his irritation. he paced back and forth, trying to control his frustration.

the excitement and chatter from your colleagues did nothing to ease his anger. his mind raced with thoughts of the date and the implications of your newfound interest. he couldn’t shake the feeling of possessiveness that gnawed at him, and the thought of someone else taking you out only fueled his frustration. the more he listened to the enthusiastic reactions of his staff, the more he felt his grip on his emotions slipping. he knew he needed to act, but he was caught between his pride and the undeniable feelings he had been trying to cast away.

the date began at a quaint, upscale café, where you met your blind date, taehyun. he greeted you with a polite smile and an amiable demeanor. as you made small talk, discussing interests and hobbies, taehyun seemed genuinely pleasant, though his compliments caught you off guard. “you look absolutely gorgeous tonight,” he said with a warm smile.

you blushed slightly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and surprise. “thank you,” you replied, attempting to refocus the conversation. as you chatted, you noticed that his tie was hanging loose and uneven. it irked you more than you expected, and you reached over to fix it, hoping to tidy up his appearance. he watched with a smile as you deftly adjusted the tie, clearly appreciative of the attention to detail.

just as you were about to continue the conversation, a loud, urgent yell interrupted the moment. “secretary (l/n)!”

you and taehyun both turned to see seokjin striding toward your table, his expression stormy and his eyes locked onto you with barely concealed anger. your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. “vice chairman?” you asked, confusion mingling with concern. “what’s going on?”

he stopped in front of your table, his demeanor tense. “i need to see you urgently,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering. you glanced at taehyun, apologetic. “i’m so sorry, it seems to be an emergency.”

you followed him outside, where he led you to his waiting car. the drive began in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. the car came to a sudden stop in the middle of the road, and you turned to seokjin, your anxiety growing. “what’s the matter?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the unease you felt.

his gaze was cold, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a stern, almost menacing composure. “never do that again,” he said, his voice carrying a tone of finality.

you frowned, confusion clouding your expression. “what do you mean? what did i do?” his eyes locked onto yours with intensity. “never let me see you with another man like that again.”

you didn’t respond immediately, and his jaw clenched as he seemed to wrestle with his emotions. finally, he added, “i don’t want to see you with anyone else. it’s not something i'm willing to accept.” the confession left you stunned. you stared at him, a mixture of surprise and realization dawning on you. the implications of his words were clear, and the protectiveness in his tone was undeniable. the car ride continued in silence, with the weight of his words lingering between you.

back at home, you went through your evening routine, attending to various tasks around the house. the day's events had left you both physically and emotionally drained. you found solace in a small ritual that had been a comforting presence throughout your life—your diary. sitting down at your desk, you pulled out the well-worn book, its pages filled with a mixture of memories, dreams, and sketches. as you flipped through the pages, you came across a series of drawings. they depicted a younger you and a boy, playing and laughing together. the accompanying writing read, ��i miss you, brother.” the words tugged at your heart, and you felt a pang of sadness.

the drawings were a testament to a bond that had once been a central part of your life. as you closed the diary and set it aside, you felt the ache of missing something—or someone—important. the day’s events had stirred up memories you weren’t quite ready to confront.

later that night, as you drifted off to sleep, the familiar haze of dreams enveloped you. in your dream, you found yourself in a dimly lit basement, a place filled with shadows and echoes of the past. the little boy from your diary appeared, standing before you with a stern expression. you felt tears streaming down your cheeks, overwhelmed by a mixture of regret and longing. the boy began to scold you, his voice echoing with an authority that seemed to pierce through your sorrow. despite the scolding, you felt a deep sense of gratitude.

“thank you, kim soo—seo—” you started, trying to recall his name. but before you could finish, the boy cut you off with a tsk. “no, stupid. my name is kim seo—” the name was just on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t quite grasp it. the dream began to fade, and you woke up with a start, heart racing and breath uneven.

sitting up in bed, you felt the weight of the dream pressing on you. the name “kim seo” lingered in your mind, but it was elusive, slipping away before you could fully remember. the dream had left you with a deep sense of loss and confusion, and you were left grappling with the fragments of a memory that seemed to evade your grasp. as you lay back down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something significant you were missing, a connection that was just out of reach. the memory of the dream and the name echoed in your thoughts, haunting you as you tried to find solace in sleep once more.

seokjin arrived at work the following day with a heavy air of exhaustion surrounding him. he trudged through the office, his usual confident stride replaced by a sluggish, disoriented gait. as the morning wore on, it became increasingly clear that he was struggling to stay awake. his head bobbed with fatigue as he sat at his desk, his eyes slipping shut despite his efforts to remain alert.

concerned, you approached his desk, gently shaking his shoulder. “vice chairman, are you alright?” when there was no response, you shook him harder, your worry mounting. his body felt unnervingly heavy, and it became clear that he was deeply asleep, his breathing uneven. panic surged through you as you realized the severity of the situation. without hesitation, you grabbed your phone and dialed for emergency services.

the paramedics arrived swiftly, their professional demeanor a small comfort amidst the chaos. you watched anxiously as they wheeled him into the ambulance. your heart pounded in your chest, and despite knowing it was likely nothing serious, you refused to leave his side.

in the hospital, as the medics prepared him for further examination, they reassured you that his condition wasn’t critical. “he’s just exhausted,” one of the paramedics said. “it’s likely just severe fatigue. you can go in once we’re done.” when you were finally allowed in, he was still asleep, his face pale and drawn. you took a seat next to him, trying to steady your breathing as you buried your face in your hands. the sight of him, knocked out cold, was deeply unsettling. It reminded you of something from your past—something too familiar.

as you stared at him, your thoughts drifted back to the boy from the basement. the way he was unconscious on the floor when the lady had taken you—the same position, the same labored breathing, the same pale complexion. the memories came rushing back, painful and vivid. the name “kim seo” echoed in your mind, but it didn’t quite fit. then you remembered the boy’s full name, “kim seohyeon.” the realization came with a jolt. “kim seohyeon,” you whispered to yourself, the name feeling strangely natural as it rolled off your tongue.

your relief was fleeting, however, as a chilling thought struck you. seokjin’s mother had asked you not even a couple days ago, “what do you think about my hyeon?” it wasn’t just a fragment of a bad memory—it was a piece of a puzzle falling into place. hesitantly, you turned your gaze back to him, who remained motionless. your heart raced as you said, “kim seohyeon.” your voice was shaky, trembling with the weight of the revelation.

for a moment, the room was silent, and you felt a brief sense of relief as though your words had broken the tension. but then, he stirred, his eyes fluttering open. his gaze was bleary, and he blinked at you in confusion. “what is it?” your heart sank as you saw his groggy, disoriented expression. the name you had just spoken had clearly registered with him, but his response was laced with irritation and confusion. you were left grappling with the enormity of the realization that seokjin—kim seohyeon—was more deeply connected to your past than you had ever imagined.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions surging within you. “kim seohyeon,” you repeated, your voice trembling as you looked at seokjin. his eyes, which had been closed in exhaustion, flew open at the sound of his name. the shock and recognition dawned on his face as he fully grasped the situation. “it was you,” you said, your voice laden with disbelief.

your heart pounded as you pieced together the fragmented memories that had haunted you for so long. “i remember now,” you began, your voice quivering. “there was a boy—you were in the basement with me.” his expression shifted from confusion to horror as the realization sank in. “the dreams i’ve been having,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “a black-haired woman, a basement—i’ve been dreaming about it for weeks.”

the pieces began to fall into place for you. “the boy i kept searching for, the one i couldn’t remember clearly—it was you. we were together in that basement. i’ve been trying to find you all this time, but i didn’t know it was you.” the enormity of the realization hit you like a tidal wave, and you began to sob uncontrollably. you had spent your entire life searching for the boy from the basement, the boy whose memory had haunted you for years. to discover that he was right under your nose all along, that seokjin was the one you had been seeking—it was overwhelming.

the flood of emotions surged through you, and the connections you had been struggling to piece together suddenly fell into place. the cables, the fear, the strange sense of familiarity—all of it made sense now. the sobs wracked your body, and you felt a deep, raw anguish as you realized how close you had come to losing him without ever knowing.

his gaze softened as he watched your breakdown. his usual composure and egotism crumbled in the face of your distress. weakly, he reached out to you, his hand trembling slightly. “it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice filled with a tender concern that was rare for him. “i’m here.” you hesitated for a moment, but then, seeking solace, you moved into his embrace. his arms wrapped around you, providing a comfort that felt both foreign and deeply familiar. you continued to cry, each sob a release of the pent-up fear and sorrow that had built up over the years. he held you close, his own breath shaky as he struggled to process the gravity of the situation. he stroked your hair gently, his touch soothing and steadying. the warmth of his embrace provided a sense of security that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

as your sobs began to subside, he pulled back slightly, tilting your chin so that you looked up at him. his eyes were filled with a mix of empathy and resolve. “you found me,” he said softly, his voice trembling with the weight of the moment. his words, though simple, carried a profound meaning. the realization that you had finally found him, the person you had been searching for, was both a relief and a heartbreak. in that moment, the intensity of your emotions reached a peak, and he leaned in, closing the gap between you.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was gentle at first, but quickly grew more passionate. it was a kiss that spoke of the pain, the longing, and the deep connection that had been forged through shared battles. you responded, kissing him back with equal fervor, allowing the years of separation and anguish to dissolve in the intensity of the moment. when the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back slightly, breathless and awestruck. the weight of the past had been acknowledged, and the connection between you was solidified in a way that was both profound and healing.

