The moment Mr. Flame left the conference room, Saphirra immediately gathered her notes with trembling hands and slipped out of the conference room as quietly as she could. Her chest felt tight — the kind of pressure that came from embarrassment and confusion tangled together.
She didn't mean to overstep. She didn't even know half the people sitting in that room. Yet somehow, she had spoken without thinking, her passion for technology taking over her nerves.
Now, all she could think of was one thing — she needed to find Mr. Flame and apologize.
She hurried down the quiet corridor. Her heels clicked softly against the floor, echoing her racing heart. She kept rehearsing what to say in her head.
"Mr. Flame, I apologize for speaking out of turn. I didn't mean to interfere. It was just instinct."
She turned a corner — and stopped dead in her tracks.
Mr. Flame was already there, standing tall and motionless like a storm before it breaks. Laren stood in front of him, visibly tense. The usually calm and composed man looked pale, his hand nervously gripping the folder at his side.
The air between them was heavy.
Mr. Flame's tone was low but sharp enough to slice through the air. "Would you care to explain to me, Laren," he began, "why my meeting was attended by someone who doesn't even belong to the department?"
Laren swallowed hard. "S–sir, I—I was about to explain. I wasn't feeling well, and it was too sudden. I thought—"
"You thought," Mr. Flame cut him off, his gaze narrowing. "You thought it was acceptable to let someone take your place without informing me first?"
Laren stammered, his voice shaky. "She—Saphirra—she actually already agreed to work here, sir. I... I hired her as a part-timer. I was planning to finalize her schedule today. I wanted to place her in a department that wouldn't interfere with her current work at Soun."
The words spilled out like a desperate confession.
Mr. Flame stilled. His dark brows furrowed, and for a few seconds, no one dared to breathe. Then his head turned slightly — his sharp eyes finding Saphirra standing just a few steps away, frozen in place. He sensed her presence from the beginning she arrived there.
"I see," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerously calm tone. "So... this is the same woman who called my office to say she wasn't interested in working here."
Saphirra's breath hitched. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck and settling in her cheeks. The hallway suddenly felt suffocating. He remembered, of course, and the sarcasm is clear. She felt small in his intense gaze.
She wanted to explain — to tell him it wasn't what he thought. That she only changed her mind because she realized she couldn't keep holding herself back. That she wanted to prove something, maybe to herself, to him... her husband — she didn't even know anymore.
She opened her mouth. "Sir, I—"
But he cut her off, his voice smooth but commanding.
"Laren."
Laren straightened, almost out of reflex. "Y–yes, sir?"
Mr. Flame didn't look away from Saphirra as he spoke, his expression unreadable — a mix of amusement, challenge, and something else darker that she couldn't name.
"Assign her as my new secretary."
The words hung in the air like a sudden drop of thunder.
Laren blinked, his mouth parting slightly. "S–sir?"
"You heard me," Mr. Flame said, turning fully toward him now. "Since she already took the liberty of involving herself in executive affairs, she might as well handle them properly. You said she's competent — let's put that to the test."
Laren's eyes darted nervously between them. "But sir, that's—"
"That's final," Mr. Flame interrupted, his tone flat and absolute.
Laren shut his mouth immediately.
Saphirra stood there, her heart thudding so hard she could feel it in her throat. She wanted to say something — anything — but her voice betrayed her. All she could manage was a faint nod, her mind racing with disbelief.
Mr. Flame finally turned to her, and for a moment, his eyes softened — just a little. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Welcome to Aetherion, Miss Saphirra," he said smoothly. "Let's see if you can handle what you've just stepped into."
Then he brushed past her, his cologne lingering faintly in the air — rich, cold, and intoxicating.
Saphirra stood frozen in place, her mind blank except for one thought:
What... did I just get myself into?
Laren exhaled heavily beside her, muttering under his breath, "He really did it..." before sighing and giving her a half-apologetic smile.
"You'd better brace yourself," he said softly, "because working under Mr. Flame isn't just a job... It's survival."
Saphirra's lips parted, her pulse quickening as she tried to process what had just happened. She can't believe he's letting it happen. "Wait—what?" she breathed out, her voice trembling slightly. "Laren, he can't just—"
Laren looked at her, his usual friendly expression now mixed with pity. The hallway had gone quiet after Mr. Flame's departure, leaving behind only the hum of the air conditioner and the faint echo of her words.
