The crystal decanter gave a faint clink as he lowered it, the unfinished pour glistening in the amber light.
His fingers had gone still — perfectly, unnervingly still — as if your words had frozen the entire axis of his world.
For the first time since you entered, the mask he wore slipped.
"…What did you just say?" he repeated, his voice quieter this time, but sharp as a blade.
I leaned back in the chair deliberately, crossing one leg over the other. The leather groaned beneath me, a soft, predatory sound.
"I said," I drawled, "I agree on cutting off the eight families."
His jaw flexed, just barely.
He wasn't offended — no, he was intrigued.
Which was far more dangerous.
"You're not the type to accept my decisions," he said slowly. "Not without a fight."
"Oh, trust me," I said, a wicked curl tugging at my lips, "I'm not accepting. I'm joining."
His brows lifted. "Joining?"
I nodded.
"Joining the execution."
The silence that followed was delicious.

He set the glass down without drinking. A sharp, clean sound.
He leaned forward, forearms braced on the desk, blue eyes colder than bank vault steel.
"What did you find?"
Not why did you agree — no, he skipped straight to the intel.
Classic Eiser.
I let the anticipation hang for a beat, long enough for his patience to waver at the edges.
"It started with the bar conversation I overheard," I said. "Eight heirs. One night. And more arrogance than actual intelligence."
He gave a humorless snort.
"That's every night for them."
"But that night was… different."
A flicker. He noticed the shift in my tone.
I continued, voice low.
"When I followed up on them, their companies, their movements… I found something odd. Something that didn't add up. The more I dug, the more it felt like threads in one giant, rotten tapestry."
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees.
"They aren't just liabilities, Eiser.
They're dependencies. Parasites.**
His eyes darkened.
"You're saying exactly what I've been trying to tell Grandmother for years."
"No," I countered gently. "I'm saying something worse."
I dropped the final report file onto his desk.
It snapped open like a guillotine.
"They've become a cancer in the system — one that kept your family's corporation in a chokehold for a decade."
His jaw tightened for a second.
A second was enough for me to know I had hit the nerve.
"When I read the last report… something clicked," I said softly.
"The eight families weren't just exploiting loopholes. They were creating them."
His gaze sharpened.
"You're implying conspiracy?"
"No." I gave a slow, satisfied smile. "I'm implying control."
That word sat between us like a detonator.
Eiser exhaled once — a dangerous, dark sound.
"You realized it too, then."
"Realized what?"
"That Grandmother wasn't 'tolerating' them."
His eyes met mine.
"She was indebted to them."
I felt the blood chill in my veins.
He watched my reaction with a mix of satisfaction and regret — a strange emotion coming from him.
"That's why," I continued, recovering, "we need to act now. Cut them off while we still have leverage."
I placed the two folders on his desk:
President Davino
President Harrius
"The only two banks untouched by the eight families. The only two financially clean enough to align with us without being compromised."
He reached for the folders slowly, like each one weighed more than gold.
"Davino is loyal once he chooses a side." I tapped the file. "He's predictable. Conservative. His bank plays safe."
"And Harrius?"
"Oh, Harrius," I murmured, smile darkening. "He's ambitious. Sharp. Opportunistic. He'll gamble on us if the prize is enormous."
"And the prize is?" Eiser asked.
"Destroying eight dynasties in one blow."
The corner of his lip twitched — the closest thing he ever gave to a grin.
"You didn't come for permission," he said.
"You came to choose the battlefield."
I met his gaze with cool certainty.
"We choose the bank president," I said. "We choose our ally. We choose the future of this corporation."
Then I pushed both files toward him.
"So tell me, Eiser."
My voice dropped into a low, velvety challenge.
"Who do we invite to the table?
Davino…
or Harrius?"
---

Her refusal lingered in the air like a thin blade—sharp, elegant, and painful in a strangely beautiful way.
"I understand," I said, the measured tone disguising the faint sting beneath it. I stepped back, allowing the distance she clearly needed.
But inside?
Inside, something shifted.
Not in defeat—no.
In calculation.
She was shaken.
Not by danger.
By me.
And that changed everything.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The faint hum of the corridor lights buzzed overhead, far too loud for a moment so quiet. Her hands were still clasped tightly, knuckles pale, as if she was holding herself together by force.
She exhaled softly, the sound barely audible, but I caught it.
She was steadying herself.
And I found myself watching her far too closely.
