Chapter 6

After an eventful week, the weekend came and went in a blur. And just like that, it was Monday again.

Chaeyoung was already at the office—early, annoyingly alert—with a cup of coffee in hand, sitting across from her supervisor in his office. The space looked exactly like every supervisor’s office ever: plaques lined up on the walls, framed degrees, awards from conferences Chaeyoung doubted anyone actually enjoyed attending. Still, she couldn’t help but stare a little.

God. Maybe one day she’d be this successful too.

Her supervisor sat behind his desk, posture straight, eyes flicking between his computer screen and her face. The man was strict as hell—borderline unbearable in emails—especially after the chaos of the past week. Constant restructures, last-minute changes from upper management, and that single, soul-crushing day of nonstop meetings had clearly pushed him into full micromanagement mode.

Chaeyoung shifted slightly in her chair, the leather creaking under her weight. She glanced to the side and noticed the second chair sitting empty.

Right. They were waiting on the intern. Today was their first day. And suddenly, Chaeyoung felt a strange mix of curiosity and dread settle in her chest.

Chaeyoung remembered her intern days like they were yesterday. God, it was rough in the beginning—really rough. You were new, nobody knew who you were, and nobody was exactly rooting for you either. You mostly just tried to stay out of the way and not fuck anything up.

Because of that, Chaeyoung was already trying her best to mentally prepare herself. Intern contracts usually ran for six months. At the end of it, you were evaluated—either kept on long-term or quietly pushed out the door to try your luck somewhere else. Sometimes, if an intern showed promise or had specific interests, they’d get moved to a different floor or department entirely. Everyone was assigned a mentor, too. Some mentors were great. Some were… not.

Chaeyoung had been picked out of nowhere. It was her first time mentoring anyone, which still felt a little unreal. She’d been given a brief background on the intern—a girl a couple of years younger than her, a fresh graduate with two degrees already under her belt. Apparently, her family were big names. Rich. Well-connected.

Chaeyoung hadn’t been given a photo. No face, no image—just a name and a list of neat little descriptors attached to it. She remembered the email from her supervisor, sent weeks ago. Less of a request, more of a barked order: make sure the intern didn’t fuck up.

Not that interns usually fucked up that badly. If they did, they wouldn’t even be here in the first place. And still, Chaeyoung found herself wondering what kind of person was about to walk through that door.

The next thing Chaeyoung knew, almost like clockwork, the office door swung open. She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a girl rush in, clearly flustered. “I’m so sorry I’m late—I hope I didn’t have you waiting too long!”

Chaeyoung instinctively checked the time on her phone. 8:01 a.m. One minute late. Not great, but not catastrophic either.

Her supervisor cleared his throat and leaned back from his computer, standing just enough to properly look at the girl. The sharp click of her heels echoed as she hurried closer, and Chaeyoung straightened in her chair, clearing her own throat as the sound grew nearer.

By the time the girl reached the empty seat, there was a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. She looked like she’d rushed—really rushed—to get here.

The old man coughed, a wet, unpleasant sound that made Chaeyoung flinch despite herself. “Glad you could finally make it,” he said flatly. “Please, take a seat.”

The girl immediately sat down. Chaeyoung glanced over—and blinked.

Oh.

She was… unexpectedly cute. That caught Chaeyoung off guard more than she liked to admit. She hadn’t been expecting much beyond a nervous, overly polished intern.

“Hi,” the girl said quickly, her voice soft and bubbly. “My name is Tzuyu. Chou Tzuyu.”

Her hair was a warm honey-brown, falling past her shoulders in loose waves, with bangs that framed her eyes just right. She had round cheeks, pink lips, and wide brown eyes that darted around the room as if she were trying to take everything in at once.

She slipped her backpack off her shoulders—an old, well-worn one that looked straight out of her college days—and carefully set it beside her chair. Then she shrugged out of her navy jacket, revealing a crisp white button-up layered under a fitted sweater vest. The outfit was neat, intentional, and surprisingly stylish without trying too hard.

Chaeyoung caught herself staring and quickly looked away. Okay, she thought. This is the intern.

And suddenly, mentoring didn’t feel quite as abstract anymore. Trying to take in another quick glance, Chaeyoung’s eyes dipped briefly before she could stop herself.

Her skirt was navy, neatly pressed, sitting high at Tzuyu’s waist and flaring slightly when she settled into the chair. It was professional, technically—nothing out of place—but short enough that it emphasized her silhouette when she moved.