he looked into your eyes, his expression a mix of vulnerability and resolve. “we'll be okay,” he said softly, his voice filled with a newfound determination. you nodded, feeling a deep sense of relief and hope.

the weeks following the revelation passed in a strange, uncomfortable silence. despite the deep bond you and seokjin now shared, an unspoken tension lingered in the office. the connection between you had shifted, but neither of you quite knew how to bridge the gap between your past traumas and your present reality.

he had revealed to you the reason behind his name change to seokjin. his parents had insisted on the new identity as a protective measure, believing that if seohyeon no longer existed, the woman who had once terrorized him would never be able to find him. this revelation, while reassuring, had also created a chasm between you two that was hard to navigate.

one afternoon, as the silence in the office grew increasingly heavy, he called you into his office. his demeanor was serious as he gestured for you to take a seat. you entered, your heart racing slightly, unsure of what to expect. “thank you for coming,” he began, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of something you couldn’t quite place. “i need you to do something for me.” you straightened in your chair, adopting a professional tone. “what is it?”

seokjin looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. “i need you to be my girlfriend.” the words hung in the air between you, and you were momentarily stunned into silence. “what?” you managed to ask, your voice betraying your shock.

his gaze softened as he continued, his expression vulnerable. “i’ve been thinking a lot about us. after everything we’ve been through, i realized how much i care about you. i need you in my life, not just as my secretary, but as my girlfriend.”

his confession touched you deeply, and you felt a swell of emotion rise within you. “vice chairman” you began, struggling to find the right words. “i didn’t expect this.”

he nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “i know. it’s sudden, and i understand if you need time. but i wanted to be honest with you about how i feel.” the sincerity in his voice, combined with the gravity of his words, made your heart ache with a mix of relief and hope. you were touched by his honesty and the way he had finally allowed himself to be vulnerable with you.

he then leaned forward slightly, his expression shifting to something more earnest. “there’s one more thing,” he said, his voice lowering. “i need you to kiss me.”

your eyes widened at his request. the gravity of the moment, coupled with your feelings for him, made your pulse race. you nodded slowly, feeling a surge of emotions—affection, longing, and a deep connection. you stood up and walked over to him, your heart pounding in your chest. his gaze followed you, his expression a mixture of anticipation and tenderness. as you reached him, you leaned in, closing the distance between you.

the kiss was tender, filled with the emotions you both had been holding back. It was a sweet, unspoken promise of a new beginning. he responded gently, his hands resting on your back as he deepened the kiss. when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your faces flushed with the intensity of the moment. he looked at you with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting the vulnerability and affection that had been building between you.

his voice was soft and teasing as he traced his fingers gently along your back. “this means you’ll be my girlfriend, doesn’t it?” the playful tone in his voice, combined with the tender touch, made you smile despite the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling. you nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and affection. “yes, it does.”

his eyes lit up with a genuine smile, his teasing demeanor giving way to something more heartfelt. “i’m glad to hear that. i’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time, but i didn’t know how.” you laughed softly, shaking your head. “you didn’t need to wait so long. i think we both knew how we felt about each other.”

his smile widened as he pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms encircling you with a sense of relief and contentment. “i guess it’s true,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “sometimes, the things you’re looking for are right in front of you.” they really were, as it seemed.

the next few days at work were marked by an underlying tension that neither of you could quite shake off. seokjin was noticeably less cold and demanding, a stark contrast to his previous demeanor. the change was subtle but significant. he found himself taking more interest in your presence, often waving at you from across the office with a grin that was almost boyish. each time you waved back, his smile would widen, and a look of genuine joy would light up his face.

the change didn’t go unnoticed by your colleagues, who observed the shift in seokjin’s behavior with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. however, no one dared to comment, respecting the unspoken agreement that something had clearly shifted in the office dynamics.

as the days passed, his new feelings for you started to manifest in ways he hadn’t anticipated. while he relished the sweetness of your new relationship, he found himself increasingly aware of the more physical aspects of your presence. he couldn’t ignore how his pulse quickened when he noticed the way your tight skirts accentuated your figure, or how the sight of your bare legs and hair pulled back made him sweat in the middle of meetings.

he tried to maintain his composure, but the intensity of his feelings became difficult to manage. his attempts to focus on work were often disrupted by thoughts of you, and he struggled to keep his desires in check.

one afternoon, unable to ignore his escalating emotions any longer, he called you into his office. his voice, usually commanding, now carried a hint of nervousness. “can you come in here for a moment?” you nodded, entering his office with a sense of anticipation. seokjin closed the door behind you and gestured for you to lock it. his eyes were intense as he watched you comply. he then moved to pull down the blinds, casting the room into a more private, dimly lit atmosphere.

“what’s going on?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern as you approached him. he looked at you with a mixture of longing and hesitation, his gaze fixed on yours. “i need you to understand something,” he said softly. “it’s not just about what we’ve been through, or about being together. i—”

he paused, taking a deep breath as he reached out to pull you closer. the seriousness in his eyes gave way to a softer, more vulnerable expression. “i need you to know how much i care about you. and right now, i can’t help but feel…”

before he could finish, he leaned in and kissed you. the kiss was different from before—less tender, more urgent and needy. it was filled with the intensity of emotions that had been building up inside him. you responded to the kiss, your own feelings mirroring his. the kiss deepened, and the world outside the office seemed to fade away as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

it was a kiss that spoke of months of unspoken yearning, a kiss that shattered the professional façade you had both so carefully maintained. his hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer. his other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your mouth as you kissed him deeper. his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting, exploring. you gasped, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

that was it. the moment you had both been waiting for, the moment that would change everything. you could feel the tension in the room, a tight coil winding tighter with every passing second. the sound of a zipper echoed through the room as seokjin stood, lifting you onto his desk. your legs wrapped around his waist, and you could feel his erection pressing against you, hot and insistent. your breath hitched as he kissed along your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

he stepped back for a moment, looking into your eyes, searching for permission. you nodded, unable to form words, and he took that as his cue. his hands found the buttons of your blouse, deftly undoing them one by one. your bra was next, revealing your tits to his hungry gaze. He took one in his hand, squeezing gently, and your moan filled the room.

he leaned in, taking your nipple into his mouth. you arched your back, the sensation shooting straight to your core. he sucked, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, and your hips rolled against him. he groaned, his grip on your hip tightening. the anticipation was palpable as he reached for his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. you could see the need in them, the same need that was building within you. as he stepped closer, you felt his hardness pressing against your thigh, and you knew there was no turning back.

he whispered something in your ear, something filthy and thrilling, and you could feel your cheeks flush with arousal. his hands found the zipper of your skirt, sliding it down with a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet office. your skin prickled with excitement as the fabric fell away, revealing your lacy underwear. his hand slid under the fabric, his fingers finding your wetness. he groaned again, his breath hot against your neck. “you're so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

you nodded, your eyes closing as he began to stroke you, his touch tentative at first, then growing bolder as your moans grew louder. your body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. you knew you were his, and he was yours, in this every stolen moment of passion.

with a final tug, his hand found your bare skin, and you gasped as he touched you, his fingers exploring your folds with an urgency that mirrored your own. you could feel your core tightening around his touch, desperate for more. he pulled back slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched your reaction. “you like that, don't you?” he asked, his voice a low growl. you nodded, your eyes glazed over with desire. he leaned in, capturing your mouth again in a bruising kiss as his thumb began to circle your clit. the sensation was overwhelming, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. you didn't know if you could hold on much longer.

suddenly, he stopped, his hand moving away from your panties. you whimpered in protest, but he just chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down your spine. “patience,” he murmured, “we're just getting started.”

with surprising strength, he flipped you over, so that you were now lying face down on his desk, your ass in the air. he stepped back, and you could feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of your exposed body. you felt a thrill of exhibitionism, knowing that he was seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

he leaned over you, his breath hot on your ear. "you're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with lust. his hand came down in a firm smack on your ass, and you yelped in surprise. the sting was quickly replaced by a warmth that spread through your body, making you wetter than ever.

he smacked you again, harder this time, and you moaned. the sound seemed to spur him on, and his hand began to move in a steady rhythm, alternating between gentle caresses and firm slaps. you felt yourself getting wetter with every hit, your body begging for more. “do you like that, baby?” he asked, his voice strained with his own need. “yes,” you managed to gasp out, your voice shaky. “more.”

he complied, his hand coming down harder and faster, each smack echoing through the room. you could feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling with the effort of holding back. and then, with one final, brutal slap, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you like a storm. he leaned down, his breathing ragged, and kissed the back of your neck. “you're mine,” he murmured, his voice possessive. “mine to claim.”

and with that, he reached for his own pants, his hands shaking with desire. he freed himself, and you could feel the tip of his cock brushing against your wetness. without another word, he pushed inside you, filling you up in one swift, agonizingly sweet motion. you yelled, the pleasure overwhelming as he claimed your virginity, your body stretching to accommodate his size.

he didn't stop there, though. he began to move, his hips pistoning into you with a relentless rhythm that had you seeing stars. you could feel every inch of him, and it was more than you had ever imagined. each thrust was a declaration of ownership, each moan a promise of more to come. you pushed back against him, meeting him halfway, your body moving in perfect sync with his. you were lost in the sensation, the pain and pleasure melding into something indescribable. your hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, as you held on for dear life.