Her flushed cheeks.
Her lowered gaze.
That tiny tremble in her fingertips she hadn't noticed yet.
Her emotions… she was fighting them with disciplined precision.
It was almost admirable.
Almost.
---
"I'm… glad you understand," she finally said, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her conflict. She cleared her throat, regaining composure. "It's not about trust. I simply can't allow myself to—"
"To make an exception for me," I finished softly.
Her eyes snapped up, startled.
She hadn't expected me to say it so plainly.
"That's not—"
"It is," I said, but not unkindly. "And that's alright. You're doing your job."
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to argue… but couldn't.
Because I was right.
Her duty was her armour. And she wore it tightly.
But for a moment—just one—she had peeked out from behind it.
And I had seen her.
---
She thought she was the only one flustered.
She thought she was the only one who slipped.
But when she whispered, "Mr. Frederick… even if it's only for a moment, I would love that…"
—she had caught me off guard.
No one said my name like that.
Soft.
Careful.
Almost… reverent.
I swallowed the reaction, burying it beneath strategy and control. But the echo of her voice lingered.
She didn't need to know that.
Not yet.
---
I took in her expression—tight, conflicted, determined.
She was bracing herself for my disappointment, maybe even frustration.
But I wasn't disappointed.
I wasn't frustrated.
I was learning her.
"It's alright," I said gently. "You don't owe me exceptions."
Her breath caught, ever so slightly.
I leaned just enough to close a fraction of the space between us—nothing inappropriate, just close enough that she could feel the sincerity.
"And you weren't flustered," I added with a quiet, warm smile.
"You were… thoughtful."
Her eyes widened, the soft pink on her cheeks darkening.
"I—I wasn't—" she stammered.
"I know," I interrupted with a calm certainty. "You don't need to explain."
Her lips pressed together, unsure whether she felt relieved or even more exposed.
---
I straightened, fully stepping back now, giving her exactly what she needed: space to breathe.
"I'll wait," I told her. "For whatever decision you make later."
She blinked, confused. "Later?"
"Hm," I nodded thoughtfully. "People don't stay conflicted forever. They eventually choose the one thing they really want."
A subtle tremor passed through her.
I gave her a final, polite bow of the head—professional, respectful, but undeniably warm.
"Thank you for considering it at all," I said. "Let me know when your answer changes."
I turned to leave.
Not defeated.
But deliberate.
---
🌑 Her Reaction (internal)
As soon as he stepped away, her shoulders sagged.
Not in relief.
In something deeper.
A mix of guilt, desire, and the sinking realization that she had wanted to say yes.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
BA-BUMP.
Her breath trembled.
He heard me… he saw right through me.
Her duty screamed one thing.
Her heart whispered another.
And for the first time, she wondered which voice would win.
---
Serena pov
"Very well then."
His voice had been calm, but the decision pressed against me like a cold wind.
I watched him turn, his coat shifting with that composed elegance he always carried.
He took a single STEP, the quiet thud resonating more heavily than it should have.
The moment held just a fraction too long.
"I'll see you later," he said, not looking back.
"I'll see you later," I whispered, forcing my reply to sound normal.
He took the final STEP, disappearing beyond the doorway.
Only then did I release the breath trapped painfully in my chest.
For a moment, I stood still, staring at the empty space where he'd been seconds earlier. The silence felt thick — a too-loud reminder that I was alone again.
My thoughts drifted, unbidden, to the two I had watched interact earlier.
Two people who had once been merely professional — distant, cautious, almost cold.
But now…
Now they like each other.
The truth sat bitterly on my tongue.
I should be happy.
I should be relieved that the plan was working.
But instead, there was a quiet, familiar ache spreading through my chest.
I'm the one who brought them together.
I was the bridge between them — and the bridge never gets to cross itself.
Interfering now would only seem selfish. Petty. Unprofessional.
It wasn't my place.
And worse… it wasn't allowed for someone like me.
I swallowed hard, pressing my fingers against my palm as if the pressure would steady my heart.
So I should never let anyone know how I feel.
My pulse throbbed in my ears, but I set my jaw, forcing the trembling emotion down into a locked box inside me.
Never.
No matter what slipped through in my weaker moments…
No matter how much my chest tightened when he looked at me…
No matter how much I hated seeing him drawn to someone else…
Never.
That was the promise I carved into myself.
A sharp knocking rattled the door, jolting me out of my spiraling thoughts.