Saphirra stepped closer, her voice lowering. "Laren, please. You know this isn't what I wanted. I'm not even supposed to be a secretary. Can't you talk to him again? Maybe he'll reconsider—just find another secretary, someone more experienced. I'll take any other position in any department. I promise I'll do my best, I'll prove I can handle it."
Her eyes pleaded with him — desperate, searching for any hint of hope.
But Laren only sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he gave her a small, helpless shake of the head. "You don't understand, Saphirra," he said quietly, his tone serious this time. "When Mr. Flame makes a decision, no one argues. Not the board, not HR, not even me. His word becomes the company's law the moment it leaves his mouth."
Saphirra blinked, unable to hide the frustration tightening in her chest. "But that's not fair—"
"I know," Laren cut in softly, his voice full of sympathy. "But fairness doesn't work the same way here. Not under him."
He forced a thin, uneasy smile — one that barely reached his eyes. "I'm really sorry, Saphirra. I should've seen this coming. Maybe I shouldn't have asked you that favor... but it's too late now. Once he decides, it's sealed. But I'll try to find someone capable of handling the position, and as soon as I find someone, then I'll talk to him."
Saphirra's heart sank. She looked down, gripping her notepad and pen lightly, trying to steady her breathing. Her thoughts swirled in chaos — how did a simple favor turn into this?
Laren exhaled heavily and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come on," he said in a resigned tone. "Let's get this done. You'll need to sign the necessary forms at HR so they can update the system and issue your ID. After that..." he trailed off, forcing another tight smile, "...you'll officially be Mr. Flame's new secretary."
Saphirra looked up at him, her throat dry, but she nodded weakly. She didn't want to argue anymore. The thought of working under Mr. Flame — just thinking about that — made her stomach twist in both fear and confusion.
They began walking down the hall in silence, their footsteps echoing softly. Laren kept glancing at her with a mix of guilt and worry, while Saphirra tried to mask the whirlwind of emotions in her chest.
Every step toward HR felt heavier than the last.
When they finally reached the office, Laren pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter. "It'll only take a few minutes," he said quietly. "Just... keep calm, alright? Also, when your duty starts, make sure you don't show him you're nervous. He notices everything."
Saphirra gave a faint nod and stepped inside, her heart pounding. The clerk handed her a stack of documents, and as she picked up the pen to sign her name under the title Secretary of the CEO – Mr. Flame, her hand trembled slightly.
How did things end up like this?
Laren stood beside her, silently watching as she signed. When she was done, he offered her a reassuring smile — though it looked more like he was trying to reassure himself.
"Welcome to Aetherion's frontline," he murmured, his voice tinged with irony.
Saphirra forced a small smile back, her chest tightening as the realization settled in. There was no turning back now.
______________________________________
(LUMINARA ENTERTAINMENT)
The cafeteria buzzed softly with chatter, the hum of air-conditioning mixing with the clinking of trays and utensils. Travier and Vanessa entered together, still in costume from the morning shoot. He carried his usual calm demeanor, though his faint smile betrayed an unusual ease — something even Vanessa noticed.
They joined the line, the smell of roasted beef and buttered bread filling the air. "I'll pay for both," Travier said casually as he reached for his wallet.
Vanessa blinked, surprised. "You sure? You don't have to—"
"I insist," he cut in with a light smirk. "You did great in that emotional scene earlier. Consider it my treat."
"Wow," she teased, raising an eyebrow. "The cold, mysterious Travier Voldz is actually buying someone lunch. Mark the calendar!"
He chuckled, a deep sound that made her grin widen. "Don't get used to it," he said. "I just happen to be in a good mood today."
They found a table near the window, sunlight spilling across the polished surface. Vanessa stirred her drink, eyeing him. "You've changed a bit, you know," she said between bites. "You're not as gloomy or distant as before. What happened? Did someone knock some sense into you?"
Travier leaned back, resting his arm on the chair. "Maybe I just realized that dwelling on the past doesn't help me improve," he replied, his tone lighter than usual. "Someone told me that once."
Vanessa tilted her head, curious. "That someone sounds wise."
