Beep. Beep. Beep.
The alarm clock screamed like a soulless siren, dragging me out of the remnants of an uneasy dream. I reached out with the reflex of a sleep-deprived zombie and silenced it with one slap.
But unlike yesterday, or the day before that, I didn't shoot out of bed with the optimism of a fresh recruit ready to conquer the day. No. I just… stared at the ceiling.
Something lingered in my chest. A chill that didn't belong to the air conditioning. The memory of her—that terrifying, beautiful demon in heels—was etched into my mind like a curse.
Takamura Reina
That name burned like acid.
Yesterday felt like some surreal fever dream. But I knew it wasn't. I could still hear the cracking slam of her palm on the table, the venom in her eyes, the taunting purr in her voice.
And I was supposed to see her again today.
"...I'm so screwed."
Dragging myself out of bed like I was about to face a firing squad, I changed into my usual shirt and slacks, ran a comb through my hair half-heartedly, and headed downstairs.
The familiar scent of grilled salmon and miso soup hit me as soon as I stepped into the kitchen. A warm, domestic contrast to the warzone inside my head.
Hinata was already seated at the table, placing the last of the dishes neatly. Her mother, Sayaka-san, sipped tea with elegance that made me wonder if she used to be a queen. Meanwhile, Daichi-san, the family's resident drama king, greeted me like we were in a stage play.
"Ah! The young master descends! Morning, dear guest!" he exclaimed, arms stretched as if he were presenting me to an invisible audience. "You look like a man haunted by the ghosts of failed job interviews!"
I blinked. "Good morning, Daichi-san…"
Nami, Hinata's little sister, peeked at me over her rice bowl. Her eyes narrowed mischievously, like a cat ready to pounce.
"Already burnt out, onii-san?" she teased. "You just started your dream job."
I gave her a dry smile and dragged my feet to the table.
"Not burnt out. Just… mentally toasted."
Hinata suddenly stood up and walked toward me. "Wait."
Before I could process it, she leaned in—close. Way too close. I froze like a broken computer.
"H-Hinata…?"
She gently placed her forehead against mine, checking my temperature.
"You're warm," she said softly, looking up at me with concern. "Maybe you're coming down with something."
My heart didn't just skip a beat—it panicked and tried to leave my chest entirely.
"I-I'm fine!" I stammered, turning into a cherry tomato. "It's nothing serious! Probably just nerves or something. Don't worry!"
Sayaka-san smiled knowingly. Daichi-san clutched his heart like he was witnessing a soap opera climax.
"Ah, the blossoming of young love!" he cried.
"D-Dad!, stop!" Hinata blushed too, retreating back to her seat.
"I swear I'm okay," I muttered. "I can't ruin my attendance record just a few days in…"
Hinata gave me one last glance. "If you're sure. But if anything feels off, tell me, okay?"
I nodded. We ate breakfast—well, I tried to. My appetite was held hostage by anxiety.
---
At the Company – Another Day in Hell
We arrived at the company building, and the moment I saw those tall glass doors, my stomach curled like a dying leaf. Everything from yesterday played on a loop—her glare, her cruel smile, the way she turned a simple accident into a trial by fire.
I stuck close behind Hinata, trying to keep my head low. Maybe if I acted invisible, I could survive the day.
No such luck.
A crowd gathered in the main hall. Apparently, another company-wide meeting was being held. The tension was thick as we all waited.
Then she entered.
Takamura Reina
She strode in like a queen, long legs, flawless figure, wearing black heels and an outfit sharp enough to murder someone's self-esteem. Her presence was cold, yet dazzling. The kind of woman who didn't walk—she commanded the air around her.
"Good morning," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "I'm Takamura Reina. As most of you have already learned, I'm the new company president, the daughter of Nakamura-sama, your previous CEO."
Polite applause. Mine was half-hearted.
"Now that the formalities are over," she snapped, suddenly shifting from elegant to terrifying, "get back to work. This isn't a tea party."
The room scattered like scared pigeons.
But her eyes locked onto me.
"You. Aizawa. My office. Now."
My legs betrayed me. I couldn't even squeak in protest.