"LADY SERENA," called a familiar voice. "I brought the hotel manual you asked for."
I blinked, grounding myself back to reality.
"Come in," I said, smoothing my expression.
The door CLICKED open, and my attendant stepped inside, carrying…
No.
Dragging…
a monstrous yellow binder that looked like it could flatten a grown man.
I straightened, relieved to have something practical to focus on.
"Oh, nice! I appreciate it."
I picked up my feather pen, ready to jot a few cheerful notes—
And then she walked closer.
And the book was…
Huge.
TITANIC.
A slab of pure administrative doom.
My smile faltered.
"Can you bring it over—EEK! Why is it so big?!"
My voice cracked at the end, half-horrified, half-betrayed.
The binder landed in my hands with the force of a small boulder.
THUD.
I nearly staggered.
"Why does it weigh more than a person?" I whispered, appalled.
My attendant gave me a pitying smile — the kind reserved for patients in hopeless medical dramas.
"I wasn't expecting it to be that bad when they said it was a single book," I complained to no one, flipping through pages so dense they looked like they had negative space. "But look at it! When am I supposed to finish that?!"
I tossed my hands dramatically, feathers from my pen fluttering.
"This is driving me up the wall…! UGH."
My inner voice was practically screaming.
NOT A HAPPY MEMORY. NOT AT ALL.
Future me would resent Past me for ever requesting this.
The attendant bowed slightly, still offering the book — as if I had any choice in the matter.
I sighed and drew it toward me, the desk creaking under the weight.
Responsibility was heavy.
This time, literally.
I squared my shoulders.
Fine.
If my heart is a mess,
I can at least conquer this stupid manual.
Eiser pov
My head felt thick with irritation, my temples pulsing from staring too long at the monstrous hotel manual.
Just looking at the binder made me nauseous.
My attendant, sensing my swelling frustration, offered a polite bow.
"I'll take care of the other things you asked for now."
"Yes, go ahead—" I waved absentmindedly, still glaring at the manual like it had personally wronged me.
That's when the sudden, old-fashioned RRR RRR RRR sliced through the room.
We both jerked our heads toward the ornate brass telephone.
My attendant's eyes blew wide.
"WHAT?!" she gasped. Her voice hit a pitch I had never heard before. Then, realizing she had reacted too strongly, she covered her mouth, coughed, and tried to stand taller. "Ahem. I—I'll get it for you."
"It's fine," I interrupted, reaching for the receiver with a practiced, calm grace I did not feel.
If someone was calling this line—this newly installed, highly select line—it wasn't random.
I lifted the receiver.
CLICK.
"Hello, this is Serena."
There was a soft crackle, then a warm, familiar voice filled the line.
"IT'S ME, LOGAN."
My face lit up instinctively.
"Oh, yes! UNCLE LOGAN!"
Just hearing him lifted the weight from my chest—the manual, the emotional knots, all of it.
"I heard you finally had a phone installed," he said, laughing heartily. "So naturally, I had to be the first to use it."
I smiled.
"It's good to hear your voice."
His tone shifted, becoming serious—but not cold.
"I'm calling because… I wanted to talk about the matter of the Dorothea Mine we discussed a few days ago."
My back straightened.
My fingers curled more tightly around the receiver.
"Yes," I replied. "Go on."
Uncle Logan took a breath.
"Just as you predicted, the Dorothea family was struggling. Severe deficits. Unpaid miners. Their debt kept rising after the minerals ran out."
Good.
The intel was accurate.
And more importantly—the timing was right.
"So we did as you suggested. We introduced them to the person Sir Eiser recommended…"
My heart slowed in anticipation.
This was the move, the one that could tilt the scales quietly, without attracting the eight families' attention.
"...and I just received news that the deal was sealed successfully!"
Relief surged through me.
I pressed a hand lightly to my chest, closing my eyes.
He continued, voice brimming with satisfaction.
"I heard everyone involved was thrilled. They said it was a perfect match."
I exhaled softly, letting myself savor the victory.
"Oh… is that so?" I asked, letting my voice carry polite surprise.
But inside?
Inside, I felt the warm blaze of triumph.
Calculated, quiet triumph.
I had set that domino in motion.
And it had fallen perfectly.
Uncle Logan wasn't done.
"And what's even better," he added, almost giddy,
"is that the Dorothea family contacted us just now. They want to offer us the stone we needed—as a gesture of gratitude. A commission, they said!"