And then Chaeyoung’s eyes went wide. Tzuyu’s legs were bare. No stockings or anything. There was a pit suddenly in Chaeyoung’s stomach. That’s a red flag, she thought. But shook it off anyways.

Her eye’s scanned some more at Tzuyu’s skirt. The fabric shifted as she crossed her legs, revealing careful intention rather than carelessness, like she knew exactly how she presented herself without meaning to make a spectacle of it.

Chaeyoung quickly looked away again, clearing her throat. Get it together, she thought. She’s your intern.

Still, she couldn’t deny it—the girl had presence. Not loud or flashy, just… noticeable. And for some reason, that made Chaeyoung sit up a little straighter in her chair.

Suddenly, Chaeyoung’s supervisor finally spoke up, pointing in her direction. “Alright, so this is Son Chaeyoung,” he said. “She’s an associate—been with us for three years now, going on four. I expect you two to get acquainted. Tzuyu, you’ll go to Chaeyoung for any questions or guidance. She’s your point person. Before you ever come to me.”

He waved a hand like the matter was settled. “Chaeyoung, take her to her cubicle, get her settled in, and let me know if anything comes up.”

Chaeyoung nodded quickly and stood, straightening her posture and clearing her throat. Tzuyu stood at the same time—and that’s when Chaeyoung froze for half a second. She was taller.

And it was by ridiculous amount, enough to make Chaeyoung painfully aware of it. She’d always been a little insecure about her height, and now it was impossible to ignore. The girl had long legs, good posture, and an easy confidence just standing there. It was… intimidating. Chaeyoung refused to acknowledge that out loud, even in her head.

Then, suddenly, a hand wrapped around hers. Chaeyoung stopped dead. She looked down and saw it was Tzuyu’s, her fingers warm and gentle, holding onto her like it was the most natural thing in the world. When Chaeyoung looked back up, Tzuyu was smiling at her with soft, almost earnest eyes.

“I’ll be in your care, I guess, moving forward, Ms. Son,” Tzuyu said lightly.

Heat rushed straight to Chaeyoung’s face. “Oh—no, no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just—just call me Chae. That’s totally fine. Uh, yeah. Let’s—let’s get you to your cubicle.”

Tzuyu nodded, soft and agreeable. “Okay.” A small pause. Then— “…You can call me Chewy.”

Chaeyoung blinked. “…Chewy?”

Tzuyu gave a small smile—subtle, but there was something behind it. “Yeah. I like it better.”

Chaeyoung hesitated this time, her brows pulling together slightly. “I mean—if that’s your nickname, that’s fine, but I should probably just call you by your name, right? Like—professionally.”

Tzuyu tilted her head. “…Can you pronounce it?”

Chaeyoung froze. “I—what?”

“Tzuyu,” she repeated, a little slower this time. “Most people say it wrong. Try saying it.”

There’s the faintest hint of amusement in her voice now. Chaeyoung opens her mouth. Closes it. “…I can try.”

Tzuyu hums, like she’s considering it. Then she leans just a little closer—not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to throw Chaeyoung off by a fraction. “Okay,” she says softly. “Try.”

Chaeyoung’s brain immediately malfunctions. “Tzu—Tzu…yu?” she attempts, already knowing it sounded wrong.

Tzuyu’s smile deepens—barely. “Mhm.”

That did not sound like approval. Chaeyoung clears her throat. “Okay—see, that’s why nicknames exist.”

“Exactly,” Tzuyu says smoothly. “So just call me Chewy.” There’s a beat. And then—just to make it worse— “…unless you want to keep trying.”

Chaeyoung stares at her. Something about that felt like a challenge. She doesn’t even know why. “…Chewy is fine then,” she says quickly.

“Mhm,” Tzuyu hums again, satisfied.

Across from them, her supervisor lets out a long, irritated sigh without even looking up from his computer. “Are you two done?” he mutters. “Because I am.”

Neither of them respond.

“Great,” he continues flatly, clicking something on his screen. “Then get out of my office.”

Chaeyoung flinches slightly. “Right—yes, sorry.”

Tzuyu just nods politely, like nothing just happened.

Why is her nickname…… kind of cute? Focus.

