The First Encounter

As soon as she arrived at the apartment, she typed her password into the door. She couldn't shake off the confusion about how she ended up in another world, inhabiting someone else's body. Upon entering, she was amazed by the cleanliness of her room. As she looked around, she noticed a photo on the wall where she was receiving a medal. There was also a picture from her trip to Korea and Japan, and another with her college classmate. She tried to recall the memories behind these photos, but nothing came to mind. After examining the pictures, her gaze shifted to the bed, beside it is a small table and a lampshade. Without hesitation, she quickly made her way to the bed and lay down. The softness of the mattress embraced her, almost as if it was coaxing her to sleep, even though it was still early.

Before she could fully drift off to sleep, she got up and changed into her sleepwear. After changing, she cooked dinner and ate. She noticed that her trash can was full, so she packed it into a trash bag and went downstairs to dispose of it in the trash bin outside the building. When she returned upstairs, she was startled, a mix of surprise and fear overtaking her as she saw something unexpected. There, lying on the bed, a man who looked like someone who had just stepped out of a magazine. His dark hair, tousled from the pillow, framed his face, a few strands falling just above his furrowed brow. His thick lashes rested against his cheek, casting a gentle shadow over his skin, which looked smooth and almost golden in the soft light. He wore a fitted black shirt that showcased his broad shoulders and toned arms, paired with dark jeans that clung just right, and a black watch on his left wrist that made him look elegant. His face showed a deep, peaceful sleep, unaware of her presence. She shook her head, her mind racing with what to do next. Her eyes landed on the broom beside the trash can, and without a second thought, she grabbed it. She swung it at the man lying on her bed, the bristles of the broom striking his back with a sharp thud. Startled by the pain, the man jolted upright, his body reacting instinctively to the sudden strike.

"What do you think you are doing to me?" a man angrily asked her while he held the broom.

"I am the one who is supposed to ask that. What the he** you doing in my bed?" she retorted, her voice a strained tremor attempting to masquerade as steel.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

"Who are you too? Why are you in my bed? Are you a rapist? A thief?Get out! Get out before I call the Police to come here." Her knees trembled, threatening to buckle beneath her, yet she stood her ground, fueled by a primal instinct for survival.

With a quick, desperate swing, she aimed the broom at his shoulder. The man moved fast, dodging the strike easily. The broom swished through the air, missing him, and she stood there, wide open. While she keeps trying to strike him again, he goes backwards until he reaches outside. Suddenly the next door opened and a lady came out, the soft glow of the room accentuating her wavy red hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a fiery waterfall. The red sleepwear dress she wore clung to her figure with an effortless elegance, the rich color complementing the warmth of her hair. Her lips, a deep shade of red, seemed almost like a natural extension of her beauty, and when she smiled, it was impossible not to notice. Her skin, smooth and flawless, had a soft glow, almost like porcelain kissed by the warmth of the sun. She exuded a quiet, captivating charm, every detail about her accentuating the perfect balance of boldness and grace.

"Braxston! What's going on?" 

"Your boyfriend is out of his mind and sleeps in my bed."

"Are you drunk again? I told you not to come here anymore. We broke up already and I don't want to see you anymore."

"Please babe I can't live without you. I'll do anything for you." 

"Oh! I guess you guys need to talk and I'll just go back to my room." She quietly leaves the two strangers and goes back to her room. She tried to listen, but all she could make out were muffled murmurs. Then, she heard the unmistakable sound of the two of them entering the lady's room, the door creaking softly as they went inside.

"It's early in the morning but you look frustrated. Did something happen?" Maise asked, applying lipstick as she glanced at herself in the mirror, her expression curious yet casual.

"Nothing. Just a little thing happened last night but it's all good now."  Luna replied, her voice soft, as she rifled through her drawer, pulling out some documents.

Maise paused, raising an eyebrow. "By the way, have you finished our report? Our supervisor asked me yesterday to submit it today."

"What report?" 

Maise let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't tell me you forgot about it? Come on, Luna, what's going on with you? This is the first time we'll get scolded if we don't submit it today. You're always so on top of things."

"I'll submit it before this day ends, so don't worry." she assured her while trying to figure out what it is. 

In the middle of their conversation, Luna felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked up to find their supervisor standing there, her expression unreadable. "Come see me in my office," she said firmly.

"Yes, ma'am," Luna responded, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Their supervisor turned and walked ahead, leaving Luna to follow. Maise shot her a questioning look, silently asking, What now?

Luna met her gaze with a blank stare, shrugging lightly as she mouthed, I don't know.

"Pack your things," the supervisor said, her tone firm yet unyielding.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What?" she stammered, taken aback by the abruptness of her words.

"Am I being terminated?" Her voice cracked, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

The supervisor softened, sensing her distress. "No, you're not being fired. But didn't you remember what Mr. President told you? Starting today, you'll be working on the case he assigned to you. As for the pending report, I will talk to Maise today and tell her that she will finish it. I'll give her two more days to wrap it up."

She blinked, still overwhelmed, but listened intently.

"I recommended you to the president because I know you're capable of closing this case," she continued, her voice filled with a hint of reassurance. "I'm counting on you for this. From now on, you'll be sitting next to the President's son's office, overseeing his work closely. But remember—don't mention a word about this assignment to him. Do you understand?"

The weight of his words settled heavily upon her, yet she nodded, determined to rise to the challenge. She carried a box filled with her belongings, her heart racing as she made her way toward her new office. She walked briskly, her mind swirling with the uncertainty of the task ahead. As she turned the corner, she nearly collided with someone. Startled, she glanced up to see the two man, walking towards her.

"The maniac guy," she muttered under her breath, not realizing the words had slipped from her lips.

His eyes snapped toward her with a sharpness that cut through the tension of the moment. "What did you just say?" His voice was low, carrying an unmistakable edge of authority. He paused, his gaze intense. "Why are you here?"

She felt her pulse quicken, her words suddenly sounding more reckless in the air between them. The guy, standing beside him, glanced back and forth between them, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity, but he said nothing.

"Why?" she shot back, her tone now dripping with sarcasm. "Do you own this place? Because, the last time I checked, I'm employed here. What about you? Did you follow your girl here?" She raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, trying to provoke him, trying to get under his skin.

Before he could respond, she quickly added, her voice casual but laced with a hint of defiance, "Well, if you'll excuse me, I still have a lot of work to do." With a flick of her hair, she turned on her heel, her heart pounding as she walked away, not looking back, yet keenly aware of the sharp gaze still on her retreating figure.