By the time Aira followed Hiroto Ayanami into the CEO’s office, her brain had abandoned all attempts at logical reasoning.
The office was stupidly large. Like, “you could host a fashion show or hide a small country’s debt in here” large. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Minimalist black furniture. A desk that probably cost more than her entire school. The kind of room that didn’t just say power—it flexed it.
He walked straight to his desk and gestured casually toward the sleek black leather chair opposite.
“Sit.”
She hesitated. “Should I sign a will first or…?”
“No need,” he said without looking at her. “I don’t kill students on Wednesdays.”
She sat, awkwardly adjusting her skirt, her bag still slung over one shoulder like a protective charm.
“Let’s start,” he said.
“With what? You still haven’t told me why I’m here.”
He tapped a button on his desk. A giant screen behind him lit up. It displayed… her.
Well, her school file.
Name. Grades. Club records. And—dear god—her browser history?
“Okay,” she said. “Creepy stalker mode activated.”
“I run a global empire,” he said. “I don’t make decisions without research.”
She squinted. “You researched my baking blog?”
“I liked the lemon tart recipe.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You read LattesBeforeLies?!”
He looked bored. “I read everything.”
Aira tried to collect her thoughts. They scattered like terrified hamsters.
“You hacked my blog,” she accused.
“I didn’t need to. Your password was your favorite anime character.”
“…Fair.”
He pressed another button. A second screen lit up.
This time, it showed a digital map. Blueprints. Server lines. Data flow paths.
“You’re a coder,” he said. “A good one. Too good for a high schooler.”
She fidgeted. “I watch a lot of YouTube.”
“You breached my company’s firewalls last month.”
She froze.
“I did not!”
Pause.
“Okay, yes, but only a little breach! Just testing a theory!”
“You triggered six silent alarms.”
“I was curious! Also, your coffee menu is impossible to navigate.”
He stared.
“I just wanted to see if the ‘secret blend’ was real,” she muttered.
“It is.”
“…Oh.”
Silence again.
Then, he leaned forward, eyes sharp.
“I want to offer you a position.”
She blinked. “Like… a part-time café job?”
He didn’t even flinch. “Head of Internal Youth Cybersecurity.”
Her jaw dropped.
“I’m seventeen.”
“You’ll be eighteen in four months.”
“I failed PE twice.”
“I’m not hiring you to run laps.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I never joke.”
She pointed a finger. “That’s a joke right there.”
He tilted his head. “You’d be paid. Well.”
“How well?”
He named a number.
Aira nearly fell out of the chair.
“You want me to join your company,” she said slowly, “because I hacked your menu?”
“You passed a test no one was supposed to attempt.”
“…Is this like a villain origin recruitment?”
He smirked.
“You’ll start with small tasks. Security simulations. Dummy threats. Digital surveillance sweeps. We’ll pretend you’re an intern.”
“You mean I am an intern.”
“We’ll pretend harder.”
She leaned back, trying to process.
“And if I say no?”
“I’ll erase your blog.”
Her eyes widened.
“You wouldn’t.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“…You’re evil.”
“Efficient,” he corrected.
She crossed her arms. “What do I get out of this besides a stress ulcer and caffeine addiction?”
He tossed a sleek black ID card across the table.
It slid perfectly to her.
On it: her name, her photo… and the title:
> Junior Executive – Cybersecurity Analyst
Clearance: Level Red.
She stared at it.
“You just had this ready?”
“I’m prepared.”
“…Are you sure you’re not secretly Batman?”
“No cape.”
She picked up the card.
Held it.
Felt the weight.
He was watching her closely now.
Then he said softly, “There’s more going on in this building than you think.”
She looked up.
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer directly. Just stood and walked to the glass window, looking out at the city like a troubled anime protagonist.
“There are things you’ll see soon. Patterns. Codes. People watching people. This isn’t just business—it’s a battlefield.”
She stood too.
“And you want me in the middle of it?”
He turned back. “You’re already in the middle of it.”
She stared at him. “…This sounds like the beginning of a hacker-romcom-thriller.”
He smirked. “Then let’s hope it’s a bestseller.”
A beat passed.
Then she slowly slid the ID card into her pocket.
“Fine. But I want access to the CEO pantry.”
“No.”
“Two snacks per hour minimum.”
“No.”
“I get to rename the server hamster.”
“Absolutely not.”
She grinned. “Too late. His name is now Waffle.”
He sighed.
She held out her hand.
“Deal?”
He looked at it.
Then shook.
Her heart jumped.
This time, from something other than caffeine.
> Let the games begin.
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