The morning mist clung to the streets of Shenzhen like a silken veil. Anya Lu stared at herself in the mirror. A crisp white shirt, a black blazer, and a faint, forced smile on her face. She pressed her finger gently against the photo of Jungkook stuck on the back of her phone.
"Today… I can't lose, Anya. Just once… just once," she whispered to herself. She had no idea that the "fate" she was addressing was none other than Zain Yan's meticulously woven web of death.
She stepped down. In the kitchen, her mother was washing dishes. The house was unusually silent.
"Mom, where are Uncle?" Anya asked, scanning the empty rooms.
Her mother didn't stop scrubbing. For a moment, her hands trembled. She forced a smile, turning toward Anya. "He … he had to go out of town for some work. They'll be back in a week."
"What kind of work is it?" Anya asked, sensing something off.
Her mother swallowed and looked away, returning her gaze to the dishes. "If it's work, it's work, isn't it? Don't be late… go… for your interview."
Anya picked up the keys to her scooter, but a nagging doubt lingered in her mind. So soon? Without informing her? Shaking off the thought, she started the scooter and made her way toward the towering skyscrapers.
Scene 2: The Cold Corridors of Z.Y. Empire
The Z.Y. Empire building was like a massive palace of glass. As Anya walked through the corridor, the click-clack of her shoes echoed against the empty walls. Everyone around looked professional… and cold.
Manager Li stood by the interview room door, casting her a disdainful glance, as if Anya were nothing but trash. "Go in. And remember, mistakes aren't allowed here."
Anya nervously adjusted her glasses and stepped inside. The interview was short, curt, and cold. Manager Li closed the file and said, "Alright, Miss Lu, we'll call you."
Her heart sank. "We'll call you"—a polite death sentence. She stepped out, heavy with despair. She had no idea that her file was no longer in Manager Li's hands—it was heading straight to the 50th floor.
Scene 3: The Devil's Decree
On the 50th floor, the air was thick with power. Zain Yan stood by his window. Manager Li entered, panting, and placed a pile of files on the desk.
"Sir, these are today's candidates. Among them, the most capable—"
Zain slowly turned. His eyes held an unusual weariness, but beneath it, a deeper, sharper hatred. His fingers stopped on a single name—Anya Lu.
He opened the file. The innocent smile in her photo made his cold eyes flash with a memory—his sister Jiya's bloodied face, haunting him in that instant. That same innocence became a weapon in Zain's hands.
He picked up a deep red pen and marked a cross beside Anya's name.
Zain (flatly): "Select her."
Manager Li froze. "But sir… her qualifications are much lower than others, and—"
Zain tilted his head slightly. One glance from him buried Manager Li's words in her throat. He stepped closer, moving like a predator closing in on its prey.
Zain (whispering): "Don't let her know I chose her. Let her believe it's her hard work. To lure a mouse into the trap, the smell of the cheese must do the work, Manager Li."
Scene 4: False Victory, Real Tears
Down at the reception, Anya sat in a corner, tears pooling in her eyes. "Why does this always happen to me? Will I ever succeed?"
She grabbed her bag and was about to leave when her phone buzzed… buzzed…
Unknown number
Her trembling fingers picked up the phone. "Hello… Miss Anya Lu speaking."
"Miss Lu, this is the HR Department of Z.Y. Empire. We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected."
Anya froze. "Selected…?"
"Yes. Report at 8 a.m. tomorrow. Your position will be Junior Designer. But remember, rules here are strict. No delays will be tolerated, personal matters are secondary, and obedience to orders is mandatory."
"Y-Yes! Thank you so much, sir! I won't disappoint you!" Anya cut the call and jumped slightly in excitement. "Yay! I got the job! Huan Jing, I got the job!" Tonight's dinner from me to you and Kaiya
From the 50th-floor window, Zain watched. The small girl bounced with joy in the parking lot, oblivious to the forces closing in around her.
He touched the old, rusted cake knife in his hand, feeling the cold weight of anticipation. A deadly fire of revenge burned in his eyes.
He took a sip of dark wine from a glass,