Chaeyoung nodded, but she was on edge. She wasn’t used to this. Not at all. As they turned to leave, Chaeyoung glanced down and finally noticed that Tzuyu was still holding her hand. Almost immediately, Tzuyu seemed to realize it too and gently pulled away, her fingers lingering for just a split second longer than necessary.

Her hands were soft. Warm. The sensation lingered in Chaeyoung’s stomach in a way she didn’t like to think too hard about. And then she noticed the skirt again.

Standing up, it was… higher than she’d thought. Dangerously so. The hem sat well above where Chaeyoung remembered it being when Tzuyu was seated, emphasizing just how long her legs were. Chaeyoung swallowed, shook her head, and forced herself to refocus.

Get it together, she told herself.

With a quick nod to her supervisor, she led Tzuyu out of the office and into the hallway, trying very hard not to overthink absolutely everything that had just happened.

Chaeyoung led Tzuyu down the buzzing hallways of the marketing floor. The soundscape was a mix of ringing phones, the hum of copiers, and the occasional murmur of someone whispering about deadlines or the latest office drama.

Workers passed them with folders and papers in hand, some juggling coffee cups like it was an extreme sport. Chaeyoung tried to focus on walking, but her eyes kept flicking to Tzuyu. The girl moved with this strange combination of purpose and curiosity, like she was both on a mission and taking in every detail like a tourist in a new city.

“You’ll be just down this hall,” Chaeyoung said, gesturing vaguely. “Intern area’s this way.”

Tzuyu nodded, her brown hair bouncing slightly as she followed. “Cool, cool. Lead the way, Ms… Chaeyoung, right?”

Chaeyoung cleared her throat. “Just Chae is fine.”

As they passed cubicles, Chaeyoung subtly noted how close Tzuyu’s would be to hers—and Mina and Nayeon’s. Almost close enough to hear everything, she thought. A small, sharp jolt of awareness hit her. Great. Now the intern was practically in earshot of her friends.

Finally, they arrived. Tzuyu’ s cubicle was simple: a chair, three computer monitors, a mouse, a keyboard, and just enough desk space to fit her notebook and bag. Nothing fancy, but for an intern, it was… adequate.

Chaeyoung stepped back, trying to sound professional. “Here we are. This is your space. You can set it up however you want. Personalize it a bit, make it your own.”

Tzuyu’s eyes scanned the cubicle quickly, taking everything in, before she practically dove into her chair like she’d been dreaming about it all morning. She adjusted her bag, swung her legs slightly, and then settled in, hands immediately going to the keyboard.

Chaeyoung stood there for a moment, trying not to stare too long, feeling a mixture of awe and mild panic. The intern was just… too quick, too confident, too animated, and maybe a little dangerously charming.

And she’s only like… two feet away from Mina and Nayeon, Chaeyoung thought, heat creeping up her neck.

Tzuyu turned slightly to Chaeyoung, giving a bright, bubbly smile. “Okay, Chae. Let’s do this. First day, first emails. Show me the ropes?”

Chaeyoung nodded, trying to act calm while internally thinking, Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?

Before Chaeyoung could even recover from the weird little moment with the skirt adjustment, Tzuyu leaned back slightly in her chair, propping one elbow on the cubicle divider like she owned the place already. It was like a flip had switched.

“So… no Apple computers, huh?” Tzuyu said, her tone teasing but somehow serious at the same time.

Chaeyoung blinked. “Uh… yeah, that’s—interns usually get these models. Samsungs. Older ones. It’s—uh—budget-friendly?” She waved her hands vaguely, realizing she sounded like a terrible excuse-maker.

Tzuyu tilted her head, giving her a look that was equal parts judgmental and incredulous. “Hmm. Okay, I guess I can work with that… for now.”

Chaeyoung nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Totally. For now. Short-term. Temporary.” Her brain was scrambling. She hadn’t expected to be quizzed like this already. She wasn’t prepared for someone to be this… animated about a piece of hardware.

Tzuyu then looked around the cubicle again, like inspecting it from every angle. “Huh… okay, I guess this works.” She smiled, which somehow made Chaeyoung’s stomach do a little flip. Why did a smile feel like a solar flare hitting her chest?

Chaeyoung cleared her throat. “Right. So… uh… if you want to personalize your space, like put up a plant or a little… action figure, or, I dunno… motivational sticky notes, that’s fine.”

Tzuyu’s eyes lit up.

“MOTIVATIONAL STICKY NOTES?! Oh my god, I love those—do you know where they are?!”