For a moment, the world sharpened.
Everything fell into place.
A crumbling enemy was now indebted.
An essential resource secured.
And a delicate political thread rewoven in our favor.
A slow, satisfied smile curved across my lips.
This… this is what I was made for.
Not romance.
Not flustered moments with impossible men.
Not heartbreak behind closed doors.
This—
quietly redirecting the flow of power—
this was my arena.
This was where Serena truly shined.
Serena pov
---
The gentle thrum in my chest lingered long after the call ended. I pressed my fingertips lightly against my sternum, almost embarrassed at myself.
Nice?
Yes… it felt nice.
Warm, even.
A strange warmth that wasn't born from obligation, fear, or expectation — but from recognition. From someone actually seeing the work I put in.
I let out a small exhale, barely audible in the quiet room.
"…I'm really not used to this."
I turned toward the window, watching sunlight spill across the floor in clean, golden lines. For a moment, the future felt bright, structured, manageable—something I had actively shaped instead of stumbled into.
That was when the air shifted.
A quiet presence approached from behind, deliberate and heavy. I didn't have to look to know who it was. The scent of his cologne, faint but distinct — cool, grounded, expensive — gave him away instantly.
Eiser.
I straightened reflexively, as though I'd been caught indulging in something forbidden.
"What was that expression?" he asked from behind me, his tone low, unreadable.
I blinked. "Expression?"
His footsteps moved closer, slow, unhurried. "You looked… pleased."
The pause he took was intentional. I could almost feel the weight of his gaze on my cheek.
"Very pleased."
Heat crept into my ears before I could stop it. "It was nothing. Just work going well."
"Hm."
A single, quiet sound of acknowledgment — but not disbelief.
He stopped beside me, his hand sliding casually into his pocket, the other resting lightly against the edge of the desk. His presence seemed to fill the room, the air thickening around us.
"The call with Logan went well?" he asked, though I suspected he had heard enough to know the answer.
"Yes," I replied. "The Dorothea family… they offered the stone themselves. As thanks."
"That's because you handled it correctly," Eiser said simply.
My heart skipped.
That was… praise. Again.
Real, plain, unembellished praise.
Not political flattery. Not polite obligation.
Just truth.
I lowered my gaze. "I only did what was necessary."
"That's the difference," he said. "Most people don't."
His voice softened slightly, but not enough to be obvious. It was the kind of softness you only noticed if you were paying attention — and unfortunately, I was.
The warmth in my chest stirred again, inconveniently alive.
"Stop looking so startled," he added, almost amused. "You earned it."
"…I'm not startled."
"You are."
His lips curved just slightly — a ghost of a smile, but not an unkind one.
And somehow… that quiet acknowledgment from him landed even deeper than Logan's enthusiastic praise.
BA-BUMP.
BA-BUMP.
Embarrassing.
I cleared my throat. "W-we should get going. He's waiting for us at the hotel."
Eiser straightened, the fleeting softness vanishing like a receding tide.
"Then let's not keep him waiting."
But as he moved toward the door, he added without looking back:
"And Serena—"
My breath caught.
"—you did well."
The moment stretched, suspended between us like a thin, invisible thread.
Then he walked out.
And I stood frozen, that unfamiliar flutter blooming in my chest all over again.
Oh no… this feels even nicer than before.
---
Of course — here is the same continuation with Kui replaced by Sui, keeping all tone, flow, humor, and emotion intact exactly as before:
My fingers dug into the thick spine of the hotel manual, the weight of it bending my knees like I'd been handed a baby elephant instead of a book.
"Sui… seriously… who published this? The Holy Temple? WHY is it this big?!"
My voice cracked into a desperate squeak as I flipped a page that was somehow—insultingly—made of heavier paper than necessary.
"This is not a manual. This is a WEAPON."
Sui, bless her unhelpful soul, simply nodded. "It is quite thick, my lady."
"THICK? Sui, this thing has chapters listed in roman numerals."
I pressed both palms into my face. "ROMAN. NUMERALS."
She set a hand on my shoulder with all the gentle pity of someone watching a puppy drowning in soup. "You can do it, Lady Serena."
"No, Sui. No. This is how people DIE."
But even as I complained, even as I stared down the beast-sized book in despair, the warmth from earlier lingered stubbornly in my chest like an ember refusing to go out.
Uncle Logan's praise.
The Dorothea deal.
