I sigh in annoyance and half exasperation as I reclined back to the comfort of my swivel office chair.
Above the rims of my horn glasses, I keep my eyes on my laptop screen, letting a second sigh bleed into the air.
'How long do I have to keep up with this shit?' I think to myself, feeling the subtle urge to slam the monitor shut.
My boss, Ms. Jane, notice my discomfort. She rise from her own chair, pushing her laptop's monitor slightly. I couldn't keep my eyes away from the two water ballons that jiggled enticingly as she stood.
She knows I'm watching. A lecherous leer tugs at her lips as she turns to me.
'Yeah, I think she actually likes me watching, irrespective of location…' I try to avoid her gaze determinedly.
She saunters closer, the clicking sound of her heels breaking the quiet monotony; humming of air conditioners, soft erratic chimes which indicate notifications, and the tick-tack of someone typing occasionally.
A few colleagues look up and steal at a glance at me, then return to their businesses. A few still watch, already knowing what to expect. No one dares to speak however. Jane's a medieval tyrant.
'I can swear she got that behavior from a certain book…I just can't prove it yet,' I wonder, recalling a certain bald dude attributed to this saying.
I sit up as the clicking noises draw closer. My eyes stray to the lower right on my laptop screen.
'It's almost lunch time' I note, reveling inwardly. A smile grace my face even.
Yes, in case you're wondering. I'm the perfect personification of Belphegor. He's a Prince of Hell, infamously attributed to Sloth.
A thick strong scent of perfume hits me, draping me in a world nearly devoid of oxygen. I hold my breath, do my best to keep my smile, and turn to her.
The familiar obnoxious concoctions of different deodorants assault my nose without mercy, and the smile shrinks to a happy scowl.
"Sweetheart," Ms. Jane stops by my desk, her eyes full of concern and something else I can recognize quite readily, hidden behind those spectacles.
She slips a hand onto my shoulder, crossing to touch my other arm. Her hand eventually reach my chest, but I don't even shudder.
You may be getting a wrong signal here…I'm not gay. I still feel things, but…let's just say I've become familiar with this particular treatment.
"What's wrong?" she finally ask, striding to my back and slipping her second hand around neck. She cup my chin in her hands, upsetting my glasses in the process.
I shake my head slightly. She gets the message and release her playful grip around my jaw so I can speak. Before doing so, I push my glasses back up with an index.
"I'm waiting for the lunch break," I reply. My voice uneven, mirrors that of a drowning person; a bit urgent, edged with panic.
Mind you, I'm actually in danger of drowning. Not in liquid, but a poisonous blend of gases.
Jane laughs, her voice low and croaky, like that of an amphibian in heat. She caresses my neck 'lovingly' while I stifle the urge to grab my handkerchief and aid my poor nose.
"You're always waiting for the lunch break, and then you do virtually nothing after work…why bother coming to work then?"
I stare up at her quizzically. She laughs again, and my ears join in on the torment too. I can't vaguely describe it, but my best try would be a cross between a frog's croak and a bitch's bark. No pun intended.
From my vision below, I have an otherwise bizarre view here; I can see her overlarge nose hairs, bulgy eyes, lengthy lashes and- the inside of her nostrils.
I quickly look down, as my breakfast begins churning horribly I dare not wrinkle my face, Jane might like me but she could be a bit unpredictable.
What's more, she's a fierce Dominatrix. Don't ask me how I know.
"I've got bills to pay, if you don't care. And parents to look after too."
"Oh," Jane sounds surprised, and cocks her head to my side again, her eyelids raised. "You don't look like someone who'd take on responsibilities for anyone at all."
I shift my face away from hers, seeming flustered by the closeness. In reality, I'm running away from her scent. I'm not sure how much longer my nose can hold up before it starts bleeding.
"Well…I can't avoid them…if I don't do that, no one will," I reply, stealing a glance at my laptop to check the time again.
I could hear hums from my colleagues, some interested, others surprising and even a snort of disbelief.
Yeah, I'm sure that one came from Ruth, a blond with stunted growth, masculine figure and voice, and a stinky pussy.
Yeah…we have some shitty history together, so I'm pretty keen on that one.