"She can be," he admitted, smiling faintly — almost unconsciously.
Their conversation flowed naturally after that — jokes about their director's overdramatic reactions, the number of retakes they'd survived, even random stories from the set. For the first time in a while, Travier found himself laughing freely, the tension in his chest loosening.
At one point, Vanessa snorted after accidentally spilling a bit of her drink. "Oh great, I'm embarrassing myself now," she muttered.
Travier handed her a napkin, shaking his head. "You're hopeless."
"And you're finally smiling," she shot back, flashing him a grin that made him roll his eyes but not deny it.
Outside the window, the sun was high — bright, almost blinding — reflecting off the glass panels of nearby buildings. Travier didn't notice the untouched lunch box sitting forgotten inside his bag, wrapped carefully by Saphirra that morning. He was too caught up in the moment — in the light laughter, the easy warmth of companionship he hadn't felt in a long time.
Vanessa leaned forward, tapping her straw against his glass. "See? Told you laughing suits you better than brooding."
He chuckled again, shaking his head, but this time, it lingered — soft, real, and strangely freeing.
The walk back to the studio was calm — the kind of quiet shared between two people who didn't need to fill every second with words. Vanessa hummed softly beside Travier, her energy uncontainable even after lunch. He, on the other hand, kept his hands in his pockets, the corners of his mouth still curved faintly upward.
As they entered the set, the familiar scent of stage paint, coffee, and faint dust filled the air. The crew members were already bustling about, adjusting lights, checking cameras, and setting props back in place. Mr. Yelric, their director, stood near the monitors, tapping his pen against his clipboard. When he spotted them, his eyes lit up with an almost childlike excitement.
"Well, look who's back!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands once before striding toward them. "Perfect timing — I've got some great news!"
Vanessa immediately perked up, her curiosity written all over her face. Travier raised a brow, half expecting another last-minute script change.
Mr. Yelric grinned, holding out the clipboard like it contained treasure. "We've finally gotten permission to shoot outside the studio — in real, open locations. No more confined backdrops for a while!"
Vanessa gasped dramatically, her eyes widening. "You're serious? Like actual streets? Cafés? Maybe even the park scenes?"
"Exactly!" Mr. Yelric chuckled, watching her excitement like a proud father. "We'll be filming at various public spots starting next week. It's going to give the movie a much more authentic feel."
Vanessa squealed in delight, jumping a little in place. "Finally! I've been dreaming about this part!" she said, her voice bright with enthusiasm.
Travier couldn't help but laugh quietly, shaking his head. Her energy was contagious — something about her unfiltered happiness made the air lighter around her. "You really love this job, huh?" he teased, crossing his arms.
Vanessa turned to him, mock-offended. "Of course! Don't you? Come on, Travier, it's going to be amazing. Real settings, real energy!"
"I guess it'll be... refreshing," he admitted, the word escaping with a small chuckle.
Mr. Yelric watched the two with a knowing grin. It wasn't long ago that Travier would've stood with a stoic expression, giving minimal reactions to everything. But now, he seemed — different. Softer, more open.
The director clasped his hands together. "Well, since both of you have been doing a remarkable job — especially with that emotional scene earlier — I think we deserve a little celebration. Nothing grand, just a dinner with the crew to honor our progress."
Vanessa turned to Travier immediately, eyes narrowing playfully. "You're not skipping this one, right?" she asked, hands on her hips.
Travier blinked. "Skipping?"
"You skipped the last three or two gatherings," she reminded him with an accusing grin. "You always say you're tired or have something to do."
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly caught. "I— uh, well..."
Mr. Yelric raised an amused eyebrow. "Come on, Travier. You've been working hard — you can spare one evening. It's good for morale."
Vanessa folded her arms, waiting expectantly. Travier could feel both of their eyes on him, and for a moment, he considered declining again — like he always did. Crowded dinners, loud chatter, and flashing cameras and noises weren't his comfort zone.
But then he saw the faint, hopeful smile on Vanessa's face. And maybe it was the laughter from earlier, or the feeling that he hadn't had a good evening in a while — either way, something inside him softened.
"I'll... try to join," he said finally, his voice calm but genuine.
Vanessa blinked in surprise, then broke into a triumphant smile. "Did I just hear that right? You'll try to join?"