“fuck, you're tight,” he grunted, his voice strained. “so tight.” your response was a whimper, your throat too tight to form words. all you could do was moan and arch your back, taking him deeper, letting him fill you completely. the room spun around you as he picked up the pace, his hands digging into your hips as he drove into you. you could feel his climax building, his breaths coming in harsh pants against your neck. and then, with a final, guttural groan, he came, his warmth flooding into you.

you collapsed onto the desk, your body spent, as he pulled out and leaned over you, his chest heaving. he kissed your shoulder, his breathing slowly returning to normal. the room was silent, save for the sound of your ragged breaths.

for a moment, you both just stayed there, basking in the afterglow of what had just happened. but reality began to seep back in, and you felt a sudden rush of self-consciousness. you were his secretary, and you had just had unprotected sex on his desk. the implications of your actions were just beginning to hit you.

seokjin must have noticed the change in your demeanor because he leaned in, whispering in your ear, “don't worry, i've got you.” his words were soothing, but they didn't entirely ease the anxiety coiling in your stomach. he helped you sit up, and you both began to straighten your clothes, trying to erase the evidence of your passionate encounter. your heart was racing, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him, seeing him in a new light. “we can't do this again,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “what if someone finds out?”

he turned to face you, cupping your cheek. “they won't,” he assured you. “this is our secret.” his eyes searched yours, and you could see the determination in them. “but if they do,” he trailed off, a smug smile playing on his lips. “well, then they'll just have to deal with it. you're my girlfriend, after all.”

you couldn't help but smile back, his confidence infectious. but deep down, you knew that this was just the beginning. the line between professional and personal had been irrevocably crossed, and there was no going back.

✧.*

a/n: literally no one asked for this idc this is so funny to me i based the name off one drama and the plot off another goodbye

233 notes · View notes

mahamid110 · 4 months ago

Text

🤖 AI Influencer 24/7 Review: Launch Your Own Virtual Superstar That Sells, Engages & Grows Your Brand — All On Autopilot! 💸🌍📲

What if you could launch a fully-branded AI influencer that creates content, talks to your audience, and promotes your offers — on every platform, in any language, with zero effort on your part?

Well, now you can.

Introducing the AI Influencer 24/7 System — a powerful, one-click solution that lets you build and deploy your very own digital influencer that works around the clock, creating viral posts, talking like a human, and even selling products for you.

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

🛠️ Key Features:

✅ One-Click AI Influencer Deployment 🧠 Launch your influencer in minutes — with custom branding, niche focus, and voice options.

✅ Omni-Platform Content Posting 📱 Your AI influencer will automatically create and post content to TikTok, YouTube Shorts, Reels, Twitter, and more.

✅ Real-Time Audience Engagement 💬 AI-powered chat interaction mimics real conversations, helping you engage, build trust, and convert followers.

✅ Multilingual Support 🌐 Reach a global audience by creating and responding in any language — automatically.

✅ Daily Content Creation & Promotion 🗓️ Your influencer will generate daily content AND promote affiliate offers, services, or your own products.

✅ Fully Branded with Your Voice or Persona 🧑🎤 Customize look, tone, and messaging to match your brand — or create a whole new personality.

✅ No Video/Design/Marketing Skills Needed 🙌 Perfect for beginners. All the tech and creative work is handled for you.

✅ Agency Mode 💼 Create and manage multiple AI influencers for clients — a done-for-you social media service without hiring talent.

💸 Real Results:

Users are seeing $200–$300+/day from affiliate sales, product promos, and client packages — all powered by their AI influencers doing the heavy lifting 24/7.

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

✅ Pros:

100% beginner-friendly

Works on autopilot, even while you sleep

No need to show your face or be on camera

Monetize in multiple niches (fitness, finance, fashion, crypto, etc.)

Agencies can charge monthly for influencer campaigns

Great for affiliate marketing, ecommerce, personal brands

❌ Cons:

Needs proper setup and niche targeting to perform best

Some platforms may require manual approval for bots

AI engagement, while good, might not always pass as human in complex conversations

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

💵 Pricing & OTOs (One-Time Offers):

Front-End App: $37 One-Time

OTO 1 – Pro Edition: $67 (Unlock advanced AI personalities & more content slots)

OTO 2 – Agency License: $97 (Manage for clients, add branding & team features)

OTO 3 – DFY Influencer Templates: $47 (Get plug-n-play niches ready to launch)

OTO 4 – Reseller Rights: $197 (Sell the software as your own)

🎁 Exclusive Bonuses (When You Grab It Today):

🎁 Viral Hooks & CTA Swipe File 🎁 100 Influencer Video Prompts for Any Niche 🎁 Step-by-Step AI Influencer Monetization Blueprint 🎁 Bonus Training: $1K/Week with AI Personal Brands

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

🎯 Who Is This For?

Affiliate marketers

Freelancers & agencies

Ecommerce store owners

Social media beginners

Coaches, consultants & solopreneurs

Anyone who wants influencer-style results without being on camera

🔥 Final Verdict:

This AI Influencer 24/7 System is a total game-changer. Whether you're camera-shy, time-strapped, or just looking to automate your content game, this tool delivers massive value. With zero tech hassle, full branding control, and monetization built in, it's like hiring a full-time content creator, marketer, and spokesperson — all in one.

If you want to sell more, grow faster, and do it all on autopilot... 👉 This is the tool to watch.

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

#marketing #affiliatemarketing #onlinemarketing #review #reviews #software #preview #digitalmarketing #usa #AIInfluencer #ContentAutomation #PassiveIncome #DigitalMarketing #OneClickSuccess

7 notes · View notes

enzaelectric · 5 months ago

Text

How to Choose the Best Low Voltage Switchgear for Your Project

Low voltage switch gears are significant to an industry, commercial or residential installation in ensuring the safe and effective power distribution. Selecting the right switchgear is key in making sure the system will be reliable, preventing electrical faults, and optimizing energy efficiency. Buying switchgear may appear challenging, given the number of options available in the market. The guide below will assist in grasping the vital aspects to consider in choosing low-voltage switchgear in 2025.

What is Low Voltage Switchgear?

Low voltage (LV) switchgear is an assembly of circuit breakers, disconnects, fuses, relays, and other protective equipment for controlling and protecting electric systems in voltages of up to 1,000V AC. It is commonly used in:

Industrial power distribution systems;

Commercial buildings;

Data centers;

Hospitals;

Renewable energy systems.

Choosing Low Voltage Switchgear: Important Considerations

1. Understand Your Project Requirements

Understanding your project requirements for assessing power distribution should include:

Voltage and current rating. This is for ensuring compatibility of load.

Type of application: For example, both industrial and commercial as well as residential and renewable sources.

The fault current rating: Ensure that it can withstand the maximum possible fault current.

Number of feeders and expansion requirements: Be sure to plan for possible future growth.

2. Safety and Compliance with Standards

As far as safety is concerned, the other critical consideration when selecting switchgear is to ensure that it has met the following:

IEC 61439 or ANSI/NEMA standards-Properly complying with international safety and performance standards.

Arc flash protection-Reduces the risk of being exposed to electrical hazards.

Short-circuit withstand capability-Makes sure switchgear withstands those high fault conditions.

3. Type of Switchgear Configuration

The correct configuration should be selected based on the size and complexity of the project:

Fixed Type Switchgear — Cost-wise, the cheapest and most suitable for small installations.

Withdrawable Type Switchgear — Provides ease of maintenance expected for an industrial facility.

Compartmentalized Switchgear — Offers improved safety and isolation of components.

4. Energy Efficiency and Sustainability

Modern switchgear are also designed to optimize energy usage and reduce losses. Look for: Low power loss components — More efficient. Eco-friendly insulation materials — Leverage the environment. Smart grid compatibility — Include renewables.

5. Smart Features and Digitalization-

Soon after Industry 4.0 and IoT, digital switchgear became a standard. Consider: Remote monitoring and diagnostics-The predictive maintenance help. Automated fault detection-Reduced downtime, and increased safety. Data logging and analytics-Optimizes power usage.

6. Brand Reputation and After-Sales Support

Choosing a reliable brand ensures long-term performance and support. Some of the top low voltage switchgear Suppliers are:

Al Mayar Electric Switchgear Ind LLC is the new milestone in the mastering of Mayar Holding in electrical technology. The company is committed to cater quality electrical and switchgear products in Middle East, Asia, Europe & Africa ensuring high standards and reliability

Enza Electric stands out as the best manufacturer of electrical switchgear in the GCC countries, providing top-notch products that lead the market and offer reliable electrical solutions.

Al Daleel Electrical Switch Gear Trading LLC is one of the leading Supplier and Distributor of Electrical Switchgear Products in GCC.

Civaux Electric proudly stands at the forefront of electrical manufacturing, delivering a diverse range of premium products, including Panel Fans & Filters, Panel Heaters, Cabinet LED Lamps, Regulators, and Indication Lamps & Switches.

Stefan Electric based in Germany, specializes in manufacturing and distributing a wide range of switchgear products such as Current Transformers, Analog and Digital Meters, Relay and Timer Meters, and Door Limit Switches across the UAE, including Dubai, Qatar, Oman, Bahrain, Sharjah, and Saudi Arabia.

