Third person POV
Amera woke up to the blaring sound of her small alarm clock. She groaned, rolling over on the narrow bed as she slapped the clock silent. Morning had come far too quickly, and she wished, if only for today,that it hadn't come at all. She didn't feel like going to work.
After about two minutes of whining silently about how unfair and exhausting her life was, Raven finally dragged herself out of bed. She couldn't afford to be lazy today. Today was her official first day at her new job.
She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and stood in front of her wardrobe, rummaging through it in search of anything modest enough to wear to work. Most of her clothes leaned toward casual or flattering rather than professional. After several minutes of frustration, she muttered to herself, "It wouldn't kill me to look presentable."
Eventually, she settled on a plain black-and-white suit paired with simple heels. Professional. Safe. Acceptable. She stood before her small standing mirror and attempted to fix her hair. She tried combing it, then straightening it, but as always, it refused to cooperate. After several failed attempts, frustration won. Raven dropped her hands and simply stared at her reflection.
The girl staring back at her was twenty-one years old. She had light red, curly hair that framed her face stubbornly, refusing to obey any attempt to tame it. Her green emerald eyes were rare and striking, standing out against her fair skin. She had an oval face, full lips, and long lashes that fanned her cheeks whenever she blinked. Her figure was naturally curvy, an hourglass shape with a fuller chest than most. No matter how modestly she dressed, she somehow still ended up looking… noticeable.
Amera hated her hair texture. She had always wanted straight hair, sleek and obedient, but it was as though her curls had a mind of their own. Every attempt to straighten them ended in failure.
She sighed deeply, frustration tightening her chest. After a moment, she applied light makeup, just enough to look awake,and reached for the small pill container on her table.
She popped it open, took out one pill, tossed it into her mouth, and swallowed it down with a glass of water. Grabbing her office bag, she rushed out of her apartment, half-walking and half-running.
She was almost late, and she still needed to get a taxi.
"Will it kill you to be early, Raven?" she scolded herself under her breath. "Do you remember how hard it was to get this job? You better behave."
Once outside, she hailed a taxi and slid into the back seat.
"Rowland Avenue," she told the driver.
He nodded and drove off.
As the city unfolded around her, Raven found herself completely awestruck. The architecture was breathtaking, elegant buildings, artistic structures, and carefully designed streets. Even her home country didn't compare to the beauty of Zorak. As a jewelry designer, seeing the city through an artistic lens made her heart race. It felt like floating in an endless sea of art.
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror a few times and shook his head faintly.
"We're here," he said suddenly. "I can't go any further. You'll have to walk."
She noticed the strange look he gave her and felt embarrassed. Quietly, she paid him and stepped out of the taxi.
"Amera, you have to stop zoning out," she muttered to herself. "This is a big city. Before they think you're crazy."
She sighed and continued walking. It took a while, but soon she reached the gate. After presenting her pass to the security personnel, she was cleared for entry.
Before heading inside, Amera paused and looked around.
Rowland Avenue was a vast street reserved exclusively for the King of Zorak. It housed the residences of top officials—the prime minister, marquis, viscount, and count. There were buildings dedicated to different companies, official lodgings similar to luxury hotels, dining houses, and even the palace itself. The state house, where debates and parliament were held, stood proudly within the avenue.
To put it simply, Rowland Avenue was an imperial city of its own, right in the heart of the capital. According to the information she received during employment, walking from one end to the other could take three to four hours.
Amera still couldn't believe she worked here.
Her company was responsible for designing royal jewelry, for the royal family, noble houses, and wealthy moguls who could afford the prestige of
royal craftsmanship.
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, Amera headed toward her company building.
"Don't worry," she whispered to herself. "You work here now. You'll have all the time in the world to admire beautiful art."
She chuckled softly.
Not long after she clocked in, the director arrived. Raven was his second assistant and shared an office with the first assistant—a blonde she devil in her mid-twenties named Sophia. Sophia came from a noble background, and the director often overlooked her insubordination and laziness.
During Amera's two-week training period, Sophia had made her life miserable. If Raven hadn't worked so swiftly and diligently, she would have failed the final assessment and lost the job.
Amera glanced at the desk in the corner and realized Sophia wasn't around.
Relief and dread washed over her at the same time, but she pushed the feeling aside and focused on her work.
"Miss Greene," Director Lucas Blaine called while reviewing a file.
"Yes, sir," Amera replied, standing up abruptly.
"It says here that you are an alpha. Is that correct?" he asked casually.
Her heart skipped. Her palms grew sweaty.
"Y-yes, sir," she stammered, her voice cracking. She silently cursed herself.
Director Blaine studied her for a moment before continuing.
"You're from Vinland," he said.
She nodded.
"You'll be contacted for proper documentation. You'll also be assigned a one-bedroom apartment, either in the city or here in Rowland Avenue." He paused and looked at her carefully.
"Assistant Sophia is on leave for the week, so you'll be in charge."
Amera stiffened.
"You'll have authorization to access her computer and documents. You'll organize meetings, schedule jewelry testing, book appointments, and assist with clients. Is that something you can handle in your first week?"
"Yes, sir," Amera replied softly but firmly.
"Good. Your weekly assignments will be printed out. Don't disappoint me. This is a royal establishment, we exist to make royalty look flawless."
As he turned to leave, he stopped.
"Are you related to Lady Viscountess Sarah Greene?"
Amera froze.
"No, sir. I don't know who she is."
Her hands clenched together, damp with sweat.