The gentle chime of the café's door faded behind her as Saphirra stepped inside, the scent of roasted beans and vanilla syrup wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans.
"Good morning, Ms. Saphirra," the cashier greeted with a grin. "Same as usual?"
Her lips curved into a soft smile. "Yes, please."
Saphirra waited for her order after paying, and she began searching for a seat, her gaze drifting toward the windows where sunlight streamed across polished wood. That's when a sharp, frustrated voice broke through the hum of the café.
"Do you realize what you've done?"
Saphirra's head turned instinctively. At a nearby table, a man in a tailored suit stood tall, broad-shouldered, every inch of him radiating authority. His jaw was set, his dark brows furrowed, and even from a distance, his presence was commanding. Across from him sat another man, shoulders hunched, clearly enduring a verbal lashing.
"You approved this without even confirming with me," the suited man snapped, his voice low but cutting. "Do you understand the damage this could cause? A single flaw in programming at this scale doesn't just cost money—it costs trust."
The other man murmured apologies, staring down at the table.
Saphirra's gaze flickered to the sleek tablet in the suited man's hand. On the glowing screen was a new tech program schematic—complex, full of data streams and interface coding. Her frown deepened as her eyes scanned over it.
"That's wrong... the algorithm loop is unstable... and the encryption is layered backward."
She whispered under her breath, almost out of habit, quietly listing off the flaws she saw and how they should be corrected. "If they adjusted the loop timing and reversed the sequence, it would..."
Her voice trailed, realizing too late she wasn't alone.
The man in the suit froze mid-sentence, his eyes snapping to her. He had heard.
Saphirra's breath caught. Their tables were only a few feet apart, close enough that her muttering had reached him. She immediately stiffened, clutching her cup, and turned away to find another seat, cheeks warm with embarrassment.
But then—
"Wait."
The word rang with authority, not a request but a command.
Saphirra stopped in her tracks, wide-eyed, heart skipping. Slowly, she turned back.
The man was staring directly at her now, his dark eyes sharp with curiosity and something unreadable. He set his tablet down with deliberate care, the tension in his posture shifting.
"You..." he said, voice lower this time, measured. "What did you just say?"
Saphirra blinked quickly, forcing a nervous smile as she clutched her coffee cup. "I—I didn't say anything," she murmured, her voice soft but uneven. "You must've misheard."
The suited man's jaw tightened, his patience clearly thin. He rolled his eyes with a frustrated scoff. "Don't play games with me."
Before she could react, he pushed the tablet toward his subordinate, then took a slow step forward. His polished shoes clicked against the tiled floor, and with each step, the space between them shrank.
Saphirra instinctively stepped back, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. The café suddenly felt too small, her palms clammy against the warm paper cup. The man's gaze at her was so intense that her fingers started to tremble on their own, but she clenched her hand at her side.
The customers nearby keep stealing glances in their direction; they can feel the tension, but the man wasn't bothered at all.
He stopped just a breath away, towering slightly over her. His gaze was sharp, intense, but not cruel—it was the look of a man who demanded answers, a man unaccustomed to being ignored.
Up close, she could see the strong lines of his face, the way his dark hair is styled upward in a sleek. His cologne was subtle but undeniably masculine, wrapping around her senses.
Her throat went dry. For a brief, shameful moment, she forgot she was a married woman—forgot Travier, forgot everything except the man standing before her.
She quickly forced herself to look away, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I really didn't say anything," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly.
The suited man tilted his head, studying her. His eyes darkened with intrigue, his tone low as he spoke again.
"Funny. You look like someone who knows exactly what she's talking about."
"Mr. Flame," a nervous voice cut in.
The suited man's sharp gaze flicked sideways as his subordinate stepped closer, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "Please, sir... You must calm down. People are staring." His tone was quiet but pleading, as if defusing a ticking bomb.
The subordinate turned to Saphirra immediately, his expression full of apology. "I'm so sorry, miss. My boss... he gets carried away sometimes."
Saphirra blinked, the words sinking in. Mr. Flame? She looked back at the intense man who still loomed over her. His sharp suit, his commanding presence, that impatient authority—her mind pieced it together. He's not just some businessman... he must be a CEO.
Her lips curved into a calm, polite smile. "It's fine," she said softly, even though her pulse still hadn't settled. Her gaze lingered on Mr. Flame for just a moment longer.
The subordinate seemed relieved by her composure. His own smile softened. "If I may ask... would you consider sharing your thoughts with us?" His tone was gentle, respectful, the opposite of his boss's brashness.
Saphirra hesitated, biting her lip. Part of her wanted to walk away, to stay in her safe little bubble. But another part—the one that had always been curious, always observant—urged her not to waste this chance.
Finally, she gave a small nod. "Alright."
The subordinate quickly pulled up the tablet, holding it out for her. "This is the core," he explained, bringing up the schematic of their Advanced System Intelligence program. Lines of code and interface diagrams filled the screen, glowing with complexity.
Saphirra's eyes scanned over it, her mind already tracing the errors she had seen earlier.
And slowly, as her voice steadied, she began to explain.
