The morning kind of unfolded in these quiet layers. Routine stuff on top, but there were undercurrents that Minjae just couldn't shake off, you know.
He showed up right after eight. His coat was still damp from that drizzle outside. He slipped into his usual spot by the window. The workstation looked exactly like he'd left it. Tidy. Precise. Untouched. Almost.
But something new was there waiting for him.
This small ceramic cup sat next to his keyboard. Steam curled up gently from the rim. The air had this chamomile scent, mixed with something faintly floral. Not the cheap vending machine tea. No, this was something chosen on purpose. Brought here with real intention.
Minjae's eyes scanned the floor. Nobody looked his way. But he already knew who it was from.
Ha Seori's footsteps came closer a second later. She had a folder in her hands. Her face was calm, but her cheeks had this slight color at the edges. She put the folder down next to him. Her moves were quick, all professional.
Thought you could use this, she said.
Her voice stayed even. But that pause after gave her away a bit. She started reorganizing the stack of printouts by the filing tray. They didn't even need it. Her hand flicked at her sleeve briefly. Then, as she turned to go, her gaze caught his. Quick. Unguarded. Almost like she was asking something without words.
Minjae wrapped his hands around the cup. The warmth soaked into his palms. Into the spaces between his fingers. By human standards, it was just a simple gesture. But it wasn't meaningless at all.
He took a sip. The taste was mellow. Soothing. A small kindness, given quietly. No strings attached.
It unsettled him more than he'd admit, really.
By noon, all those spreadsheets and regression models had him buried deep in focus. He hardly noticed the time passing. Until Yuri showed up with this small box.
Skipped lunch again, she said. One eyebrow raised. Her voice had that teasing lilt. But her eyes showed real concern.
I was getting to it, Minjae said.
Mm. Sure. She put the box in front of him and opened it up. Dumplings, arranged neatly. Still warm. I figured you'd be busy, she added.
Minjae paused for a second. Then he murmured, Thanks.
They sat by the smaller breakroom window. Afternoon light poured through the glass. It cut the city into these shifting streaks of brightness. They ate in quiet. No chatter. No forced small talk. Just the sound of chopsticks clinking. And the faint hum of traffic from below.
Yuri didn't push for conversation. But her glance had this quiet question he couldn't answer. What's going on in your head, Minjae. Why do you always seem like you're somewhere else.
He looked back at the skyline. He couldn't explain it. Not without spilling truths she wasn't ready for, anyway.
Later that afternoon, Yura came over to his desk. Her arms were loaded with reports. Her movements were precise. Her tone clipped, but warm around the edges.
I reviewed the project data you flagged, she said. There were inconsistencies I figured you'd want to see.
Minjae flipped through the pages. Her notes were sharp. Every discrepancy marked neatly. She'd caught the same anomalies he had. And even more.
You're thorough, he said. His voice softened a little. This is good.
Their hands brushed when she handed him the last sheet. An accident. Barely a second long. But the warmth stuck in his chest long after she stepped back.
Let me know if you want help digging deeper, she said. Her expression stayed unreadable.
I will.
Then she was gone. Leaving him with silence. And a stack of reports he couldn't focus on much.
By the coffee machine, the whispers were picking up.
Have you noticed how those three always end up around him.
I thought I was imagining it. A laugh followed. It's like an office drama or something.
He doesn't even react.
Or maybe that's the point. Playing it cool.
Their voices weren't mean. Just curious. Teasing, sure. But with genuine interest mixed in. The air around him had shifted. Subtle. But you couldn't deny it.
Minjae had built his life on staying unnoticed. Now he was turning into the center of something he didn't know how to name.
Far from all that soft office gossip rhythm, in this hidden conference room that wasn't even on the directories, Rennor scrolled through streams of encrypted data.
Another dead end.
We traced a shell through Singapore, but it stops in Zurich again, his assistant reported.
Rennor leaned back. His jaw tight. Every lead loops into nothing. No signatures. No drift. It's like chasing a shadow that doesn't even cast one.
The map on the wall glowed with connections. Hundreds of corporate affiliations blinking into grey voids.
He's real, Rennor muttered. But buried so deep the system itself looks away.
Frustration cut sharp at the edges of his calm. But he wasn't ready to stop. Not yet.
By the time the office emptied out and the lights dimmed, Minjae was still at his desk. Reports stacked neatly. The tea cup empty now. That faint scent gone.
He sat there still. Listening to the silence. The day replayed in fragments. Seori's shy offering. Yuri's quiet company. Yura's sharp diligence. Three gestures, all different. But alike in one way. They asked nothing from him.
Humans called it affection.
To Minjae, it felt foreign. Strange not because it hurt. But because it didn't. Warmth without any demand. Closeness that didn't burn.
He turned to the window. The city stretched out in scattered lights. Blurred by evening rain.
For the first time in centuries, he thought that maybe not all warmth had to be fire.
And yet, beneath it all, his secret stayed like an iron wall.
Between himself and the world pressing gently closer. Silent. Immovable. Unbroken.