Additionally, check for:

Spare parts availability, thereby facilitating easy maintenance and repair.

Local service centers for a quick troubleshooting and support.

Warranty and possible extended service offerings would enhance long-term value.

7. Budget and Cost Considerations

The performance-to-cost trade-off is thus an important consideration. One could consider comparing:

- Initial costs versus future savings: Although more energy-efficient switchgear might entail higher initial costs, the operational expenses are going to be much lesser.

- Customization options: Some brands are more conducive to modular designs to accommodate specific budgets.

- Installation and maintenance costs: Include considerations for servicing and availability of spare parts.

#switchgear #electrical #low voltage

7 notes · View notes

bravecrab · 1 year ago

Text

I was just listening to a podcast about the Peter Thiel backed Enhanced Games, a proposed alternative Olympics in which doping would not only be allowed but be the whole point. It's not an original idea, as long as doping has been in the conversation about the Olympics, there's always been people flippantly saying that they should just do something like the Enhanced Games, see how far we can push it. What's the harm?

There are plenty harms related in using cocktails of drugs to push the human body past it's natural limits, and there are plenty people who have made these comments in regards to the Enhanced Games. However a harm that I haven't seen mentioned yet, is the normalisation of pharmaceutical drug use and associating it with "peak physical performance". The Enhanced Games would be more than just an exhibition of sport, it would be a marketing platform for the pharmaceutical industry. Each athlete would have their own team to build them into the perfect athlete, more like Formula One, although who knows if the athletes will have to wear the brand logos on all their gear, so the audience know who sells the best steroids.

Let's not beat around the bush, an event that focuses on finely tuning the human body into a "perfect" form, is eugenics. The proponents of the Enhanced Games will deny it, but they want it to be successful and influential. They want it to be more successful than the Olympics. And that will require a normalisation of Eugenics.

A philosophy of domination is behind both the Enhanced Games and the Olympics. It's always been about peak fitness, as well as geopolitical bragging rights. A mindset of domination has always been used to justify eugenics, domination theology stating that God created the Earth for human consumption, and that of all creatures, Man is closest to God. That's been weaponized as white supremacy and as patriarchy, amongst many other oppressive norms, making claims through pseudo-science, that white, cis, straight men are the pinnacle of humanity. Both events are an exhibition of dominance, and while the Enhanced Games is definitely worse, the Olympics still promotes an idea that the winners are just Great Athletes, and their winning has nothing to do with factors like national wealth and resources.

Another concern I have over an event that normalises enhancing bodies beyond human limits, is that it will attempt to normalise it in work places. Despite advances in automation, a lot of physical work is still done by humans, and will remain that way as long as it is cheaper. If one of the biggest sporting events endorses performance enhancers, it's not a stretch for them to become popularly used in physical workplaces. I've done many years of warehousing work, and guys in those jobs are very much into the idea of being the biggest and strongest. Employers will definitely be happy to exploit this.

I think an event like Enhanced Games is easy to overlook. The concept has been the curiosity of a lot of people as soon as they're aware of doping. However it's the involvement of ghouls like Peter Thiel, people with a TESCREAL philosophy (Transhumanism, Extropianism, Singularitarianism, Cosmism, Rationalism, Effect Altruism, Long-termism), who want to control the future of all humankind, that make this worrying. These are billionaires who want to sell you your greatest sci fi fantasies, while maintaining a firm grasp on the controls. A future in which Peak Human Performance requires you to buy a steady supply of performance enhancing drugs, is one in which the Pharmaceutical industry is perpetually wealthy.

I'd also like to include that there is also the potential of a backlash to an event like Enhanced Games, it which all forms of alterations and modifications to the human body are labelled as evil and impure, which will likely be used to endorse transphobia.

#sports #politics #tech #cyberpunk #dystopian

29 notes · View notes

thedrowsydoormouse · 1 year ago

Text

Ok I don't know if I'm sleep deprived or if this actually makes sense but bear with me because I think I've figured out the backstory for Finetime! Spoilers for Dot and Bubble below the cut.

Ok so what do we KNOW about Finetime?

It's on a different planet than the Home World

It is literally in a bubble that is cut off from the outside world

Everyone there is between the ages of 17-27

It's filled with all the rich (racist) kids who could afford to go there

They "work" for two hours each day

The weather is controlled by a satelite

The home world was also overrun by the slugs

So what can we hypothesize from that information? (Side note, anything you are about to read that is racist, classist, or both are not my actual words but what I would assume someone from that society would think or say. I do not hold those beliefs and I do not wish to associate with anyone who does.)

The grown ups back on the Home World (an already racist, classist society) had already started to drive their Dots insane and they knew their days were numbered. So they gathered up a bunch of their "least valuable" (to them) citizens to Boldy Go and find a new planet that won't immediately kill them and build a new settlement, not really caring how many of them make it back, if any, because again, racist and classist.

While the new settlement is being discovered and built, the people back on the Home World got to work planning. They knew there would only be so many spots available in the new community (think like lifeboats on the Titanic) so the easiest way they could think to secure those spots is to have people pay for them and they needed to make sure every person going could fend for themself (more or less) and was within reproductive age, thus the 17-27 year age limit. But that creates a problem. If your entire population is made up of a bunch of rich 20 somethings who have no marketable skills, how will society continue to function? So they automate everything with computer programs and AI to handle the nitty gritty and the 2 hours of "work" are basically games that keep the AI running smoothly. Then construction of Finetime is complete, the "undesirables" leave the bubble and move out into the jungle (I'm assuming. We never really find out what happened to the people who built everything because the only person we meet who would know is Ricky and well ...........), the bubble is sterilized because poor people cooties, and the stage is set for our "adventure".

So off they go, a rocket full of Rich White kids who, if they were told they were going to be the last of their kind, they either weren't paying attention or didn't care. They assume it's going to be a long holiday and once they turn 27 they'll all head back to the Home World and back to Mummy and Daddy. So they continue on, business as usual. They play their little games for two hours every day to maintain the status quo then spend the rest of their time living like rich kids on vacation. All the while their Dots are plotting to wipe out all of them the same way they started (and eventually finished) back on the Home World because nothing has fundamentally changed. The problem is the computers that run everything need above a certain population to continue functioning normally, so the first few slug victims (#allhailthegloriousslugs) didn't really make that much of a difference. But as more and more of them get eaten, the computers start to struggle to keep up and things start to go a bit haywire, like the weather satellites having issues (I know that was a real world issue and not meant to be part of the plot but it works so well in my backstory theory that I'm going with it).

TLDR: a bunch of rich, racist assholes did what rich, racist assholes do and basically destroyed their planet, used a bunch of working class people and people of color to find and build a new society on a new planet, sent their obnoxious, self absorbed trust fund babies to go live in that society, and the the completely expected thing happens when the problems continue in the new community because nothing about the society itself fundamentally changed. Any of the people who managed to escape Finetime who also manage to not drown when the boat their on inevitably runs aground (because they can't even walk without arrows, no way in hell they'll know how to drive a boat) are either going to starve to death or have to contend with countless wild animals and potentially even the people who built the bubble city in the first place. Not a single person on that boat will live longer than a week.

#doctor who #dw spoilers #doctor who spoilers #dot and bubble #finetime #i normally have a way longer set of tags for my doctor who stuff #its weird only having a couple that actually apply #i feel like i should be adding more tags but idk which ones to add #this is just kind of a long waffle because i havent slept oroperly in over a week #i am very veyr tired #please help me

20 notes · View notes

veyren-city · 5 months ago

Text

Streets and Districts of Veyren City.

As the title implies here is a list of streets: residential streets, main roads, connector roads and districts! (Animated purple and white divider made by @/cafekitsune)

Ashwick Avenue - A historic ave with old buildings, dimmed streetlights, and a lingering mist.

Cinder Row - A narrow street with a mix of small businesses' and fading neon signs knowns for it's quiet timeless feel.

Vale Street - A long winding road that always seems slick with rain, lined with cafe's record shops and a teahouse that refuses to die out.

Halloway Road - A street that curves through the heart of the city, known for its mix of modern and decayed architecture

Lockewood Drive - A semi-industrial road where tech startups and small shops co-exist.

Whitmoor Street - An area known for its old-world charm, bookstores and flower shops still hold against time.

Novastra Boulevard -

Main Artery of the pulse district. Holographic billboards and glass skyscrapers tower the streets

Notable places:

Veyren Grand Station - The Cities central train hub, packed at all times.

Astrocorp HQ - A cooperate tower belonging to a mega-conglomerate that controls most of Veyren's digital infrastructure

Synthwave Café - a 24 hour coffee shop with neon lit walls and robotic baristas

Project Dome - A massive curved screen, displaying ads, weather, news, and the latest fashion trends in real time.

Orion Street -

A shopping and entertainment hub where the latest tech and fashion is sold.

Notable places:

Oblivion Club - One of the biggest night clubs in Veyren with floors that light up as people dance. The drinks are never ending as well as the friendly company.

Neon Arcade - A retro futuristic arcade where old school gaming collides with VR and newer stylistic games.

Hyper Mart 24 - A fully automated department store with robotic assistance. You think it? They got it!