The banks.
The strategy.
The thrill of actually being useful, being capable.
My face softened involuntarily.
That was when Sui leaned a little closer, studying my expression.
"She must have heard some very good news… look at her. Glowing like a peach."
I reflexively swatted at the air. "Shh—stop narrating my emotional growth."
"I thought your heart had shriveled up like a winter melon after everything," Sui continued nonchalantly. "But now it looks like it's sprouting again, now that someone watered it—"
"SUI."
She paused. "Yes, my lady?"
"…Stop being metaphorical. I'm having a crisis."
"Of course."
But her smile said she didn't believe me at all.
I dropped my forehead onto the manual with a dull THUD.
The weight of the book did not budge. Neither did my problems.
Okay, Serena, I told myself. The manual is a mountain you can climb. Eiser… is Mount Doom.
I inhaled sharply.
"There's something I want to know," I said more to myself than to Sui, my voice small despite my best efforts. "But only Eiser can answer it."
Sui's brow rose. "Then just ask him."
"…Sui."
I lifted my head just enough to glare.
"If I could 'just ask him,' I wouldn't be here trying to commit manual-induced suicide."
"Fair."
Because it wasn't a simple question.
It wasn't even comfortably professional.
It was tied to everything I had been trying to handle cleanly: the banks, the new arrangement, the territory lines, the way Frederick had bowed out, the whole structure of this new power balance.
I knew I couldn't avoid him forever.
I had responsibilities.
And talking to Eiser… was part of those responsibilities.
But wanting something from him—information, clarity, anything—felt dangerously close to wanting something else from him.
I stiffened at the thought.
"Lady Serena?" Sui nudged. "You're doing that thing again where you go really still and your heart starts beating too loud."
"I AM NOT—"
BA-BUMP.
BA-BUMP.
I slapped a hand over my chest. "—doing anything."
Sui stared knowingly. "Should I fetch him?"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT."
"Ah."
My hands clenched on the manual's edges until my knuckles turned white.
"I just… I need to be careful," I whispered. "With Frederick, it's protocol. With Eiser, it's… complicated. If I rely on him too much, or if I can't hide my… expressions—"
Sui blinked. "…Your expressions?"
"NO QUESTIONS," I snapped immediately, face burning.
"Understood."
I sighed, letting my shoulders sag.
"I need to do this right. If I mess up… it'll cause more trouble later. So… I have to ask him the question. Eventually."
"Eventually," Sui echoed gently.
"But for now…" I stared at the towering manual, letting out a long, resigned groan. "I'll conquer THIS monstrosity."
"That's the spirit, Lady Serena."
"No, that's despair."
Even so, I flipped open the first page.
One impossible mountain at a time.
I sat down at the table, placing the monumental hotel manual beside me, which still felt like a heavy stone I had to lift. The scent of coffee and the quiet rustle of paper were the only sounds in the office.
"I'll start going through it right now," I announced, feeling determined despite my earlier protests. The sheer weight of the CHUNKY BIG book meant I couldn't waste another minute complaining.
My attendant, Sui, watched me with a small, knowing smile. "Oh, right! Do you want a cup of coffee?"
"A cup of coffee… yes please," I replied, my attention already drifting back to the first dense page of the manual.
"I'll get it ready for you," she said, turning to the side table where the ornate tea service was laid out.
I needed the caffeine. I was already exhausted just looking at the table of contents. I took a deep, fortifying breath and opened the manual, determined to conquer this chore.
I read through the initial sections. The formatting was tedious, the language dry, and the history long-winded.
I'll be able to finish this by today if I don't run into any serious problems…
Optimistic. Possibly delusional. But I was trying.
I began to feel the familiar strain of deep concentration. My temples tightened. My concentration is running low…
Then—
A loud, bright GIGGLE shattered the quiet.
I looked up, annoyed.
Sui was standing by the table, tray in hand, trying desperately to stop laughing. The elegant coffee cup rattled dangerously with each suppressed giggle.
"Why are you laughing?" I asked flatly, patience already worn thin by the manual.
She pointed to the coffee pot, her shoulders shaking.
"I was laughing because I forgot to pour the coffee first."
I blinked. Looked at the empty cup. Looked at the still-full carafe.
Despite myself, the corner of my mouth twitched.
"You've been busy all day," I said, gentler now.
Sui straightened, though her cheeks were still flushed pink with embarrassment. "No, I'm fine! I'll bring you the coffee right away."