Chaeyoung physically flinched. Like—actually jumped. Her shoulders shot up, one hand instinctively coming up to cover her ear as she stared at Tzuyu in mild horror. “Jesus—” she muttered under her breath.

A couple people walking past the cubicles slowed down. Looked over. Chaeyoung immediately clocked it. Of course they did.

Meanwhile, Tzuyu was already halfway into the desk drawer, completely oblivious, rummaging like she was digging for buried treasure.

“Uh… maybe there? I think? Somewhere… probably?” Chaeyoung said, lowering her voice like her life depended on it.

“OH—!”

Chaeyoung winced again. Tzuyu pulled out a pack of sticky notes like she’d just discovered gold. “I found them!” she whispered—except it was not a whisper.

It was still loud.

Chaeyoung leaned in immediately, voice tight. “Okay—hey—hey—indoor voice. It’s like… eight in the morning.”

Tzuyu blinked at her. “Oh.” A beat. “…sorry.” There was a pause. Then, softer this time—still a little too bright: “…I found them.”

She giggled to herself, pleased. And that—that stupid, soft little giggle—Chaeyoung’s brain short-circuited. She turned away quickly, pressing her lips together.

Intern. Orientation. Professional. Don’t faint.

Then Tzuyu shifted in her chair, stretching slightly. “Ahh, comfy chair. I could get used to this.” She leaned back—way back—like she had no sense of posture or consequences, swinging her legs lightly.

The hem of her skirt—rode up. Just a little. Enough. Chaeyoung’s brain immediately shut off.

Nope.

Her eyes snapped up.Then—betrayed her. Drifted back down. Bare legs. No stockings. No buffer. Just—

“Okay.” Chaeyoung cleared her throat aggressively, turning her head like she was being physically restrained from looking. “Focus,” she muttered under her breath.

Tzuyu tilted her head. Watching.

Oh.

Oh, she noticed.

A slow, almost invisible smile crept onto her face. She shifted again. On purpose this time. One leg lifting slightly as she adjusted in the chair—just enough to make it worse.

Chaeyoung’s eyes flicked down again. And then immediately back up like she’d been caught committing a crime. “…what?” she said, too fast.

Tzuyu blinked at her, all innocence. “What?”

“…you just—”

Chaeyoung stopped herself. She had no argument. No evidence. Nothing that wouldn’t expose her completely.

Tzuyu hummed softly, tilting her head the other way now. “…nothing.”

There was a beat. Then—casually, like she wasn’t about to ruin this woman’s life— “Do you want me to sit differently?”

Chaeyoung choked. “I—what? No—why would you—no. Sit however you—normally sit.”

Tzuyu nodded slowly. “Okay.”

And then didn’t change anything. At all. If anything—she got more comfortable. Chaeyoung stared at her for a second. Then looked away. Then back. Then away again.

I’m going to lose my job.

Tzuyu giggled softly under her breath. Then her gaze wandered around the cubicle like she was planning an empire. “Okay, so what’s first? Should I log in? Check emails? Or maybe just explore the office vibes a bit?”

Chaeyoung blinked. “Uh… email… yeah. First, emails. That’s… safest.” She mentally cursed herself for even opening her mouth.

Tzuyu nodded like this was the most exciting thing in the world, like a kid on the first day of summer camp. Chaeyoung could only watch in stunned amusement—and mild terror—as the intern’s bubbly energy filled the little cubicle space, making Chaeyoung’s normally ordered, professional brain start to spin a little.

God, she thought. This girl is going to be… interesting.

“I’ll let you get everything situated,” Chaeyoung said, gesturing to Tzuyu’s cubicle. “I’m just down the hall if you need me, okay?”

Tzuyu nodded vigorously, her hands flapping just a little like she was excited and nervous all at once. Chaeyoung watched her for a moment and muttered under her breath, God, this intern. She’s like a six-year-old on sugar.

Chaeyoung was definitely not in the mood to babysit anyone today. With a deep sigh, she turned and walked down the hall to her own desk. It’s not even 10 a.m., and I’m already tired, she thought, dropping into her chair. She rubbed her face dramatically, feeling the weight of the morning already on her.

Glancing up, she noticed Nayeon peering over her cubicle, curiosity written all over her face. On the other side, Mina was doing the same. Both of them just stared at Chaeyoung like she had the answers to life.