Starlight Records - A hidden vinyl record shop that still exists despite the digital age

Helix Road -

A tech and business center, home to high end offices, and digital marketing firms.

Notable Places:

Zephyr Towers - A sleek black skyscraper that's a hub for cyber security firm.

Neurolink Labs - A company experimenting with brain-interface technology.

Flux Lounge - High end, invite only social club where executives discuss business over cocktails.

Astra Bar - A bar with digital bartenders and waiters and drinks that glow under blacklight

Stratos Avenue -

Known for media, fashion, and high energy night life.

Notable places:

Veyren Broadcast Center - the city's largest media headquarters, airing new and digital influencers.

Runway 99 - An avant-garde fashion district where models walk beside holograms of the fashions creators.

Pulse plaza - A futuristic square where massive events take place and ads are projected into the skies.

The Grid - A rooftop lounge balcony with a stunning view of the cities skyline.

Synapse Alley -

A gritty underground area filled with hidden bars, black market tech, and cybernetic enhancement shops.

Notable Places:

Echo Bar - A secret jazz bar that Tristan visits from time to time. The only semi-safe place in the alley.

Bytes & Bites - A hacker café where people don't just sell coffee, they sell digital secrets.

The Raven Room - A speakeasy accessible only through a glitched billboard. Where people drank and talked shop over the latest illegal tech.

PawnXchange - A pawn shop for illegal tech, and stolen data drives.

Rainmere Street - A quiet hidden street, nothing to spectacular there home to three story walk ups.

Halloway Lane - A lesser known street where only locals wander, known for its "old world feel"

Wrenford Alley - old abandoned shops with swinging wooden signs and cobblestone road. A relic from the older days.

Bellrose Street - Home to Tristan and his bookshop~!

Dunhaven Street - Home to a small park with a pond and a playground, really only the "natural green" around these days without leaving the city.

Draycott Lane - A small street lined with homes and a few antique and second hand shops.

Easton Bridge - Pedestrian/vehicle bridge leading from the Pulse District to the residential district.

Lennox Street - A bustling road lined with chain food restaurants.

Verity Square - A plaza full of street vendors leads to Synapse alley.

Halloway Underpass - A tunnel beneath the train station where rain water pools beneath flickering lights. Leads to Holloway Road.

#Veyren City #long post

6 notes · View notes

aaliya-b · 27 days ago

Text

Top Tech Innovations in 2025 That Are Shaping Our Digital Future

Every year brings waves of innovation, but 2025 is on another level. The convergence of AI, IoT, and automation is creating tech that feels straight out of the future. Let’s take a look at some of the most exciting innovations making headlines right now.

Apple is pushing boundaries with the Vision Pro headset—an immersive spatial computing experience combining AR and AI. It’s expected to revolutionize remote work, entertainment, and real-time collaboration. Meanwhile, NVIDIA is leading the charge in AI chips and computing, powering everything from self-driving cars to creative content generation.

In the digital space, Ultimez Technology is building AI-integrated business systems that go beyond traditional platforms. Their new AI tools for HR and marketing allow businesses to automate decisions, monitor trends, and improve operations with minimal human intervention. Ultimez is positioning itself as a go-to solution for startups and mid-size companies looking to scale fast with intelligent digital products.

Samsung is also making moves with smart home ecosystems, combining AI with everyday appliances for intuitive control and personalization.

What makes these innovations so impactful is their real-world utility. These aren’t just cool gadgets—they’re designed to improve how we live, work, and create. As these technologies become more accessible, even small businesses will be able to compete on a smarter, more connected playing field.

#digital future #top tech companies #ai #it company #ultimez technology #samsung #innovation

3 notes · View notes

juauthora200 · 1 month ago

Text

PROLOGUE

WELCOME TO THE YEAR 2099

Where megacorporations have replaced former governments, dictating laws, controlling resources, and shaping the world with invisible yet ruthless hands.

Democracy was traded for profit. Freedom, for constant surveillance. Justice became a commodity. Truth, a product filtered through corporate screens.

Cities like New York are no longer just urban centers. They’ve become towering megacities, where the wealthy live in upper levels, breathing purified air, guarded by automated security, and surrounded by synthetic luxury. Below them, suffocated by decay, survive the forgotten — workers, rebels, and those starving for justice. That’s where life happens… if you can still call this life.

Here, crime is as rampant as it was a hundred years ago. Police protection only exists if you can afford it. If you want some advice, don’t go out at night — they won’t just take your wallet, they’ll take your kidneys, your eyes, your lungs. Your organs are worth far more than your existence on the black market. In the underworld, your body is currency.

And about heroes? Forget it. They were erased, discredited, or turned into distorted myths.

If you claim you’ve seen something in the skies — maybe someone… like Spider-Man — they’ll call you insane.

But don’t worry.

I’ll believe you.

Because even in this world, where tomorrow arrived bringing only the shadows of what was lost, a new legend rises. Not just a heroine — but a symbol. Someone trying to reignite the flame of justice from the ashes. Alone. Determined. And ready to prove that hope… can still survive.

1:45 PM – Uptown, NY

Above the skies of Nueva York, hidden in plain sight between colossal skyscrapers and floating towers, stands the Horizon Institute — an independent school, a beacon of advanced research in genetics, artificial intelligence, and temporal physics. Beyond being an academic hub, it also serves as a clandestine base for scientific resistance, operating in the shadows of a city ruled by megacorporations.

Its purpose: to train young prodigies to develop ethical innovations, free from corporate exploitation.

The building features a futuristic, minimalist design — geometric angles and translucent polished metal walls that shift colors according to the weather. Around it, sentinel drones patrol non-stop, equipped with anti-surveillance sensors. Optical camouflage and distortion shields keep the institute invisible whenever necessary.

Inside, technology isn’t just a tool — it’s an extension of the mind itself. Modular rooms morph into holographic environments; smart labs communicate directly with users, and an internal neural network connects each student to a living ocean of real-time data.

In the heart of the genetic research wing, a class undergoes their midterm evaluation. Students must present projects that combine theory, creativity, and, above all, ethical responsibility. The task: a debate about the moral dilemmas of genetic manipulation.

At the center of the room, floating holograms project data, statistics, alternative timelines, and simulations of possible futures — some promising, others… terrifying. Groups are already formed, debating intensely at round tables while the teacher watches from her desk, arms crossed, scanning everything.

In the back of the room, isolated, Gabriella O’Hara remains completely detached from the buzz around her. Sitting alone, she fiddles with her tablet, lazily doodling with her finger — clearly bored.

“Time’s up!!” the teacher announced.

All students hurried back to their seats.

“Group one, you may begin,” she ordered bluntly.

Five students stood up, projecting a rotating genetic model in the center of the room.

“Our proposal supports total genetic modification, as long as it’s regulated by global governments. This includes curing diseases, but also optional enhancements — such as increased IQ, physical resilience, longevity… for those who can afford it. We believe natural evolution is obsolete. Humanity must improve itself.”

The teacher didn’t even blink.

“Technically well-structured… but ethically deplorable.”

Her response hit like a knife — sharp, cold, direct. The group exchanged nervous glances, already demoralized.

“You’re basically proposing a future where genetics becomes a luxury product. You reinforce inequality while dressing elitism as progress. That’s not evolution — that’s segregation.”

Without raising her tone, she typed on her tablet:

“Group one… grade D+. Sit down.”

The group sat down, visibly defeated.

“Group two.”

The next five students stood up, even more tense.

“Our proposal supports total freedom. Each family chooses their modifications, but under the supervision of a national AI.”

A holographic chart appeared, displaying the details.

“This AI would enforce ethical limits — preventing modifications to personality, sexual orientation, or psychological traits. Additionally, we’ve created a subsidized genetic credit system for low-income families.”

The teacher took a deep breath.

“You’re entrusting human ethics to an AI? And what happens if that AI gets corrupted? Who watches the watcher? Moreover, by prioritizing unrestricted freedom, you ignored the massive social impacts of self-directed genetic engineering. Ethics isn’t just about freedom — it’s about responsibility and boundaries. And you seem more interested in innovation than accountability.”

“Group two… D.”

“Oh, come on, teacher...” one student grumbled in frustration.

“Silence!!... Group three.”

The next group stood up, nervous but determined.

“Our proposal limits genetic modifications exclusively to eradicating life-threatening diseases. No aesthetic, behavioral, or enhancement alterations. We propose a triple protocol: review by specialists, medical oversight, and public consultation with civilian representatives. We also included social impact simulations, showing how genetic inequality could explode without strict ethical standards.”

The teacher observed, pondering… then, for the first time, smiled slightly.

“A solid proposal. You demonstrated understanding of ethical, social, and scientific implications. Lacked boldness… but prioritized safety, transparency, and consensus. That’s scientific maturity — unlike the previous groups.”

She typed on her tablet:

“B+. Well done.” she added with a subtle smile.

The group sighed in relief, genuinely surprised by the rare approval.

Two more groups presented afterward, with average proposals that received similar criticism. Once she finished grading, the teacher scanned the attendance list… and noticed something strange: only one student hadn’t joined any group.

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed at the back.

“Miss O’Hara?”

The entire class fell silent and turned toward Gabriella. The air suddenly felt ten times heavier.

She raised her head, straightened her posture, and tried to keep her voice neutral.

“Yes, teacher?”

“You didn’t join any group… Do you still intend to present?”

