Krosmetics Headquarters
Kro had been quieter than usual all morning.
Too quiet.
She no longer looked like the casually charming boss who would drift over to Ukraine's desk, sit on the edge of his table, and ask strange personal questions with that unreadable half-smile on her lips. Today she was all steel. Focused. Severe. Her silence made the office feel colder than the air-conditioning ever could.
Ukraine kept stealing glances at her, wondering where he had gone wrong.
He wanted her to say something.
Anything.
Even a single word that was not sharp or formal. He wanted something to cut through the tension and prove he had not ruined everything beyond repair.
Then, at last, she spoke.
"Ukraine."
Her eyes never left the computer screen.
He straightened immediately.
"Yes, boss!"
"Did you do what I asked you to?"
His heart stuttered, "Did you ask me for something, boss?"
Kro stopped typing.
Slowly, she looked up.
"I sent you an email on Saturday. I told you to inform HR to speed up the interview process for my personal assistant. Did you tell him?"
Ukraine swallowed.
He lied.
"Please forgive me. I didn't open any of my emails this weekend. I can go do it now, if you want."
The lie sat bitterly in his mouth.
He had seen the email.
Read it.
And deliberately ignored it.
He was not ready to lose the one position that kept him by Kro's side. Not now, when his father was spiraling, the minister was turning dangerous, and the truth around Kro felt closer than ever. He had grown used to being near her. Worse—he had started wanting to stay there.
That was exactly why he had refused to pass along the message.
Kro's expression hardened.
"Ukraine, I hope you haven't forgotten this is work. If I ask you to do something, do it. I'm sure you don't want me to become a mean boss because of you."
His head lowered.
"I sincerely apologize, Miss Kro. I won't make the same mistake again. I've learned my lesson."
"Good."
The silence returned.
Ukraine felt the chance slipping away, but he was too restless to let it go. There would never be a perfect moment with Kro. There never had been.
So he forced himself to ask.
"Are you alright?"
Kro's fingers paused on the keyboard.
"What do you mean?"
He tried to sound casual.
"I mean… after Friday night. I'm just wondering how you're doing."
She answered without looking at him.
"I'm doing great. Thanks for asking."
He nodded.
Then, almost against his own better judgment, he started again.
"What about—"
"I'm trying to read something here," she cut in. "Can you save your questions for later?"
The words hit harder than they should have. Ukraine felt the sting all the way down to his chest. He nodded once, turned back to the tablet, and pretended to focus on the schedule.
Inside, he wanted to disappear.
If he had actually been a ghost, that would have been the perfect moment to vanish.
...
Jail
Something had been wrong from the start.
Akeshi knew that the moment his men failed to return Friday night.
They had never failed him before. Not like that. And before he had even fully processed the delay, the next blow arrived: all three of them had been arrested.
He needed answers.
So the minister carved thirty minutes out of his day and went to the jail under quiet arrangements. His title bought him privacy and respect. No one would mention that he had come to meet criminals.
Three minutes later, he stood staring through the bars at Paolo, the leader of the gang.
The sight of him was disturbing.
Paolo looked ruined.
His face was swollen, his movements stiff, his body held together by pain and fury. Akeshi had seen these men return from violent jobs before, but never like this.
He stared.
"Please tell me you and the others fought someone before you got to her house. Please tell me it wasn't her who did this to you."
Paolo's eyes were wide with something worse than pain.
"It was her, sir," he whispered. "That lady."
Akeshi's mouth tightened.
"How? You're supposed to be the toughest men in Knnew Republic. Look at you. It doesn't even look like you fought back."
Paolo's breathing quickened.
"Patrick's jaw is broken. He said she hit him once. Judas' ribs are fractured. He said it was one kick. She stepped on my face and I couldn't move. She's strong, sir. Very strong. Mysteriously strong."
"Mysteriously?" Akeshi snapped. "What are you trying to say? That she's supernatural?"
"Yes," Paolo whispered. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
Akeshi stared at him.
Paolo leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower.
"I shot her. Right in the back. A vital spot. And after a minute, I saw the wound close. The skin fixed itself. The bullet came out. She wasn't even bleeding—"
"Enough!"
Akeshi's voice cracked sharply across the room.
"She must have stomped your head too hard if you're saying this nonsense. What kind of human can do that?"
Paolo's face twisted.
"I'm not saying she's human, sir."
Akeshi's chest tightened despite himself.
"Then what is she?" he demanded. "Immortal?"
"All I'm asking is for you to believe what I saw. You said it yourself—we're the toughest men you know. So explain this. Explain how we lost like that."
Akeshi stepped back.
He hated how Paolo's words clung to him.
The man had never lied before.
And the details made an ugly kind of sense.
"I want you to shut your damn mouth, Paolo," Akeshi said at last. "All three of you will be released tonight. Leave the country immediately. Everything is prepared."
His voice dropped colder.
"But if I ever hear you speak this way again, you know exactly what I'll do to you."
He turned and walked out.
Yet even as he left the jail, Paolo's words kept crawling through his mind.
He had come for answers.
Instead, he had left with curiosity.
And curiosity, in a man like Akeshi, was often more dangerous than rage.
...
Krosmetics Headquarters
Being in the CEO's office felt like sitting in front of final judgment.
That was the only way Misaki could describe it.
Kro looked at her with a frightening kind of neutrality, as if nothing at all existed between them—not the minister, not the attack, not the fear, not the guilt.