She turned to pour it—still moving a little stiffly, fatigue dragging at her limbs. The slight tremor in her hands made the pitcher shake.
Then—
CLATTER.
She bumped the table.
The delicate little creamer wobbled.
I froze—
It tipped—
CRASH.
Milk splashed across the dark wooden floor and onto the pristine carpet.
My small smile died instantly.
Oh no… I told her not to do anything too difficult today…
Sui stood frozen, face white with shock and shame.
"I-I'm so sorry, Lady Serena! I'll clean it up right away!"
But this wasn't clumsiness. This was exhaustion.
I stood and crossed the room to her.
"It's alright," I said softly. "I'll do it. I was the one who asked you to get me coffee."
"No, I'm okay! I'll clean it—"
I gently took her arm, stopping her.
"No. You've worked hard all day. Go take a rest. I'll get a maid to clean the floor later."
I guided her toward the door—not pushing, just steadying her.
"Go ahead, Sui. Rest."
She looked at me, eyes wide and glistening with surprise. Gratitude softened her features.
"Yes, Lady Serena. Thank you."
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
I knelt on the floor, blotting the spilled milk with a towel.
The office was quiet again, but the mood had shifted.
The manual could wait.
The work could wait.
My people came first.
Always.
Here is the continuation, matching your tone, pacing, emotional nuance, and the manhwa-style beats you've been building:
I slipped my arms into my jacket, smoothing it over my shoulders with a decisive rustle. The tension I had been suppressing all day resurfaced—not the emotional kind, but the kind that spurred movement. Purpose. Urgency.
I took one last glance at the colossal hotel manual still open on the table, pages splayed like a beast waiting to devour me.
Later, I told it in my mind, narrowing my eyes.
I'll tame you later.
For now, I had something more pressing. Something I could not delegate, avoid, or rationalize away.
I stepped out of my room, the heels of my shoes striking crisply against the polished floor. Each STEP echoed with the weight of the decision I had just made.
The distance to the meeting room felt unusually long, stretching like a tightrope between two towering responsibilities: duty and self-control.
My thoughts spun.
Eiser is already meeting Davino… Did he think I wouldn't get involved? Or did he think I shouldn't?
No. I was the one who brought him the documents in the first place.
This is my work too.
My pace quickened.
I felt oddly lighter, even though a knot of dread sat low in my stomach. It wasn't fear of confrontation—it was the fear of irrelevance. Of being seen as ornamental. Of becoming a shadow of my mother and grandmother rather than their successor.
Not this time.
Not ever.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft DING.
I stepped inside, pressing the button for the 14th floor—the private conference suites reserved for dealings like these.
The mirrored walls reflected my steady breathing.
My focused gaze.
The faint tension in my shoulders.
I looked… competent. Prepared.
But underneath it—
BA-BUMP.
There it was again.
The small, embarrassing, emotional pulse of anticipation.
Not because of Davino.
Not because of the eight families.
Because of him.
Because I knew the moment those doors opened, I would see Eiser's expression shift—surprise, annoyance, calculation—whatever it was, I needed to face it head-on.
The elevator opened with another crisp DING.
I stepped out into the hushed, plush corridor.
A lone attendant stood outside the conference room, bowing slightly when he saw me.
"Lady Serena. Sir Eiser has been informed you are joining."
"Good," I replied, voice cool and controlled, though a faint thread of nerves tugged under the surface.
From inside the conference room, I heard low voices.
A smooth, unfamiliar one—President Davino.
And a deeper, steady one—Eiser.
For a moment, I stood there, fingers lightly touching the polished brass doorknob.
My heart tightened.
I need him for this answer… but I don't want to rely on him.
Still… I can't do this alone.
And he needs to know that I'm not a child hiding behind his decisions anymore.
I took a breath.
Straightened my jacket.
Let my expression settle into calm steel.
Then—
CLICK.
I opened the door.
And the two men inside looked up immediately.
Here is your continuation — keeping the tension sharp, the dynamic electric, and your Serena powerful and unwavering:
Eiser's expression shifted almost imperceptibly as I laid the folders across his desk. Not surprise—he didn't allow himself that—but something closer to annoyed recognition. He hated when I moved faster than he anticipated. He hated when I played on his level.
He set down the drink with a slow, controlled clink.
"You investigated them." His tone wasn't a question. It was an accusation wrapped in reluctant approval.