Gabriella sighed lazily.

“...Yeah. I do.”

She stood up without rushing, ignoring the judgmental stares. Took a deep breath and began:

“Genetically modifying embryos can cure diseases, but it also creates an invisible standard of what society defines as ‘perfect.’ And to me, that’s just a new form of exclusion. My proposal is simple: use this technology solely to treat diseases that cause real pain and suffering — never to change appearance, IQ, or personality. And every decision must go through diverse committees composed of scientists, bioethicists… and, most importantly, people who actually live with these conditions. Because no one has more authority to say whether a life is worth living than those who truly live it.”

She paused to catch her breath. The room was dead silent.

“Science doesn’t exist to mold the world to our whims. It exists to embrace the world as it is — and to heal it… when it can.”

Without another word, she sat back down. Calm. Unbothered. Not pretending to be humble.

The other students whispered uncomfortably. For most, speaking alone in front of a crowd would’ve been a nightmare. But for her? It was nothing.

The truth is, she didn’t even bother preparing this in advance. She improvised — relying on her own knowledge… and the fact that her father had been a genetic engineer.

She wasn’t expecting praise from the teacher. But then, the teacher closed her tablet, looked up, and — against all expectations — said:

“Thank you, Gabriella… That was exactly the proposal I was hoping to hear today.”

The entire room froze. Even Gabriella raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Your proposal brought something most fail to notice: empathy. You understood that ethics isn’t an afterthought of science — it is science. You demonstrated not only technical knowledge, but also social consciousness. You didn’t just answer the question. You live the question. And that… is rare.”

The silence was absolute.

“Every group brought perspectives that reflect the dilemmas of our time. But not every well-packaged idea is ethically sound. Scientific ethics isn’t measured by how shiny the idea is, but by the weight of its consequences. Remember that...”

She paused to jot something down on her tablet.

“For being the only one who brought exactly what I was looking for… you get an A+. Congratulations, O’Hara.”

Gabriella simply crossed her arms, staring ahead, with that typical look of someone who couldn’t care less. Not a surprise. She always gets top marks. Being the class prodigy is as automatic as being socially isolated for it.

“Of course... Had to be the walking encyclopedia...” mocked one student, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Laughter spread around.

“SILENCE!!” the teacher ordered firmly. The louder laughs stopped, but quiet chuckles lingered.

Gabriella lowered her gaze, staring at the desk. Quiet.

Since the day she set foot in that school, being the target of jokes and exclusion became part of her routine.

Surrounded by brilliant minds like her, many envied her intellect — and that always kept her… alone. Distant. Never truly interacting with anyone.

She’s grown so used to it that, deep down, being her own company no longer feels strange. It’s simply... normal.

2:50 PM – Midtown, NY

The city carried on with its usual routine: flying cars slicing through the skies, drones patrolling the streets. Everything seemed to be in its rightful place.

Until suddenly, a piercing alarm blared from a high-tech store. The metal doors burst open with a loud crash, followed by a thick cloud of smoke spilling into the street.

Amidst the smoke, hurried footsteps echoed, and three hooded figures emerged, carrying bulky backpacks.

The drones quickly detected the intruders, zooming toward them with flashing red lights.

“ROBBERS DETECTED!!!” blared one of the drones. “MODULE: TERMINATE, ACTIVATED!!”

The drones’ bases opened, revealing laser weapons that immediately locked onto the rebels. One of them noticed, pulled a device from his pocket, and fired an electric pulse that instantly disabled the drones.

“GO, GET IN!!” shouted the one behind the wheel as they all jumped into a sleek, matte-black hover car with fake plates and a roaring engine.

The vehicle shot forward, flying at high speed through the streets.

More drones appeared in the sky, aggressively pursuing them and firing lasers. One of the rebels activated the device again, unleashing a blast that fried several drones mid-air.

“They just won’t stop coming, man...” one of them complained.

He kept firing until the last drone dropped.

“I think that was the last one...”

But as the car sped forward, a much larger fleet appeared on the horizon, surrounding them.

“Shit...” cursed the driver as he turned a corner, only to face heavily armored drones closing in.

“Dive!” one of them ordered.

They changed course, the car plunging downward, weaving through the flying traffic, trying desperately to shake the chase. The drones’ optic lenses glowed red as they aimed their laser cannons, unleashing a relentless barrage.

The rebels ducked low inside the car as the blasts punched holes all over the vehicle.

“FASTER, FUCK, FASTER!!!” yelled the one in the passenger seat, gripping the seat in panic.

“I’M GOING AS FAST AS I CAN, MAN!!!” the driver snapped, tense and sweating.

“Last thing I wanna do is go back to prison...” he muttered, desperate.

“Chill, guys. I got this,”said the rebel with the laser device, confident, as the others stared at him in disbelief.

He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a blue vape. His crewmates looked at him, utterly confused.

Standing on the seat, he faced the drones, took a deep drag, and smirked.

“SUCK ON THIS, ASSHOLES!!!” he shouted, blowing out a cloud of smoke and hurling the vape toward the drones.

Within seconds, the vape latched onto one of them and exploded, releasing a massive blue smoke cloud. Disoriented, the drones collided into each other, falling like flies.

“HELL YEAH!!” he cheered, fist raised.

“Fuck...” the driver muttered, shocked.

“Dude, that was awesome!” one of them said, holding up his hand for a high-five.

“This should buy us enough time to reach the Underground,” he relaxed, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

“Quick, that way!” one pointed toward a narrow, dimly lit path.

The driver swerved, speeding into the alley.

With the drones finally off their tail, the rebels laughed, relieved, and cruised casually toward the Underground.

After school, Gabriella walks through the city, blending into the crowd. Headphones in, a can of mango energy drink in hand, and her eyes fixed on a floating holographic screen in front of her as she scrolls through social media.

Suddenly, a notification pops up. She taps the screen.

She lets out a heavy sigh and closes the screen.

But suddenly, a sharp chill shoots through her body, forcing her to stop in her tracks. A high-pitched noise floods her mind — like invisible strings vibrating all around her, crawling up her spine like an electric shock.

Something 's wrong.

Very wrong.

Her eyes snap up, scanning — and then she sees it.

In the distance, weaving between the buildings, the dissonant sound of danger takes shape: a car. Not just speeding — completely out of control, blowing through every red light, barely missing pedestrians and cars in its path. The engine roars like a wild beast.

The car tears down the avenue, blasting past Gabriella in a blur, whipping her hair and nearly ripping the headphones from her ears. She watches it with sharp, unmoving eyes.

The noise in her head won’t stop. The danger is still there, pulsing. Instinct pounds in her chest.

She knows exactly what she has to do.

Speeding through several streets, just a few meters ahead, they spot the tunnel leading straight to Downtown. One of them, excited, practically jumps from his seat:

“We're free!!”

Or at least... they thought so. Until they were brutally proven wrong.

THUD!!

Something — or someone — lands right in front of the car. The impact makes the hood rattle like it was struck by a sledgehammer.

There she was. A feminine, athletic silhouette, radiating an intimidating presence. Her sleek suit mixed deep purple with a serene blue, crossed by metallic sky-blue lines running from her chest to shoulders and hips, forming a stylized spider symbol — as if drawn with digital circuits. A cropped dark jacket with three-quarter sleeves swayed lightly in the wind, and her hood was up, amplifying her aura of mystery.

The pink-tinted lenses of her mask glowed like neon. Fingerless gloves revealed the tips of her fingers, and her neon pink sneakers — matching her tights and tactical shorts — were an absolute punch to the eyes of anyone looking.

She slowly straightens up… and stares the rebels down in complete silence.

“Sup.” she greets, with a sarcastic, charismatic tone.

“AAAAAAAAHH!!” the rebels scream in unison.

The driver, pure panic taking over, jerks the wheel violently, swerving the car hard.

“WHOA!!” the hooded girl slides across the hood, clinging to the windshield. “Ow—my back...”

They dart into a busy avenue.

Swerving at the last second past other cars, scraping side mirrors, dodging horns and curses flying from every direction.

On the hood, the masked girl swings side to side like one of those inflatable tube guys, looking visibly nauseous.

“Riding on the hood of a speeding car? Absolutely not on my bucket list. And guess what? Here I am.”

Not missing a beat, she starts climbing along the side of the car until she crouches on the passenger seat window, staring directly at the rebel sitting in the back.

“Excuse me, buddy.” she taps his shoulder.

The guy turns—and jumps out of his skin.

“Is this car heading straight toward ‘complete disregard for life,’ or did we pass that exit already? 'Cause, if not, I’d really love to sign a survival waiver right about now.”

“Y-you... you’re that hooded chick everyone talks about…?” he stammers, pale.

“Depends… you mean the one who just jumped on the hood of this car and is now reconsidering all of her life choices?” she replies casually.

“The... the one that shows up every night, climbs walls, flies across rooftops, fights… and wears that... sorta techy suit…”

“Bingo.” she snaps her fingers.

“So... the rumors are real…” he whispers, wide-eyed.

Suddenly, the click of a trigger yanks her attention. She turns her head—and sees the rebel in the front passenger seat pointing a pistol straight at her face.

“Don’t give a damn who you are. You got five seconds to back off or—”

FWIP!

A web line sticks to the gun, yanking it so hard that the guy nearly flies with it. The pistol shoots into the hooded girl’s hand—she casually crushes the barrel like it’s tin foil and tosses it away.