“Yeah… we just got a new intern,” Chaeyoung said flatly.

Nayeon grinned. “Ooh, a new baby! Can’t wait.”

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. “Yeah, a bubbly-ass baby. It’s not even 10 a.m., and the girl’s already squealing over sticky notes.”

Mina laughed. “Well… you remember when we were interns. I mean, it’s probably really exciting for the them.” She tilted her head curiously. “So… what are they like?”

Chaeyoung hesitated. She’d only met Tzuyu like thirty minutes ago. “Her name’s Tzuyu. And well, uh… she’s tall… cute… apparently from some bigwig family from Taiwan. Uh… that’s about all I can say. I don’t really know more.”

Mina nodded. “Well… she sounds really nice. Hopefully she settles in well.”

Nayeon smirked. “Yeah… like we ever did.”

The three of them shared a small laugh, and for a second, the office noise faded around them. But then chaeyoung hesitated. “…She told me to call her Chewy.”

There was a beat. Then—Nayeon’s grin spread wide. “Chewy?”

Mina blinked. “…You’re calling her that?”

Chaeyoung’s face immediately heated. “She told me to! It’s a pronunciation thing!”

Nayeon leaned further over the cubicle, fully invested now. “Oh my god. You’re already using nicknames? Didn’t you guys just meet like less than thirty minutes ago?”

“I’m not—she said—it’s her name—”

“Her nickname,” Nayeon corrected, smirking.

Mina covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “That’s actually kind of cute.”

“It’s not cute,” Chaeyoung snapped. “It’s—normal.”

“Mmhm,” Nayeon said. “Sure, Chae.”

Before Chaeyoung could defend herself further, she felt a presence behind her. She turned—heart skipping a beat—and froze.

It was Tzuyu.

“Hi… sorry to bother you, Chae,” she said, voice soft, a little nervous. “Um… I think I forgot to ask, but could you maybe help me log into the system? I don’t want to mess anything up on my first day.”

Behind Chaeyoung—Nayeon leaned in immediately. “Chae?” she whispered.

Mina’s eyes flicked between them, already scanning the scene. Chaeyoung blinked, momentarily speechless. Right. Of course.”—yeah. Yes. Sure. I can help you,” she said quickly, standing up a little too fast.

Nayeon grabbed her sleeve lightly as she passed. “…she’s hot,” she whispered.

Chaeyoung nearly tripped. “I hate you,” she muttered under her breath.

Mina tilted her head slightly, watching Tzuyu with quiet curiosity. “She calls you Chae,” she added softly.

Chaeyoung froze for half a second. “Oh my god.”

“It’s cute,” Mina said, lips twitching.

Chaeyoung turned back toward them, eyes wide in warning. “Don’t—”

Too late. Nayeon was already smiling at Tzuyu. “Hi, my names Nayeon, and this is Mina,” she said gesturing between her and Mina, clearly entertained. “Nice to meet you.”

Tzuyu bowed her head politely. “Nice to meet you two.”

Then—she glanced at Chaeyoung. Just briefly. Just enough. “…Chae was doing really good, helping me earlier,” she added innocently.

Nayeon made a small, oh? noise. Mina’s smile got just a little sharper. Chaeyoung felt her soul leave her body. “Okay—!” she cut in quickly, grabbing Tzuyu lightly by the wrist. “We’re gonna go. Right now. Immediately.”

Tzuyu blinked, startled. “Oh—okay.”

Nayeon was already leaning over the cubicle wall. “Wait, no—come back, I have questions—”

“No you don’t!” Chaeyoung snapped, already pulling Tzuyu away.

As they walked off, Nayeon turned to Mina, eyes wide. “Oh, she’s really hot.“

Mina hummed softly. “…that one’s dangerous.”

Down the hall—Chaeyoung was speed-walking. “What was that?” she hissed under her breath, glancing over slightly.

Tzuyu looked at her, confused. “What?”

“You—don’t—have to say my nickname like that in front of them.”

“…like what?” Tzuyu asked, genuinely curious.

Chaeyoung opened her mouth. Then closed it. “…just—don’t do that again.”

Tzuyu blinked. Then—a gave a slow smile. “…okay.” A beat passed, and then she whispered it to her. “Chae~”

Chaeyoung stopped walking. “—oh my god.”