"Yeah," Travier replied, scratching the side of his neck awkwardly. "No promises, but... I'll make an effort this time."
Mr. Yelric laughed heartily, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, son! We'll count that as a yes."
Vanessa nudged Travier playfully as they headed toward the dressing rooms to prepare for the next scene. "See? You're finally learning how to live a little," she teased.
Travier chuckled under his breath, shaking his head but not denying it. For the first time in a long while, the thought of being around people — of not isolating himself — didn't seem so bad.
Outside, the set lights glowed warm and soft, like the first sign of change quietly blooming in the middle of his ordinary routine.
____________________________
The sun had already begun its descent, spilling golden light through the high studio windows. The set was quieter now, emptied of the frantic rush that filled it earlier. Technicians were winding up cables, lights were dimmed to half their glow, and the air carried a faint hum of exhaustion mixed with satisfaction.
Travier sat alone on one of the benches near the corner of the set, his jacket slung lazily over the backrest. His hair was slightly disheveled after hours under the hot studio lights, and sweat glistened faintly along his temple. In his hand was his phone, screen lit, the cursor blinking in the text box.
"Hey, I might come home late tonight. There's a small celebration after filming..."
He typed it slowly, staring at the message for a moment. His thumb hovered above the send button.
He could almost imagine Saphirra's gentle expression — how she would probably smile and say, 'That's fine, just don't skip dinner.' Yet a small tug of guilt sat heavy in his chest. She'd probably cooked again, like she always did. He could already picture her waiting at the table, that quiet patience of hers that never demanded anything yet always lingered.
He sighed quietly, leaning back against the bench. Maybe he could just skip the party later, head home after everyone else left.
But then, another thought crept in. Vanessa's face when he promised to come. The expectation in her eyes. The way Mr. Yelric's laughter carried the whole crew's relief after weeks of tight deadlines. It wasn't just a party — it was appreciation. A small reward.
Still, his thumb never pressed send.
"Travier!"
The familiar, lively voice snapped him from his thoughts. He looked up and saw Vanessa waving from across the room, her bag slung over one shoulder and her hair tied in a messy bun. She looked radiant even in exhaustion — that kind of energy that never seemed to fade.
"You're zoning out again!" she said with a grin as she approached, tilting her head curiously. "We need to go — the director's waiting at the entrance. You don't wanna be late, do you?"
Travier blinked, lowering his phone and quickly locking the screen. "Oh— right. Yeah." He tucked the phone into his pocket and stood, brushing invisible dust off his pants. "I was just... thinking about something."
Vanessa gave a teasing look. "About what? Don't tell me you're debating whether to join the celebration or not again."
He smirked lightly, trying to dodge her gaze. "You could say that."
"Well, stop debating. You already said you'd try, remember?" she reminded him with that confident grin, grabbing his wrist playfully and tugging him toward the exit.
He chuckled under his breath, letting her pull him. "Yeah, yeah, I remember."
As they stepped out of the studio, the hallway lights flickered softly — that transition between day and evening when the world looked half-awake. Crew members passed them, chatting excitedly about the celebration, and someone called out, "Don't forget to bring Travier this time, Vanessa!"
Vanessa laughed and called back, "Already got him!"
Travier could only shake his head with a half-smile, following her through the glass doors that opened to the building's front entrance. The golden light outside had shifted to a soft amber hue, the sky painted with streaks of pink and violet. The gentle breeze met his skin as they stepped out, carrying the faint scent of city smoke and distant rain.
The rest of the crew was already gathered by the main gate, waiting — some leaning on cars, others chatting with excitement about where they'd go. Mr. Yelric waved at them from near his car, smiling widely.
"Finally! The stars of the film decided to show up!" the director called jokingly.
Vanessa laughed while Travier just rubbed the back of his neck with a modest grin. "Sorry, sir, had to drag him out," she teased.
Mr. Yelric chuckled. "Good job, Vanessa. I was almost betting he'd sneak out the back door again."
Travier smiled faintly, hands in his pockets, his phone now a quiet weight he tried to ignore. Maybe later he'd text Saphirra — tell her everything. For now, though, as he watched the team chatting and laughing under the amber light, something inside him whispered that maybe, just for tonight, he could stay.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt to forget the guilt for a little while.