The rebel, pale, scrambles for a knife—but barely lifts his arm before—FWIP!—another web pins his hand to the seat.

“Look, fellas, I’m really not in the mood for a fight...” she stands upright, hands raised, “…but if you don’t cooperate, you’re not gonna leave me much of a choice.”

She flips, somersaults through the air, and lands gracefully right on the windshield—directly in front of the driver.

“Oh, and… rumor has it you guys just pulled off a robbery. Funny, huh?”

“We didn’t steal anything!!” the driver shouts.

“Oh, really? You expect me to believe you just walked out of the corner store with over fifty high-tech gadgets stuffed in your backpacks—each costing more than a month's salary—dressed like you’re about to kidnap Batman, driving someone else’s car… and just happen to be coming straight from the Underground?”

Silence. So heavy you could hear their hearts pounding. They glance at each other, one swallows hard, another tries to speak but chokes on his own words. They’re trapped—and they know it. No way out.

“I’m not just some masked chick. I’m the eye that sees everything. I know everything that happens in Nueva York.”

“W-what… what are you…?” one mutters, in shock.

“People call me by a lot of names. But most know me as—”

“EVIL HELLO KITTY!!!” the guy in the back yells.

“...Wait—what?” she freezes, confused.

“That’s your name, right?”

“Of course not!!!” she snaps, offended.

“Night Claw?”

“No.” her tone flat.

“Destroyer?”

“No!” louder now, growing impatient.

“Miss Sticky?”

“NO!!” practically screams.

“...The Enforcer?”

“Puta madre...” she groans, dragging her hands down her mask. “You’re not even close!!! My name is—”

“TRUCK!!!”

The scream cuts through everything. The rebel points. Everyone turns forward—just in time to see an out-of-control truck barreling straight toward them.

The driver yanks the wheel as hard as he can. The car practically tips onto its side, scraping the asphalt and throwing sparks as the hooded girl clings to the windshield.

They manage to dodge—by inches.

As the car slams back down, nearly flipping, they make a desperate turn into a side street—

Only to fly past a sign that reads: “DEAD END.”

Since they hadn't noticed the sign and were speeding, the rebels didn't see the wall right ahead. The only one who realized it in time was the hooded girl. The moment she spotted it, she shot a web, yanked herself out of the car just seconds before the crash.

The car smashed violently into the wall. The front crumpled like aluminum foil, the hood folded brutally, exposing twisted engine parts and releasing smoke. The headlights exploded, shattering into hundreds of crystal-like fragments that scattered across the asphalt like sparks.

A huge mess.

The hooded girl landed back on the ground and sprinted toward the car. Amid the obvious wreckage, she saw the rebels knocked out inside. Without wasting time, she started dragging one of them out carefully… until suddenly, her spider-sense flared.

She looked up just in time to see one of the rebels, holding a shard of glass, lunging at her, aiming for her neck. Instinctively, she twisted her body and ducked, making him miss and crash down from the car.

But the second rebel—the one she was pulling—reacted quickly. He wrapped his arms around her neck, locking her into a chokehold. She struggled, kicking and trying to break free, just as she noticed the first guy getting back up and coming at her again, now aiming the shard straight for her stomach.

In the last second, she grabbed the jacket of the man choking her and threw herself backward, using his own weight against him. The impact threw him off balance—just enough. With a sharp, precise motion, she headbutted him right under the chin. The rebel grunted in pain, staggering.

The two crashed to the ground with a dull thud, rolling over the asphalt. The shard flew from the attacker’s hand, sliding across the pavement until it stopped just inches away from the hooded girl’s feet.

But the danger wasn’t over yet. A noise behind her made her spider-sense tingle again. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the third rebel—the one who stayed in the car—pointing that strange device straight at her.

“I saw you on the city surveillance… using this gadget against the drones… You made this thing?”

The rebel gulped, pale. His hands trembled as he held the device, but he nodded.

“Dude… that’s awesome!” she grinned under the mask. The rebel blinked, unsure if she was being sarcastic or serious. “No, seriously! That means you’re a genius — especially for someone from the Underground. You’ve got insane potential!”

She started walking toward him slowly.

“Have you ever thought about putting that talent…” —she gestured with her hands— “…to good use? Something bigger. Instead of wasting your time stealing stuff, you could be making things that actually change lives.”

While she talked, the second rebel—the one she'd thrown—was quietly crawling up behind her, holding an iron bar, ready to strike.

“Imagine… someone from the Underground, with barely any resources, building something like this and suddenly getting noticed. Maybe even becoming a brilliant engineer. That could totally change your life…”

The rebel raised the bar and swung it—but at that exact instant, she vanished—like dust blown away by the wind.

The third rebel flinched so hard that he accidentally fired the device. The electric blast hit his partner with the iron bar dead-on. The guy screamed, convulsed, and dropped to the ground, completely dazed.

Before the other could react, a web shot stuck to his arm and yanked him upward. The device slipped from his hand. He looked up—and there she was—hanging from a pipe, casually swinging.

She fired two more webs, snagging the other two knocked-out rebels, and reeled them in, wrapping all three together into a giant web cocoon, leaving only their heads exposed. Then she hung them upside down, dangling like slabs of meat.

The hooded girl lowered herself down in front of them — also upside down, hanging by a single web line.

“Told you... If you didn’t cooperate, I’d have no choice.” She crossed her arms.

“GO TO HELL, BITCH!!” one of the rebels exploded, thrashing furiously.

She said nothing — just shot a web straight onto his mouth to shut him up.

“It was fun chatting with you guys back there on the highway…” —she adjusted her hood— “…but in the end, I had to stop you one way or another. It’s my job.”

From her left wrist, she opened a circular blue device that projected a holographic screen.

She tapped through a few commands until an image popped up: a hand-drawn sketch of a tall, faceless man, dressed like a cowboy. Half of his face was robotic, with a glowing red eye, and he was holding a gun.

“You know this guy? Ever seen him around?” she asked, turning the screen toward them.

The three looked, glanced at each other, analyzing it. Then shook their heads.

“You sure?” she pressed, staring them down.

“We swear! We’ve never seen him!” one of them stammered, clearly nervous.

She sighed heavily, frustrated. Dropping from the web, she landed on the ground and walked over to the car to grab her backpack.

And then... that familiar chill down her spine.

“HEY! YOU THERE!!”

She spun around — a squad of agents arrived on hoverbikes, surrounding her. The moment she saw the symbol on their uniforms, her face dropped.

“Ay, coño... Public Eye. —she muttered, annoyed.

“AS AUTHORIZED REPRESENTATIVES OF THE PUBLIC EYE, WE ORDER YOU TO REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE!” shouted the leader, gun raised.

“If I were you... I’d keep my distance,” she replied, slipping her hand into her pocket. “I’ve got a very dangerous weapon right here…”

All the agents immediately aimed their weapons at her.

“HANDS UP WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE!”

She shrugged.

“Your choice.”

In one swift move, she yanked her hand out of her pocket and thrust it forward, fist clenched. All the agents braced themselves, ready to fire…

But she just stood there — perfectly still — milking the tension.

Then… she flipped them the middle finger.

And in a blink—she vanished, gone like a bolt of lightning.

“WHERE DID SHE GO?!” one of the agents shouted, spinning around frantically.

Far away from there, the hooded girl was swinging between buildings, firing her webs with the rebels' backpack slung over her shoulders.

“I have this weird feeling like I’m forgetting something…” she muttered.

As she swung past a tower with a giant holographic billboard, her eyes caught the time: 3:12 PM. Instantly, her whole body froze and her eyes widened in panic.

“OH MY GOD, TRAINING!!” she screamed, grabbing her head. “I TOTALLY FORGOT!!”

Without a second thought, she fired her webs twice as fast, cutting through the wind and launching herself forward with all her strength.

“And I still gotta return all this crap…” she grumbled, clutching the backpack tight to her chest as she sped up.

6:00 PM – Sector B9, South Hive Residential: Downtown, NY.

The elevator screeched before stopping at the 29th level of the South Hive. The doors slid open with a metallic groan, revealing a damp hallway lit by flickering bluish lights. The air carried that smell of old metal mixed with incense — some neighbor insisted on running those fragrances, trying to mask the pollution seeping up from the lower levels.

Gabriella, still in her soccer uniform, sweaty and exhausted from training, pressed her thumb against the biometric lock. The door beeped softly and slid open.

The ceiling lights flicked on automatically, casting a soft amber glow that warmed the room.

Inside, the apartment was a complete contrast to the world outside. The walls were decorated with floating holographic art — some looping endlessly, others changing with the time of day or weather. The space felt cozy, even if it relied on an old heater with a mind of its own.

“Welcome back, Mini Boss,” chimed the voice of Lyla, the 22nd-century AI and former personal assistant to her father, Miguel O’Hara.

“Hey, Lyla…”

“Your bipl readings show elevated heart rate. Been overdoing it?”

“Ugh, don’t even ask... I was late to practice. Coach chewed me out hard... As punishment, 50 laps around the field and 100 push-ups.”

Gabriella headed straight for her room. It was a simple space, painted lilac, with a lofted bed covered in plush toys. Near the entrance, a shelf packed with trophies, first-place medals, books, boxes, and picture frames — some of her with her father. The walls were covered in posters of bands and art groups.