I crossed my legs, sitting tall in the chair before him. "Of course I did. I'm not here to throw tantrums about signatures. I'm here to replace the eight families before they even realize they've fallen."
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
"…And you think you can do that," he said quietly, "by barging into my office with two files?"
"No," I replied just as calmly. "I think I can do that by walking into the meeting you're currently having with President Davino."
That got him.
His eyes sharpened. "Who told you about that meeting?"
"The hotel manager," I answered without hesitation. "I'm joining you."
"You're not," he said instantly.
"I am."
"You're not," he repeated, leaning forward now, irritation simmering. "You're emotional. You just yelled at me over a signature."
"I yelled because you left me out," I snapped, leaning in as well. "Not because of the decision."
Silence crackled between us like static.
I didn't break eye contact. "I agree with cutting them off. I understand the urgency. And I know more than you think I do."
His brow lowered. "Oh?"
I slid the second folder toward him, tapping my finger on a highlighted section.
"Your grandmother spent years trying to sever the ties to the eight families because of this," I said. "They weren't just manipulating market prices. They were using our funds to cover illicit international transfers. They were laundering money through land deals under our name."
His eyes flicked down, and for the first time, I saw the faint tightening of his mouth—he hadn't known the full extent.
"'Interesting assholes,'" I echoed, voice cold now. "They were devouring your company from the inside. If we don't secure independent banks now, they'll come back with leverage we can't predict."
Eiser slowly leaned back, studying me with a new, begrudging consideration.
"…You're serious about this," he murmured.
"Completely."
He steepled his fingers. "You want to join the meeting."
"I need to join it." My tone softened into something sharper—purpose, not emotion. "I want to stand beside you on decisions like this. Not behind you. Not after you."
His gaze locked on mine, the room thick with that silent, dangerous understanding that always hovered between us.
Then—
He stood.
Slowly, deliberately.
He reached for his jacket on the coat stand.
My breath paused.
Without looking at me, he said,
"Then hurry. President Davino doesn't wait."
He walked to the door, opened it, and looked back over his shoulder with a glare that was equal parts challenge and invitation.
"…Try to keep up, Serena."
Her words came out like a snap of electricity, sharp and defiant. The angry little cartoon dog in her thoughts bared its teeth, barking furiously at me.
I didn't flinch.
I stepped closer, my gaze unwavering. "Serenity, that's not a drink for you," I repeated, my tone calm but brooking no argument. "That bottle is practically ninety percent alcohol."
She froze.
"…What?"
She blinked at the jar-like bottle in her hand, now suddenly suspicious. The label was half in a foreign language and half rubbed off.
"Yes," I said, folding my arms now. "That is not juice. Or tea. Or anything a normal person drinks to 'relieve dryness.'"
Her eye twitched. "THEN WHY IS IT SHAPED LIKE A JUICE BOTTLE?!"
"Because the person who sent it doesn't care if you survive the first sip," I said flatly.
The chibi servant in the background let out a squeaky gasp of horror.
She stared at the bottle again, her bravado rapidly collapsing, her inner cartoon dog shrinking into a trembling puppy.
"…Oh."
I leaned down slightly, lowering my voice. "Put it down."
She huffed, cheeks reddened from a mix of embarrassment and residual fury. "I–I could have handled it," she mumbled, placing the bottle back on the table with exaggerated care. "I just… didn't want to."
"Sure," I replied, unimpressed.
She shot me a glare. "Don't 'sure' me."
"You were about to drink industrial-grade liquor," I said. "In the middle of a rant."
"I WAS HYDRATING!"
"You were about to DIE."
The chibi servant now held a tiny funeral flower, whispering, "Rest in peace, Lady Serenity…"
Serenity exhaled through her nose, trying to regain dignity. "Fine. Whatever. I won't drink it." She crossed her arms again. "But don't tell me what I can and can't handle."
Her tone softened—not in defeat, but in vulnerability.
"I already hate myself for trusting the wrong people. I don't need to feel weak on top of it."
That pulled me short.
I looked at her fully then, the anger in her voice peeling back enough for her pain to show through. Even her posture—rigid, defensive—seemed more like a shield than aggression.
"…You're not weak," I said quietly.
She looked away.
"You're reacting like someone who was betrayed," I continued. "Anyone would be furious. Anyone would want revenge."
Her throat bobbed, and for a moment the fire in her expression dimmed, revealing the woman behind it—hurt, stubborn, fiercely loyal, and now fiercely wounded.
