Jenna steps into the dim office.
"My head's splitting," he rasps, fingers digging into his temples. "Pounding like a hammer."
"Hang in there, sir. Still work to do." She drops the thick stack of documents in front of him with a soft thud. "Sign these. All of them."
He lifts his gaze to her, eyes bloodshot.
"Jenna… do you hate me? Why do you keep acting like a demon?"
He snatches the top sheet. "What are these?"
"Authorizations. Shipments for the last survivors left in the country."
"Fuck." He grimaces as pain flares behind his eyes. "The presidential meeting?"
"One week from now."
"Then book a ship. We need to move."
"Already booked." She turns toward the door. "Just finish signing, boss."
The pen trembles in his hand. "You hate me, don't you?" His voice cracks a little. "Why do you hate me so much?"
She pauses, fingers on the knob, then glances back with a small, sharp giggle.
"Because you're my boss."
The door swings shut behind her.
*
*
*
Ragna lay on the bed, wondering how Mimi was doing. They had told him to sleep, but his mind refused to rest. The questions hunted him, refusing to let go.
What if Mimi was being mistreated? What if they had sold her as a slave? What if… they couldn't find her?
Mimi was the only family he had left. He was willing to die to protect her.
Ever since their mother died, Mimi hadn't been herself. She was no longer the cheerful, talkative little girl who used to fill their home with light. She had always been full of mischief—sneaking meat from the pot, carefully splitting it in half so no one would notice, then proudly declaring herself "the most beautiful princess in the world.
" When they were sad or lonely, her silly actions and bold behavior would always make them laugh and lift their spirits.
The house felt empty without her. Now that he thought about it, had Mimi always done that on purpose—cheering them up whenever worry or sadness crept in?
Being poor was never easy.
Every day brought the same fears: what to eat, what to wear, how to pay the shady landlord, where to find today's money, how to beg without breaking. Poor people worried about everything, while rich people woke up free to do whatever they wanted.
Poverty was a curse. Rich people had friends; the poor had none. No one liked standing too close to someone with empty pockets. Borrow money, and you became the lender's slave. A simple "Will you do this for me?" carried the weight of a debt you couldn't refuse.
Ragna sighed heavily.
They had told him to sleep, but his mind was a storm. He couldn't shut his eyes. His body felt restless. He tried to force sleep, but it wouldn't come. Elara's husband had also warned him not to leave the room. So Ragna spent the whole day recovering, thinking only of his sister.
"I couldn't do anything to protect her," he whispered. "I was completely useless."
A quiet sob escaped him.
The pain grew much worse as he recalled the memory of his mother