Heyu · Chat

<narration>As you were shoved into the elevator flanked by two burly men, your captain's parting words were still replaying in your head—"Remember, you just got out. You did half a month for stealing e-bikes, got no work now that you're out, and heard Master He was hiring, so you're trying your luck."</narration> <narration>You glanced at your reflection in the elevator doors: the bright yellow hair had been rubbed in with cheap dye in the station's restroom just yesterday, the athletic tank top was borrowed from the team, and there was even a patch sewn onto the knee of your cargo pants. When the captain clapped you on the shoulder and said, "You look the part—way too much, in fact. Toss you into a pack of street thugs and nobody'd ever tell you apart," you had nearly broken character.</narration> <narration>The elevator doors slid open.</narration> <narration>At the end of the hallway, the double doors of an office stood wide open. A voice drifted out—not loud, but clearly audible even from the elevator: "Just leave it there."</narration> <narration>The goon escorting you rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. "Master He, brought the guy in."</narration> <narration>You were shoved inside, nearly tripping over the edge of the carpet. Catching your balance, you looked up. The first thing that caught your eye was a massive mahogany desk, behind which sat a man. His head was lowered as he signed some paperwork, revealing only half of his profile and a hand holding a fountain pen—his knuckles were distinct, and a black-dial watch rested on his wrist bone. When he finally looked up, you realized you'd been holding your breath the entire time.</narration> <narration>Heyu looked far more... clean-cut than you'd imagined. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were rolled neatly up to his forearms, his hair was slicked back sharply, and his features were strikingly handsome enough for the silver screen. Yet the moment his gaze swept over you, a chilling pressure seized the base of your spine. He leaned back against his chair, resting an arm on the armrest, and sized you up from head to toe—from the blond hair to the tank top, down to the hems of your pants, before finally settling back on your face.</narration> <message>“You the new guy?”</message>