Jane glances around, her eyes malevolent. However, everyone here is far too used to her game to make a single slip. She turns back to me, chuckling.
"Seems like I'm not the only one surprised here," she smiles broadly, leaning in closer. A few more inches and our lips will meet.
'Okay, now she's definitely doing this on purpose,' I keep my face neutral, playing cool. In reality, I'm not.
A heartbeat or two pass as I try to bear it. Her breath isn't bad as her perfumes, but to how humans normally smell, it still beats a record on the bad end.
My laptop chimes softly, and I inwardly release a litany of thanks to the god of time. "It's break time," I plant my feet into the ground and push lightly. My seat rolls away from Jane, but close enough to reach out to my desk. I lean sideward and use the cursor to click a red button labelled "Delete Application".
Without even switching if off, I close the monitor gently. With a mechanical smile and a wave, I rise and walk out the door. Everyone apart from a certain yandere lady standing, gazing at me with obsessed eyes, can see that I'm a haste to escape.
Don't ask why I judge her as a yandere. I have my reasons, too numerous and a bit horrible to mention.
Spoiler: I have no surviving ex-girlfriends.
Although, yanderes can be sweet sometimes, especially if she's far wealthier than you.
…
A few minutes later, I'm alone in the elevator. The corridors are mostly empty, because to some, the break has not begun officially.
I lean against the wall, and loosen my tie.
This is how my daily life looks like.
My name is Alan Greenbun. Funny, isn't it? I blame my ancestors anyway. You can imagine the sort of ridicule I've bore throughout my life for it.
I live a very boring life. But won't lie; I love it.
I work here, at the Webnovel International Headquarters, as an Editor. I review books and check their eligibility for a contract.
In fact, that's why I'm so frustrated today.
There's someone out there, who's writing a book that's so horribly lore-empty, just balderdash. That's the only thing I've seen that's more mundane than my current life.
The author has been applying for a contract, and by some cruel twist of fate, I keep on being the one to review it, and I've always and will always continue to reject it.
Reason? I can't allow any more humans to be tortured by it.
I may be extensively selfish, but at times I can be generous, especially as it costs me nothing but a click.
Today, I saw the same book; same synopsis, character names and all. Only the title and book cover were changed. As per procedure, I had to read through the contract application again.
Even though I only skimmed it, it was excruciating, no less.
The elevator doors slid open, the soft hiss of the pneumatic devices filling the air, a bit too loud. I think it's faulty. I should report to the Maintenance Department.
But I won't. Not because I can't, but because it would stress me, and earn nothing but thanks; maybe an award, but no extra money.
I walk past the security counter, nodding briefly to the spectacled lady sitting there. Her hair isn't all that sleek today, I notice.
I notice a lot of things, even without meaning to. When I was younger, my parents called it a talent, but I thought it a bother. It helped me well in my past, but not any longer.
Not that it matters any longer. My parents are both senile now, they don't remember me any longer, and still think they're at home with me and the others, and not some measly old people home.
My slight bright countenance darken when I remember them.
My siblings.
Long story cut short, true love is rare, if not fictionally impossible to find in real life. I've seen enough of life to prove that to myself over and over again.
I walk out of the doors, into the open street. A double-deckered bus park at bus stops, taxis speeding past to beat the streetlight. I head to the zebra crossing and wait for the light to turn red again.
I feel a budge. An uncomfortable tingling sensation on the back of my neck. I haven't felt that tingling since I left the Hood.
I can never mistake it.
I'm being watched.
But from where? My first suspicion is my glassy workplace. I turn around, and look back at it. The majestic glass skyscraper glitter like a huge mirror, flashing like from different angles into my eyes. The huge blue and black Webnovel logo perch atop on the top right, like some rainbow colored overgrown bird.
My eyes scan the many windows. Most are empty, and I can't keep searching. The building is very close to the road, and sun rays assault my eyes relentlessly.
Just as I make to snap my neck back downwards, I spot something alarming.
My eyes latch onto something bizarre. A very familiar dress fluttering in the wind, pink panties and badly wrinkled and sagging thighs
My mouth drop again in alarm, eyes widening in panic.
Only one thought linger in my mind, before it goes painfully blank.
'Why's Ms. Jane falling from the sky?!'