And Tzuyu just giggled. Soon enough, the two finally reached Tzuyu’s cubicle, and Chaeyoung blinked as her eyes landed on a small packet of sticky notes teetering right at the edge of the desk, dangerously close to falling.

“Oh no! My sticky notes!” Tzuyu suddenly squealed and practically skipped forward to grab it.

Chaeyoung moved at the same time. “I got it!” she called out.

Both of them leaned down at the same time, hands stretching for the sticky note. And then—it happened. Their hands touched. Just for a second, but enough to make Chaeyoung feel her face heat up instantly.

Tzuyu, startled, jumped back—and in her flailing motion, her body smacked into the side of her cubicle. The breeze from the movement lifted her skirt for a split second—three seconds that felt like an eternity to Chaeyoung.

Her eyes widened—dinner-plate wide—as she caught sight of bright pink lace beneath the skirt.

Tzuyu’s hands shot down instantly, covering herself, face redder than a cherry. “S-stop being a pervert!” she hissed in a tiny, furious whisper.

Chaeyoung froze, mouth agape. “Pervert? What the—what the fuck?!” She quickly glanced around—thankfully, no one was there to witness the disaster—but the shock left her cheeks pink and her stomach in knots.

Tzuyu pouted, ears flushed, glaring at her with that beet-red, fiery little face. Chaeyoung could only stare back, equally mortified, both of them locked in an awkward silence that was simultaneously mortifying and absurdly funny.

“Your skirt is too short! You need to fix that shit—NOW,” Chaeyoung hissed in an angry whisper, glancing around desperately, hoping nobody heard her. She could almost feel her job teetering on the edge after what had just happened.

Tzuyu, still pouting, looked at her innocently. “I don’t have a change of clothes! I rushed to get here—it’s my first day! Not my fault!”

Chaeyoung blinked at her, mortified. “You need to fix this! That’s literally a violation. And—why do you not have stockings on or something!? What the fuck is wrong with you???”

Tzuyu rolled her eyes, plopping down into her chair like Chaeyoung had just scolded a toddler. “Just don’t be a pervert again, okay?” she said, voice dripping with faux authority, like Chaeyoung was the one in trouble.

Chaeyoung’s face heated up further, and a strange, flustered sensation stirred low in her stomach. She opened her mouth, then froze. “…What the fuck did I do? And I’m not a pervert. Jesus Christ.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. It was far too early in the morning for this level of chaos. “Okay. What…what do you need help with again?”

Tzuyu’s lips pressed together as she leaned forward over her desk. It looked like she was trying—and failing—to hold back a laugh. Her eyes sparkled just a little, and Chaeyoung felt that mix of annoyance and…something else bubbling up inside her.

“I need help logging into the system,” Tzuyu snapped, her voice sharp but soft at the same time, cutting right through Chaeyoung’s frazzled brain.

“All right, right, okay,” Chaeyoung muttered, leaning over slightly to help her. She started typing in the login info, entering passwords and double-checking IDs, focusing on the screen—but not fully realizing how close she had gotten to Tzuyu.

Then she looked over, and froze. Tzuyu was… close. Breathing distance close. Her eyes were trained on Chaeyoung, warm and curious, like she was daring her to mess this up. Chaeyoung’s throat suddenly felt dry. “…Okay, so try this password,” she muttered, fumbling slightly.

Each attempt failed. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“God, can you just hurry up already!?” Tzuyu snapped, leaning even closer.

Chaeyoung felt a jolt. She could smell the girl’s perfume. Subtle, sweet, and entirely distracting. Her palms were sweating, and she was hyper-aware of every small movement Tzuyu made.

“I’m trying! Just…give me a second!” Chaeyoung shot back, voice sharper than she intended. Her heart was racing. This was too close. Her chest was tight, and her mind was in a spiral. She was supposed to be helping her intern—she was supposed to be professional. And yet, standing here, leaning over her desk, feeling the warmth of Tzuyu’s presence, she could feel herself unraveling in ways she absolutely did not have time for.

“Oh my god,” Tzuyu giggled, brushing her hair behind her ear, “I didn’t know you were such a slow typer. You’re taking forever.”

Chaeyoung blinked at the screen like it had personally betrayed her. “…Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” Tzuyu hummed, leaning a little closer in her chair, “you’ve been typing the same thing for, like… five minutes already.”

“I have not—” Chaeyoung snapped, immediately hitting the wrong key again. “This system is just—slow.”