She tossed her backpack onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed, lying on her back with a heavy sigh.

“Excuse for being late?” Lyla popped up beside her, crossing her arms.

“Wanna believe I ran into a bunch of rebels stealing high-tech gear?”

“In broad daylight?” Lyla asked, now materializing sitting cross-legged right on Gabriella’s stomach. Being a tiny hologram, she weighed nothing.

“Yup. And they dragged me into a high-speed car chase… I tried to introduce myself, but then they started calling me a bunch of names… don’t even ask.”

“Sounds like you had... a very productive day, Mini Boss.” Lyla chuckled.

“Oh, and there was the group presentation too. Got an A… Presenting alone, obviously.”

“Then what you really need now... is to recharge.”

“I need a shower, that’s what I need.” Gabriella stood up, walking right through Lyla. “Did tío leave any messages?”

“Said he’s working overtime tonight. Won’t be home until late.”

“Yeah... He sent me the same message.” She replied, opening the closet and grabbing a towel.

Without much rush, she left the room and headed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later…

After her shower and already changed, Gabriella appeared with her hair down, barefoot, wearing dark blue sweatpants and an old shirt that used to belong to her father. The shirt was huge on her, hanging down to almost her knees like a dress, and the sleeves were so long she had to roll them up a few times.

She walked into the kitchen — small and cramped — opened the fridge and stared into the desert inside: a bottle of water, nearly empty milk, leftover mac and cheese, a few cans of beer… and that was it.

“Lyla, did you remind tío to stop by the market?” she asked, already expecting the answer.

“I tried calling, but… as usual, straight to voicemail,” the AI replied with a shrug.

Gabriella sighed, crouched down, and began rummaging through the cupboards, hoping for a miracle. After opening and closing three cabinet doors, she found, in the back of the last one, a cup of instant noodles.

“You’ll do,” she muttered, resigned. “Lyla, make a list. I’ll dictate, and you order it from the market.”

“Absolutely, Spiderling,” the AI answered, pulling up a holographic notepad.

“Lyla…” Gabriella frowned. “I told you not to call me that. Sounds like a sidekick’s name.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” Lyla replied with a mischievous smile. “Unfortunately, it’s saved in my system, and nothing’s gonna convince me to delete it.”

Gabriella rolled her eyes, barely hiding a smile.

While filling the electric kettle, she began dictating the items, and Lyla noted everything down.

“Order placed,” the AI confirmed. “Estimated delivery: five to ten minutes.”

“Just enough time for my noodles to be ready…” Gabriella commented, pouring the boiling water into the cup.

A few minutes later, the intercom buzzed. The groceries had arrived. Gabriella paid, thanked the courier, and began putting everything away. She stocked the cupboards with cans, packets, and boxes; the frozen items went straight into the freezer, and the fresh produce into the fridge.

When she shut the last door, she looked around, satisfied: finally, the cupboards and fridge were full. Enough for a few weeks — or so she hoped.

She glanced at the clock. Perfect. Her instant noodles were ready.

Later that night, after dinner, Gabriella sat cross-legged on her bed, her father's old guitar resting gently in her lap. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a golden hue across the lilac-painted walls, creating warm, comforting shadows around the room.

The instrument, though aged, was still well cared for. Her fingers turned one of the tuning pegs, adjusted a string, tested the sound. The timbre of the wood resonated low, like a whisper from the past.

She strummed a few scattered notes — chords that seemed to be searching for a path, until finally, her fingers found the beginning.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment. And then, she began.

The first notes filled the room, spreading like a familiar perfume — heavy with longing, memory, and love. Each chord sounded like a silent conversation with someone who was no longer there.

Her eyes sparkled — not exactly with tears, but with a deep, quiet emotion pressed tight inside her chest.

Her voice came out low, almost a whisper, sweet and melancholic:

“En mis noches de pena”

“Por una morena de dulce mirar”

“Luna de xelajú me diste inspiración”

“La canción que hoy te canto”

“Regada con llanto de mi corazón”

“En mi vida no habrá”

“Más cariño que tu, mi amor”

“Porque no eres ingrata, mi Luna de plata”

“Luna de xelajú”

“Luna que me alumbró”

“En mis noches de amor”

The final notes slid out softly.

“Hoy consuela la pena…”

“Por una morena…”

“…que me abandonó”

The last string’s vibration faded into silence.

Gabriella bowed her head. For a few seconds, she hugged the guitar, eyes squeezed shut. When she opened them again, there was sadness, yes — but also strength. Memory. Love. And a silent promise.

Her gaze shifted to her wristwatch on the bedside table. She reached for it, and a bluish screen lit up before her eyes. She scrolled through some files until she found an old recording.

The video projected into the air: a younger Gabriella, still a child, laughing while sitting on her father’s shoulders. She smeared a piece of cupcake on his face, drawing a burst of laughter from the man. He set her down, still laughing, wiping frosting off his face, pretending to be mad — but failing to hide his grin.

The recording paused. The image froze on that moment: both of them smiling, so full of life.

Gabriella reached out, touching his face on the screen as if she could feel him there.

“I miss you so much…” her voice cracked. “Your voice... your smile…”

Tears welled up in her eyes, trembling on her lashes.

“Pero no te preocupes, papá…” she whispered, taking a deep breath, eyes shut tight “I will find whoever did this to you… And your death will be avenged… Lo prometo.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the screen, leaving a long, tender kiss before closing the file. She gently placed the watch back on the nightstand.

Leaning the guitar against the side of the bed, she slipped under the blanket and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Tomorrow would be another day — just like so many others. And even with the weight of the world on her shoulders, she needed to rest.

She turned off the lamp.

The apartment door opens, and a man with a worn-out appearance enters.

His body seems to weigh three times its normal size. The boots leave dirty marks on the metallic floor as he walks through the entrance, his shoulders slumped, crushed by the weight of an unbearable day. He still carries the backpack on his back. His brown, wavy hair is completely disheveled, and his work uniform — a battered jacket, old scarf, and stained pants — looks like it survived a war.

“Good evening, Gabriel. Welcome back.”

LYLA greets, appearing near the entrance, floating as always, with her golden glow and that deliciously sarcastic tone.

“You look 72% more destroyed than yesterday. Can I declare you an archaeological treasure?”

Gabriel lets out a tired sigh, drops the backpack on the floor without even looking at it, and runs a hand over his face.

“A sound acid bath and maybe five minutes without hearing anyone’s voice?” he suggests gruffly, his voice hoarse.

“That sounds like a ‘no’,” she responds in her sarcastically friendly tone.

He crosses the room, practically dragging himself to the sofa, and collapses onto it as if he had just climbed the entire planet.

The apartment is small but cozy. The walls are decorated with unfinished art pieces, floating paintbrushes, and sketches projected on the screens around. A modest but lively home.

“The community mural committee turned into a mess,” he begins, pressing his temples. “The security drones thought the art was subversive, and one of them shocked me because it thought ‘freedom in colors’ was rebel code…”

He rubs his face, lets out an even heavier sigh, and messes up his hair.

“And the projector broke in the middle of the rendering. Result: I painted a ten-meter mural… by hand.” He shakes his head. “Not even dignity was left.”

“Wow… dignity,” she pretends to be surprised. “Was that still part of your kit?”

“Funny…” he laughs, but the exhaustion weighs down even his smile.

Gabriel looks at his own hand, trembling. Just trying to stretch his fingers sends a sharp pain through his arm.

“I can schedule a physiotherapy appointment… or activate a massage protocol?” suggests Lyla, blinking.

“I just… need to sleep.” He tilts his head back, his eyes slowly closing. The exhaustion feels as if the entire sofa is on top of him.

But after a few seconds, he opens his eyes again, staring at the ceiling, half-lost in his thoughts.

“And Gabriella?” he asks, his voice softer now.

“She’s sleeping,” Lyla responds. “Biometric levels indicate her stress dropped 40% after dinner. And… she did the grocery shopping, including buying your favorite cereal.”

A smile finally appears.

“I completely forgot to stop by the market…” he laughs, relieved. “Thank God I have a niece who takes care of me.”

“Oh, and you have a new message…” she warns, changing her tone.

“If it’s from Alchemax… delete it,” he cuts in, sharply.

“Considering that, there have been twenty-five messages from Alchemax deleted today,” Lyla responds, with that blasé tone of someone who’s used to it.

Gabriel smiles to himself, shaking his head.

“Funny… twenty years of them ignoring that I exist. And now they want to ‘integrate my profile’?”

He falls silent for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. His expression changes, hardening.

“They can keep trying all they want. But me... I’m never getting involved with Alchemax.”

He pushed himself up from the couch and walked toward the window. Leaning his forearm against the glass, he rested his forehead there, staring out at the city below — chaotic, neon-lit, scarred.

“I never wanted anything to do with them… and even less do I want Gabriella anywhere near them. I promised my brother I’d take care of her. She’s all we have left now.”

He keeps staring at the city for a few more seconds, deep in thought.

“I don’t want Gabriella walking the same path Miguel did...” he murmured, almost to himself, as he exhaled. “That’s why... I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her far from Alchemax.”

#spider girl #spiderverse au #gabriella o’hara #spiderman au #spiderman fic #writer tumblr #tumblr fanfiction #writers on tumblr

3 notes · View notes