Saphirra's fingers hovered above the tablet as though she might trace the errors directly on the glass. "Here," she said softly, tapping at the section of code. "The loop is unstable—you've got it running against its own cycle, which will cause the system to overload once it hits multiple data requests."
The subordinate's brows shot up. "Overload... that explains why the test run crashed at stage five..."
Saphirra nodded, her tone gentle but firm as she continued, "And the encryption layer—it's inverted. Instead of securing the inputs, you're locking down the outputs. It'll look stable at first, but the entire system will be exposed from the back end. Anyone with half a mind could exploit it."
The subordinate's jaw dropped slightly, then he hurried to take notes. "Incredible... you're right. How did we miss that?"
Mr. Flame, however, hadn't moved. He stood tall, arms crossed, his dark eyes locked on her.
Saphirra shifted under his stare, but pushed herself to go on. "If you reverse the encryption sequence, then reset the loop timing by—" she hesitated, looking for the right word, "—by aligning it to the data's natural rhythm, it should stabilize. Think of it as... breathing with the system instead of choking it."
The subordinate let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "That's... brilliant."
But Saphirra didn't smile. She stayed modest, lowering her gaze. "I just happened to notice, that's all."
Silence stretched for a beat before Mr. Flame finally spoke, his voice low, cutting through the space like a blade.
"You 'just happened' to notice flaws my entire team overlooked?"
Saphirra flinched, unsure if it was an accusation or a reluctant praise. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Mr. Flame's gaze softened just slightly, though his posture remained commanding. "You're a bad liar," he said flatly, almost as if it annoyed him to admit it.
Her heart skipped. The way he looked at her—it wasn't admiration, not quite. It was something heavier, an intensity that made her chest tighten.
"I..." she began, but her voice trailed off.
The subordinate glanced nervously between them, then quickly filled the silence. "Mr. Flame, sir—should we... perhaps invite her to consult further? Even temporarily?"
Mr. Flame didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained on Saphirra, sharp and unyielding, as if weighing her very soul.
Finally, he said, "We'll see."
Saphirra's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head. "No... no, I really can't. I still have work to do, and honestly—I don't think I can help that much." Her hand rose unconsciously to rub her arm, nerves bubbling beneath her skin.
The subordinate chuckled softly, as if trying to put her at ease. "Miss, forgive me, but you've already helped more than you realize. This project—" he lowered his voice, glancing around before leaning in slightly, "—costs millions. What you pointed out... could've saved us a catastrophic failure."
Her chest tightened. Still, she shook her head again, more gently this time. "I appreciate your kindness, but I shouldn't... I'm not the person you think I am."
The subordinate gave her a reassuring smile. "You clearly know more than you give yourself credit for. May I ask—what do you do for work? If we knew your schedule, perhaps we could adjust. And of course," his tone lightened, "you'd be compensated."
Saphirra hesitated, her lips parting slightly before she sighed and answered. "I'm... just a makeup artist and stylist. At Soun Company Studio."
The subordinate's eyes lit up in recognition. "Soun Company? That's one of the biggest modeling studios in the country!" He grinned, clearly impressed. "No wonder—you must be incredibly talented to be working there."
Saphirra smiled faintly, her cheeks warming at the praise, though her heart still felt conflicted.
Meanwhile, Mr. Flame tilted his head, one dark brow arching. His sharp gaze never left her.
'A makeup artist?'
His mind replayed the way she'd dissected their program with uncanny precision. Her explanations had been effortless, fluent, like someone who lived and breathed systems design—not fashion or cosmetics.
His stare deepened, not hostile now, but calculating. She's a puzzle piece that doesn't fit... but once I find where she belongs, the picture will change.
And for the first time that morning, Mr. Flame's lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile.
It didn't take long before Saphirra's phone rang. She glanced at the screen—it was one of the staff from the studio.
Her eyes widened slightly. "Ah... duty calls," she said with an apologetic smile, slipping her phone into her hand. "I really need to get back. Thank you for the coffee break."
The subordinate nodded politely, bowing his head just a little. "Of course, Miss. Thank you for your time. I hope this isn't the last."
Saphirra smiled softly, then gave Mr. Flame a quick, respectful glance before turning to leave. As the café door closed behind her, the faint sound of the bell lingered.
Mr. Flame, however, stayed silent the whole time, his piercing eyes following her until she disappeared from view.
The subordinate chuckled knowingly, leaning back in his seat with a teasing grin. "She's amazing, isn't she? Sharp, graceful, and beautiful too. Not something you see every day, boss."
Mr. Flame's jaw tightened, and he rolled his eyes with irritation. "Tch. Enough nonsense." He stood from his chair, his presence radiating command. Without looking at his subordinate, he muttered, "If you're my right hand, then start acting like it. Do something useful instead of wasting time on flattery."
The subordinate's grin fell, and he nodded nervously; he wisely kept quiet.
Mr. Flame adjusted his suit jacket, his expression unreadable now, and walked toward the exit. As he pushed open the door, his last thought lingered silently in his mind:
'She's not just a make-up artist... and I'll make sure, no such talented person will escape... me'