Tzuyu tilted her head, watching her hands fumble. “…Or,” she said lightly, voice dropping just enough to make it worse, “you’re stalling.”

Chaeyoung froze. “I’m not stalling.”

“Mhm.” Tzuyu’s lips curved. “Could’ve fooled me.” She leaned in just a little more, close enough that Chaeyoung could feel it—her presence, her voice, everything. “You just wanted an excuse to be this close to me, right?”

Chaeyoung’s fingers slipped off the keyboard entirely. “What—no—I’m literally helping you log in—”

“Sure,” Tzuyu said, nodding slowly. “And earlier?”

Chaeyoung stilled. Tzuyu’s eyes sparkled, already knowing. “When we were walking down the hall, and when I sat in my chair…” she continued, casual like she wasn’t about to ruin her life, “you kept looking at my legs.”

Chaeyoung’s head snapped toward her. “I did not—”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did.”

“I was not looking at your legs!”

Tzuyu raised an eyebrow. “…So you weren’t wanting to look up my skirt either? Especially when you made it fly up too?”

Chaeyoung’s entire soul left her body. “I—what—NO—” she stammered, shaking her head so hard it almost hurt. “That was an accident, okay!? It was an accident! You bumped into your cubicle! I was just trying to help get your sticky notes for you!”

Tzuyu leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying herself now. “Mmm,” she hummed. “I don’t know…..”

Chaeyoung groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh my god.”

Tzuyu tilted her head again, studying her like she was something fascinating. “You really wanted to see my panties that bad?” she asked sweetly.

“I did NOT—”

“What color were they?”

The question hits. And Chaeyoung—does not think. “They were pink—”

Silence slaps them. Absolute silence. Chaeyoung’s eyes widen. Her mouth is still open. She freezes mid-breath. Because she just—snitched on herself. Slowly—painfully—she turns her head toward Tzuyu. Who is staring at her. Grinning.

“Oh,” Tzuyu says, delighted. “So you did look.”

“I—no—that’s not—” Chaeyoung sputters, completely unraveling. “I just—I saw it for like two seconds—it was an accident—I didn’t mean—”

Tzuyu laughs, soft and bright and way too pleased with herself. “You’re such a pervert,” she says, shaking her head.

“I am NOT—” Chaeyoung cuts herself off, because nothing she says is helping anymore. Her hands hover uselessly over the keyboard. Face burning. Brain fried.

Tzuyu leans back in her chair, completely satisfied, watching her melt down. “Relax,” she says lightly, like she didn’t just destroy her. “I’m just messing with you.”

Chaeyoung stares at the screen. Misses the password field again. “…I hate this job,” she mutters under her breath. Her face was red enough to power a small neon sign. “I…okay…fine! Let me just…figure this out,” she muttered, frantically typing. Her hands collided with Tzuyu’s ever so slightly as she reached for the mouse, and she nearly yelped.

“Oh! Careful!” Tzuyu teased, eyes wide and innocent. “Wouldn’t want to hurt the pervert.”

Chaeyoung’s head shot up. “…I am not a pervert! Stop saying that, Chewy-ah!” she hissed, fumbling the login one more time.

Tzuyu went very still for a second. Then—her smile shifted. Just a little. “…say it again.”

Chaeyoung blinked. “What?”

“My name,” Tzuyu said lightly, tilting her head. “Say it again.”

“…Chewy—what is wrong with you, I’m trying to—”

Tzuyu hummed, clearly ignoring the rest of that. “I like how you say it.”

Chaeyoung froze. “…what…”

“It sounds nice,” Tzuyu added, voice softer now—still playful, but with something underneath it. “A little… different.”

Chaeyoung’s face went red immediately. “I—what does that even mean?? It’s just—your name—”

Tzuyu leaned back in her chair again, completely unbothered. “It sounds kind of… pretty.” A beat passes. Then, like she wasn’t about to ruin this woman’s life: “…a little hot, too.”

Chaeyoung choked. “WHAT—okay—nope—no—” she fumbled the keyboard again, missing the password entirely. “Stop talking. Please stop talking.”

Tzuyu just giggled, satisfied, leaning back like she hadn’t just caused a full system failure. Chaeyoung, on the other hand, felt like she might actually pass out. After a few more failed attempts—finally—the login accepted the password.

“There! There, you’re logged in, okay?” Chaeyoung straightened up, letting out a massive sigh that felt like it could have powered the building. Her shoulders sagged immediately after.

