The city was already alive by 7:45 a.m., but Aira Takamine was not.

She bolted down the sidewalk, uniform half-wrinkled, shoelaces loose, a slice of toast clenched in her mouth like it owed her money. The morning breeze slapped her cheeks as she mentally cursed everything that had led to this moment.

Being seventeen, a high school senior, and secretly the youngest tech CEO in Japan was bad enough. But being late to school because she stayed up till 3 a.m. fixing a server glitch? That was just cruel.

"One day—just one day—I want a normal morning!" she muttered through the toast, hopping over a puddle. "No code crashes. No powers. No chaos. Just boring, peaceful teenage misery—"

WHAM!

Her shoulder slammed into someone far taller and sturdier than she expected. Her entire world tilted as she stumbled backward, bag flying, toast launching, and heart dropping.

There was a sickening splash.

The first thing she saw was the paper cup spinning on the ground.

The second thing she saw was the coffee—rich, dark, and now soaking the front of an expensive charcoal-gray suit.

The third thing she saw was the man wearing it.

And he looked furious.

“…I… uh…” Aira stared up at him, frozen like a deer in designer headlights.

The man towered over her, dark hair perfectly slicked back, steel-colored eyes narrowing as he stared down at the latte damage on his chest. He looked like the kind of person who hadn’t been caught off-guard in a decade. The kind of person who never had to deal with clumsy schoolgirls and airborne toast.

“…Oops?” Aira offered, flashing a sheepish, innocent grin.

He didn’t answer. Just ran a hand down his ruined blazer with the calmness of someone who wanted to murder her… politely.

“You,” he finally said, voice low and dangerous, “just threw a drink on a stranger before 8 a.m.”

“I didn’t throw it!” she protested. “Physics did! Gravity! Centripetal latte force!”

His brow twitched.

“I’ll pay for the suit! I mean, the cleaning. I mean, whatever part of this disaster is financially recoverable…”

He didn’t move. Just stared.

And that’s when it hit her. The faint, buzzing static in her brain. The words that weren’t spoken—but still heard.

> She looks like a child. With the attitude of a caffeine tornado.

...Fascinating.

Aira blinked. “Wait. What?”

His eyes sharpened. “What did you say?”

“You think I’m fascinating.”

He stiffened. “I said nothing of the sort.”

“You thought it.”

ACHOO!

She covered her nose with a groan. Great. Of all days for her mind-reading to activate randomly, it had to be today. And as always, when she lied? She sneezed like a truth alarm.

He stared, arms crossed.

“Did you just sneeze… because you lied?”

“NO.”

ACHOO!

He looked… confused now. And a little amused.

“Well,” he said slowly, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve, “that was the most interesting coffee spill I’ve had all week.”

Aira’s cheeks turned red. “I really have to go. Like, really really.”

She turned on her heel and sprinted away without another word.

Behind her, the man adjusted his ruined jacket, watching her vanish into the crowd.

“Strange girl,” he muttered. “But somehow…”

He glanced at the crumpled business card in his hand—DreamByte Corp.

“…Oddly familiar.”

By lunchtime, Aira had convinced herself that the morning incident was just one of many unfortunate events in her chaotic life. A coffee-soaked stranger? Whatever. The chances she’d ever see him again were—

“Ms. Takamine,” the announcement crackled over the intercom, “please report to the principal’s office. Immediately.”

Dead silence fell across the classroom.

Even Rin paused mid-bite of his sandwich. “Whoa. What did you do this time?”

Aira forced a smile. “Probably... donated too much blood. Or saved a kitten too dramatically.”

Inside, she was already spiraling.

> They found out. It’s about the coffee. He’s probably a government spy. Or worse—a parent.

She stood, straightened her tie, and marched down the hallway like a soldier walking to her own execution.

---

The door creaked open.

And there he was.

Mr. Expensive Coffee Suit himself.

Seated casually in front of the principal’s desk. Dry-cleaned. Calm. Deadly.

The principal stood up with a smile.

“Aira, this is Mr. Hiroto Ayanami, CEO of Ayanami Global Holdings.”

Aira’s brain short-circuited. Ayanami… THE Ayanami?

That was the man who owned half the real estate in Tokyo, half the fashion industry, and possibly half the moon.

“We were just discussing a mentorship program,” the principal said. “Mr. Ayanami is here to offer a personal internship to a student. One with... potential.”

He didn’t look at her. Just sipped water calmly.

“But I spilled coffee on him,” Aira blurted. “This morning. I remember his buttons.”

The principal blinked. Hiroto gave her a sidelong glance.

“That was... a memorable introduction,” he said coolly.

“You’re still alive, though,” he added. “So it’s fine.”

The principal laughed nervously. “Mr. Ayanami believes in second chances.”

“No I don’t,” Hiroto said. “But I believe in efficiency.”

Aira was now certain he was part robot.

“Well, we’ll let you two talk,” the principal said, retreating like someone evacuating a bomb site.

The door clicked shut.

They were alone.

She straightened her skirt. “So. You’re a CEO. And now my boss?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You came here.”

“To return your ID.” He placed her school ID on the desk. “You dropped it after you spilled my entire identity in liquid form.”

Aira took the ID. “Thanks. And… sorry. About the latte ambush.”

“It was a cortado.”

“…That sounds worse.”

He studied her silently. “You’re not just a student, are you?”

Her heart jumped. “What makes you say that?”

“You have the eyes of someone who’s hiding a thousand passwords and five backup servers.”

