Stuck with the CEO (and His Weird Eyes)

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.

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