Misaki's discomfort had become almost physical.
"I know you know why I'm here," she said.
Kro folded her hands, "Do you want me to thank you for sending Ukraine to rescue me?"
The disappointment in her voice was clear.
Misaki shook her head at once.
"No. I'm not here for gratitude. My father did something stupid and—"
"Dangerous."
"Yes," Misaki said quickly. "Dangerous too. And I really want to apologize—"
"Misaki, you need to stay out of this. I'll handle your father."
"I know you won't just handle him," Misaki said. "I heard what you did to those men. I don't want the same thing to happen to my father."
Kro's eyes narrowed slightly. "Wait. Are you asking me to forgive him?"
Misaki lowered her gaze.
"Yes, Miss Kro. And if possible… to forget it happened."
Kro let out a dry scoff.
"Please," Misaki said. "I'm begging you."
"But your father tried to have me killed."
"I know, but—"
Misaki slid from the chair and dropped to her knees.
Right there on the office floor.
Kro hated it instantly.
There was something unbearable about people doing that in front of her. It always made her feel like a monster, even when she had every right to be angry.
She moved immediately and bent down, tugging Misaki up by the arms.
"If anyone walks in and sees you like this, what do you think they'll think of me? Stand up. We'll speak like professionals."
"Not until you forgive my father and me," Misaki said stubbornly. "I swear I'll talk to him. I'll end this. Please believe me. Don't fire me. I love this job."
"I know you do. Now get up. Stop making yourself look inferior. And I'm not firing you, so stand up."
Misaki looked up hopefully. "Promise?"
Kro's patience snapped just enough to sound real.
"Misaki, stand up before I change my mind and fire you for real."
That did it.
Misaki sprang up and rushed toward the door so quickly that Kro could only stare.
"I'll fix this! I promise!"
Then she was gone.
Kro shook her head and let out a helpless scoff.
No matter how hard she tried, she simply could not bring herself to hate that girl.
...
Evening
Ukraine was fixing Kro's schedule for the next day when the office door opened.
He looked up.
Sue walked in with the HR manager.
His stomach dropped immediately.
Kro was already moving.
She took a file from her drawer and headed toward the sofas, where Sue and the HR manager had begun sitting down.
Then she looked over at Ukraine.
"Ukraine. Come join us."
His pulse started pounding.
"Yes, boss."
He joined them, though by now he had already guessed what was happening.
Or thought he had.
"I hope you received my email on Sunday," Kro said to the HR manager.
"Yes, ma'am."
That alone was enough to make Ukraine feel like the biggest fool alive.
He had thought he had outsmarted her.
He had not.
Not even close.
"Sue," Kro asked, "have you finished the preparations?"
"Yes, boss."
"Good."
Then she turned to Ukraine.
Her face was unreadable.
"Ukraine."
"Yes, boss."
"Starting tomorrow, you'll officially join the marketing team."
The words hit him like a blow.
He froze.
Everything in him went still.
He could practically see the mission sliding away—washed downhill, lost before he could grab it.
Sue and the HR manager both looked at him, expecting gratitude.
What they got instead was silence.
Then, finally—
"Why?"
The word came out before he could stop it.
Kro stared at him. "Because you didn't apply for this position."
Ukraine turned at once to the HR manager.
"Do you still accept applications for the assistant job?"
The man blinked, "No, the process is closed—"
"I'll still send you my documents."
"Ukraine, stop." Kro's voice cut across the room.
Instantly.
Sharply.
She closed her eyes once, fighting irritation.
"Sue. Mr. Poh. Please leave us."
They did, quickly.
The office door shut behind them.
When Kro opened her eyes again, the air had changed.
Ukraine was still seated there, rigid, wounded, furious.
And Kro was angry too.
At him.
At herself.
At the timing of all of it.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked. "Why are you acting like this?"
Ukraine leaned forward.
"I want to know why you sped up the interview process. Do you despise me or something? And if you do—why?"
Kro stared. "I told you about this last week. This is not about you. It's about the company."
"Was I not doing a good job?"
"God, Ukraine." Her patience frayed visibly. "You applied for the marketing department, not to be my assistant."
"You could have asked me first before making the decision. What if I wanted to stay as your official personal assistant?"
That did it.
Kro's voice sharpened into something icy.
"How dare you speak to me like this? Are you questioning my decisions now? You think you're the clever one?"
"If protocol is what matters, I'll apply properly—"
"Don't bother," she snapped. "Even if Poh accepted your application, I would not give you the position."
His face tightened.
"You're going to lose everything if you keep acting like this."
For the first time, he said her name without title.
"Kro—"
"I'll pretend this conversation never happened," she said, cutting over him. "That is the only blind eye I'm turning for you. Tomorrow you report to the marketing team. If you don't, I'll take it as your resignation."
Ukraine stood so abruptly the sofa shifted.
He wanted to say more.
Too much more.
But anger had swallowed the words before he could shape them.
He crossed to his desk, grabbed his bag, and stormed out of the office.
The door slammed.
Silence followed.
Kro lifted a hand to her chest and stood still in the middle of the room.
The anger drained out of her far too quickly.
What took its place was worse.
Sadness.
A sharp, aching sadness she had not wanted to admit even to herself. She hadn't wanted to let him go. That truth settled in her slowly, painfully.
And with it came another one:
she had begun to care about him.
Because his anger had hurt her.
***