She pulled her knees slightly inward, curling into the sofa.
"I just… don't want to be stupid anymore," she murmured.
I took the bottle from the table and pushed it far out of her reach.
"You're not stupid," I said. "You're angry. And you're learning. Don't confuse the two."
Her eyes met mine—still fiery, but no longer lashing out.
"…Still. You can't boss me around all the time."
I smirked faintly. "Then stop trying to drink poison."
"IT WASN'T POISON!"
"It would've felt like poison."
She groaned, burying her face in her hands, while the chibi servant slowly removed the tiny funeral flower, relieved.
The room hummed with quiet authority, the air taut as a drawn wire. Eiser's dark eyes followed my every movement, the faint amber glow of the yellow bottle casting long shadows across his desk.
"I've already gathered all the pertinent details," I said, voice even but edged with purpose. "The eight families' influence isn't just financial—it's systemic. They've infiltrated alliances, leveraged debts, and manipulated key officials. Any hesitation now will cost us more than we can afford."
Eiser lifted the glass to his lips, swirling the golden liquid. For a moment, he seemed indifferent, almost amused. "Go on," he said finally, setting the drink down with a soft clink.
I placed the two files on the polished surface between us, the weight of paper under my hands mirroring the weight of the decision we were making. "These are the only two banks that remain independent," I explained, pointing to the neatly organized folders. "President Davino has a conservative, cautious approach, highly protective of his institution's autonomy. President Harrius, on the other hand, is aggressive, willing to take calculated risks for rapid growth."
Eiser's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information. "And your recommendation?"
I met his gaze steadily. "The choice isn't just about who can be persuaded. It's about who will withstand the eventual backlash when the eight families realize we've cut them off. We need a partner who will remain unshaken under pressure. My research favors the one with independence and foresight, not just immediate cooperation."
He paused, fingers drumming lightly on the desk, the room holding its breath. The next move was his—but the groundwork had been laid. We were aligned now, not just in strategy, but in understanding the scale of what had to be done.
Eiser finally nodded, a silent acknowledgment that the path forward would be swift and uncompromising.
The instant the liquid hit my throat, my eyes watered, and a violent shiver ran through me. My hands shook as I set the glass down—already empty, my pride dissolved in a fiery blaze.
"AAAHHHH! IT BURNS! MY THROAT! HOW—HOW CAN PEOPLE DRINK THIS?!" I shrieked, flailing slightly, the chibi-me crying with flames erupting around her head, smoke curling upward in cartoonish despair. The skull-and-crossbones icon hovered ominously above her tiny figure.
The servant's chibi-figure leaped in panic. "S-SERENA! NO! I WARNED YOU!!"
I gasped, bent over, tears streaming. "WH-WHAT IS THIS STUFF?! MY MOUTH… MY THROAT… IT'S—UGHHH!" Every breath felt like fire. I was trapped in my own rash defiance.
Eiser, previously unreadable, stiffened beside me. The room seemed to darken around him; swirling, icy patterns manifested like smoke in a graphic thought bubble. "CHILLY…" the caption read, capturing the sudden, icy tension.
A bead of sweat formed on his temple. Then another. Slowly, DRIP… DRIP… DRIP… tracing a cold line down the side of his neck over the crisp folds of his suit. His blue eyes, usually calm, flickered with alarm.
"HEY…" his voice broke slightly, almost a whisper now. "…I don't think this is… meant for human consumption." His hand hovered uncertainly near the bottle, as if he could stop the very laws of chemistry from working if he reached out.
I coughed violently, clutching my chest. "AAAGH! IT HURTS! IT BURNS! I… I CAN'T…" My vision swam. The chibi-me now had cartoonized smoke pouring from my ears, tiny X's replacing my eyes.
Eiser stepped back, his expression a mix of disbelief and horror, his suit already slightly damp from stress-induced sweat. DRIP DRIP DRIP. He glanced at the small, yellow bottle, then back at me, as if realizing the magnitude of what had just transpired.
The room fell silent for a beat, save for my spluttering and the soft drip of sweat. The little yellow bottle sat innocently on the table, unassuming, yet clearly harboring a potency beyond comprehension.
Eiser's normally commanding posture faltered. The image froze: a visibly shaken, blue-eyed man, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, a silent question in his gaze: what exactly have you just done, Serena?



Chapter 20 end