---
The President's Office – Hell Unleashed
Her office was sleek, modern, and suffocating.
For a few seconds, she said nothing.
Then—
BANG!
She slammed her palm on the desk so hard I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"You think you can get away with embarrassing me in front of everyone?" she hissed. "Apologize. Right now. Or pack your things."
I clenched my fists.
What the hell was I supposed to apologize for?
"I… I didn't do anything," I said quietly. "You bumped into me. If anything, I—"
My mouth kept moving, but my soul had already started writing my resignation letter.
"You should be apologizing for your clumsiness."
Silence.
I realized I said it out loud.
And I regretted it instantly.
Her face darkened, but instead of yelling, she smirked. A terrifying, slow smirk.
"I see," she said, circling the desk like a predator. "So you've got some spine after all."
I took a step back.
"Then let me tell you something, Aizawa. I know you've dreamed of working here your whole life. It's every little peasant boy's fantasy to work at Nakamura Industries, isn't it?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper, sickly sweet. "Would be a shame if someone made that dream a living nightmare."
She walked closer—too close.
"You have two choices," she murmured. "Keep pretending to be brave, and suffer every hour you work here… or play nice, and maybe, just maybe, I'll go easy on you."
I swallowed hard. My brain completely short-circuited.
She stood up—slowly, deliberately—like a predator savoring the moment before the kill. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, each step sounding like a countdown to my execution.
And then... she stopped right in front of me.
Gone was the furious, demonic presence that had been tearing into me moments ago. In its place, she exuded something far more dangerous—mischief, amusement, seduction. A twisted sort of affection. Like I was some toy she had every intention of breaking… but lovingly.
"What's it going to be, darling?" she purred, fingers slipping around my necktie.
My breath hitched as she tugged—gently, but firmly—drawing me toward her with one elegant motion. The gap between us disappeared. Her face hovered just inches from mine.
Too close. Way too close.
Her breath ghosted over my neck, warm and slow. I felt my skin crawl with a mix of heat and cold. My knees nearly gave in. I wasn't just blushing—I was combusting.
And then, she leaned in further… her lips grazing the shell of my ear.
A shiver tore down my spine.
"You can keep your pride…" she whispered, voice as smooth as silk, "…and suffer. Or surrender—and maybe, just maybe, I'll go easy on you."
Then her hands moved—slowly, deliberately—gliding along my back, tracing upward with a kind of unnerving gentleness. They slipped across my chest, lingered there, then rose to my face. Her fingers brushed my jaw, her thumb grazing my cheek as if she were about to kiss me… or consume me whole.
She was initiating something far more dangerous than a power play.
Something wild. Intimate. Unhinged.
I shut my eyes, lips pressed into a trembling line, my breath catching in my throat.
This wasn't a boardroom power play anymore. It was psychological warfare. And I was losing.
My hands balled into fists. Shame and fury tangled in my chest like barbed wire. I wanted to scream. I wanted to vanish.
But somehow—somehow—through the storm in my head, I heard my own voice break through.
Steady. Quiet. But defiant.
"I didn't do anything wrong," I snapped, my voice cracking through the thick tension like a whip. "And I won't let you break me. Fire me if that's what you want—but I won't kneel to your games."
The words came out before I could stop them. My heart pounded so violently, I could feel it in my throat. My fists clenched at my sides—partly from fear, partly from defiance, and maybe… a little disbelief that I'd actually said it.
Silence swallowed the room.
It wasn't empty. It was loud in its own terrifying way—like the moment before a lightning strike.
She stared at me.
Not blinked.
Not breathed.
Just stared.
The fury in her eyes was no longer the firestorm I'd seen earlier—it was something colder now, quieter. A simmering rage that chilled the room more than it burned. Her jaw tightened ever so slightly.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"Then get out."
Each word landed like a blade.
No yelling. No theatrics. Just pure, venom-laced dismissal.
And that scared me more than any scream ever could.
I turned on unsteady legs, each step toward the door feeling like I was wading through fog. My hand trembled slightly as I gripped the handle and pulled it open, the outside light spilling into the room like a long-awaited escape.