Aira coughed. “I… um… like Sudoku?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You run a tech firm. DreamByte.”

“What? Me? That’s illegal. I'm like, twelve.”

“You’re seventeen.”

“I’m very mature for twelve.”

His eyes narrowed. “I Googled you.”

She froze.

“I run a cyber-security division,” he said smoothly. “You’re good. But not invisible.”

Aira felt the blood drain from her face.

“…So what now? You gonna expose me?”

“No.”

She blinked.

“I want to offer you something,” Hiroto said. “A challenge.”

She stared. “This isn’t a K-drama. You’re not gonna offer me marriage to repay the coffee debt, right?”

He didn’t smile. “I want you to intern under me. After school. Two weeks.”

Aira’s brain glitched. “WHAT?”

“I’m not asking. You have talent. Use it.”

“Why me?”

“Because I’m curious. And I don’t like mysteries walking around my city.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know me.”

“Exactly.”

He stood and buttoned his coat. “See you at 4 p.m. sharp. Don’t be late.”

Then he walked out, leaving her reeling.

---

Back in class, Rin leaned over and whispered, “So? Suspension or scholarship?”

Aira dropped her head on the desk.

“I think I just got... kidnapped into capitalism.”

At 4:00 PM sharp, Aira Takamine stood in front of the towering glass building that housed Ayanami Global Holdings.

She wore her school uniform, her bag slung over one shoulder, and the nervous energy of someone walking into a job interview she never applied for.

> “Why am I here? Why am I like this? Why didn’t I just fake a fever and hide under my bed?”

She took a breath.

> You’ve survived midterms, mother-level guilt trips, and three accidental hacker alerts. You can survive one CEO.

Probably.

Inside, the marble-floored lobby gleamed like a billionaire’s mirror. Aira walked up to the front desk.

The receptionist, sleek and cold like a museum sculpture, looked her over.

“You’re the student?” she asked.

Aira nodded. “I guess?”

“Top floor. Take the gold elevator.”

Of course it’s gold. How subtle.

She walked toward the exclusive elevator, her shoes echoing against the polished floor like someone guilty entering court.

The doors opened.

He was already inside.

Hiroto Ayanami stood near the back, suit crisp, hands in his pockets. Silent. Intimidating.

Aira stepped in like someone boarding a haunted house ride.

He didn’t speak. Neither did she.

The doors closed.

They ascended.

Silence.

Still silence.

She glanced sideways. “Soooo… are all CEOs this dramatic?”

He didn’t answer.

“You could at least hum elevator music.”

Still no reply.

“I spilled coffee on you. You’re legally required to make small talk until the trauma fades.”

Still nothing.

Then, without warning, the elevator shuddered.

Stopped.

Froze.

“Did you press anything?” Aira asked.

“I don’t need to press buttons,” he said flatly.

“Okay, James Bond.”

She jabbed a few. Nothing.

“Did your fancy elevator just break down?”

“It’s motion-sensitive. If it detects an internal security glitch or—”

The lights flickered.

Aira stared at him. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

“No.”

The lights turned red.

“…Okay, but like, emotionally?”

He sighed and pulled out his phone.

No signal.

She checked hers.

Also nothing.

Then: BANG.

The elevator jerked again and stopped completely.

“Nope,” she said, sliding down to sit on the floor. “I did not sign up for this.”

“You signed nothing,” he reminded.

She gave him a flat look. “How comforting.”

He didn’t sit. Just leaned back and loosened his tie slightly.

“You’re calm,” she noted.

“I’ve been in worse.”

“Define worse.”

“Last board meeting. The CFO wore sandals.”

She laughed—actually laughed.

He looked at her, mildly surprised.

“You’re not scared?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m terrified,” she said. “But this is still less stressful than my mom asking me about marriage proposals from CEOs.”

“…That’s oddly specific.”

Aira blinked. Oops.

“Just a joke,” she said quickly. “Totally random. Not connected to anything. Definitely not my secret-rich-CEO-family or anything like that. Ha ha.”

He squinted at her.

She coughed and pulled out a lollipop from her bag. “Want one? I carry bribes.”

He stared at the candy, then at her.

“I don’t eat sugar.”

“Of course you don’t,” she muttered. “You probably sleep on spreadsheets.”

“…I sleep on silk.”

“Do you say that to scare people?”

He tilted his head. “Does it work?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Honestly, a little.”

For a moment, they just sat in red-lit silence—her on the floor, him looking too composed for someone stuck in a steel box with a teenage hacker in uniform.

Then the elevator jerked.

Lights flickered.

Doors slowly opened—two inches. Then four.

Aira peeked through. “We’re stuck between floors.”

“Obviously.”

“…We could crawl out.”

“No.”

“Okay, Spider-Man.”

Another few moments passed.

Then he said quietly, “You’re not just a student. You’re used to emergencies.”

She looked up.

“You didn’t panic,” he said. “Even now. That’s rare.”

“I grew up with three younger brothers and a pet goat named Dynamite.”

“…I’m not sure if I should believe that.”

She smiled faintly. “You shouldn’t.”

Suddenly, with a final ding, the lights returned to normal.

The elevator doors opened fully.

Aira sighed in relief.

They stepped out together into a hallway filled with sleek, quiet luxury.

But before she could walk further, he said, “You handled yourself well.”

She looked up.

“That’s why I picked you.”

Aira blinked. “Picked me for what?”

He didn’t answer.

Just smirked—and walked away.

Leaving her standing there, heart pounding, head spinning, lollipop in hand.

> What. Just. Happened.