But then—God help me—I glanced back.
She was already seated again, legs elegantly crossed, lips curled into that same wicked, knowing smile. She raised her fingers in a slow, seductive wave, playful yet dripping with mockery. Like she was both toying with me and daring me to come back.
"Let's see how long you last, little hero," she cooed, voice thick with amusement.
Then—just to twist the knife—she blew me a kiss.
And bit her lower lip.
A slow, hungry bite. Like she wasn't done with me yet.
Something inside me cracked.
I nearly collapsed right there in the hallway—body overwhelmed, heart pounding, brain caught in a whirlwind of horror, confusion, and… something else. Something I didn't even want to name.
What the hell kind of nightmare had I just walked into?
And worse—why did a part of me… feel like it had only just begun?
---
Later That Day
I sat on the bench just outside the building, clutching the edge with trembling hands, struggling to steady my breath. My heart was still racing from what had just happened. My body felt like it had been dragged through a storm of fire and ice. And my mind—my poor, overworked mind—was still trying to comprehend the sorcery that had just unfolded in front of me.
A soft voice broke through the fog.
"Hey… you okay?"
I looked up. Hinata stood beside me, concern clouding her warm eyes. She slowly sat down next to me, close enough that I could feel her presence—gentle, comforting, real.
"You overworked yourself again," she said softly. "I told you not to push it, especially when you weren't feeling well this morning."
Her voice was a balm, tender and light, yet it made my chest ache.
I shook my head weakly.
"N-No… I'm fine, really. But I… I don't even know what kind of mess I just walked into. I think I might've picked a fight with the devil herself."
She blinked, then let out a small, amused laugh. "Then let's fight her together."
I turned to her, and despite the dread still churning in my gut, something warm bloomed in my chest. The golden hues of the setting sun bathed her face in soft amber light, making her eyes shimmer like honey. I blushed.
"You… wanna go somewhere?" she asked, her tone light, hopeful. "Just to clear your head?"
I hesitated. The weight of everything still pressed down on me—but her voice, her presence, made it bearable.
"…Yeah. I'd like that."
She smiled, then gently took my hand. Her fingers were cool but comforting. She tugged me up, and just like that, we ran off into the late afternoon streets—away from the shadows of that office, away from the chaos. Just for a little while.
I remember the way she laughed, turning back every few steps to check if I was keeping up, her hair catching the breeze, dancing like ribbons in the wind. The soft scent of her shampoo drifted to me, sweet and calming—like home.
Somehow, in those brief moments, the world didn't feel so heavy.
By the time the sky faded into twilight, she had succeeded—she'd made me smile. We found ourselves sitting on another bench beneath the stars, our breath visible in the cooling night.
I turned to look at her.
The moonlight wrapped around her face like a blessing. She looked so peaceful, glowing, like she didn't have a single care left from the long, exhausting day.
She caught me staring. Her expression shifted—curious, a little bashful.
"What?" she asked.
I smiled softly. "Thank you."
A flush crept into her cheeks, and she looked away, biting her lip.
We both laughed, quietly, like sharing a secret only we understood.
---
That Night
Sleep never came.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open, the dark pressing down like a second blanket. My mind refused to quiet.
Reina's voice echoed like a curse—seductive, mocking, unforgettable. The way she leaned in… the way she played with me like I was her personal toy… and those words she whispered, like silk laced with venom.
I wasn't sure what terrified me more.
The sheer power she held over everyone—even me.
Or the chilling truth that some twisted part of me… wasn't just scared.
It was fascinated. Addicted. Drawn to her like a moth to fire.
What kind of fool am I?
Buzz.
My phone lit up on the nightstand. The vibration broke through the silence like a heartbeat.
A message from Hinata.
Just a winking emoji.
I blinked. Then laughed—soft, breathy, almost a sigh.
"Hinata… you dummy," I whispered into the night.
She was just in the next room, probably curled up with her pillow, clueless to the storm ravaging my mind.
And yet… her tiny message reached through all the noise.
I closed my eyes, holding onto that little flicker of warmth in the chaos.
Maybe—just maybe—I could survive tomorrow.