Tzuyu just sat there, eyes glancing over her, subtle but unmistakable, taking in her form as if she was analyzing every inch. Chaeyoung felt heat rise to her cheeks but forced herself to ignore it.

“Alright,” Chaeyoung said, voice tight but trying to sound professional, “I’m down the hall if you need me.”

And with that, she practically sprinted away, striding back toward her cubicle without daring to look back. Somehow, she didn’t hear Tzuyu’s soft, teasing, “Geez, that took you long enough,” trailing in her wake.

Chaeyoung did not walk back to her desk. She stormed. Fast. Stiff. Like she was trying to outrun her own thoughts. Her face was beet red, her ears burning, her chest rising and falling a little too quickly like she’d just sprinted a mile.

This girl has me fucked up.

She rounded the corner and made it to her desk—and practically collapsed into her chair. Nayeon immediately leaned over. “…what the hell is wrong with you?”

Mina looked up too, eyes already narrowing in quiet amusement. “Chaeyoung… are you okay?”

Chaeyoung stared straight at her screen like it personally offended her. “…I’m really calling her Chewy now.”

A beat passed. Mina snorted. Nayeon blinked once—and then burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re done for.”

Chaeyoung dropped her head into her hands. “Jesus,” she groaned, dragging her palms down her face. “It’s been forty-five minutes. Forty-five.”

Nayeon leaned closer, fully invested now. “Wait—what did she do??”

Chaeyoung sat up abruptly. “She’s—she’s being weird.”

Mina tilted her head. “Weird how?”

Chaeyoung gestured vaguely, like she couldn’t even put it into words. “She’s just—talking. And smiling. And—looking at me.”

Nayeon squinted. “…that sounds like a normal person thing. She’s new here.”

“No, it’s not!” Chaeyoung snapped. “You weren’t there!”

Mina’s lips twitched, as she wanted her panick more. “I’m just making sure…..it’s the intern right?”

Chaeyoung pointed at her immediately. “Yes. Oh my god, yes.”

Nayeon leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “It’s been forty-five minutes and you’re already losing it over an intern?”

“She was flirting with me!”

Silence hits them. Mina blinked. Nayeon blinked.

“…she was what?” Nayeon said slowly.

“She was flirting with me,” Chaeyoung repeated, completely serious.

Nayeon stared at her for two seconds—and then lost it. Full-on cackling. “No—no—there’s no way. There’s actually no way. I mean she is dangerously hot, but no.”

Mina covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Chaeyoung…..”

“That’s not—are you sure?” Nayeon asks, her eyes narrowing a bit.

“I’m sure!” Chaeyoung said, exasperated. “She said my nickname weird, and then she—just—she knows what she’s doing.”

Nayeon stood up immediately. “Okay, now I have to see her again.”

Chaeyoung grabbed her sleeve so fast. “No—what are you doing?! Sit down!”

“I just want another look—”

“No, you don’t! Sit your ass down!”

Nayeon dropped back into her chair, still laughing. “Oh my god, you’re actually panicking.”

Mina leaned forward, smiling softly. “You’re really calling her Chewy?”

Chaeyoung groaned again. “Don’t start.”

Nayeon wiped at her eyes. “That’s crazy. You’re done. HR is gonna pack up your desk by lunch.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” Nayeon continued, pointing at her. “By 5 p.m., you’re gonna be escorted out with a box. I’ll help you carry your stuff.”

“I hate both of you.”

Mina laughed quietly. “She’s you’re intern, and probabaly just being friendly. I don’t think she’s flirting with you. “

“She is!”

“Or,” Mina added sweetly, “you just think she is.”

Chaeyoung stared at her. “…you’re both useless.”

Nayeon leaned in again, smirking. “She was really cute, when we saw her.”

Chaeyoung froze for half a second. “…that’s not the point.”

“She was super hot too,” Nayeon said immediately.

“She’s not—”

Chaeyoung stopped. Mina raised an eyebrow. “…….she was hot.”

Chaeyoung slumped in her chair. “God.”

Nayeon clapped her hands once. “Yeah, you’re done.”

Chaeyoung leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Her brain, unfortunately, replaying everything. The smile. The voice. The way she said—

“Stop.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “…today is already way too long.” She peeked at the time. “It’s only eight forty-five.”

Silence swallowed the three of them for a minute. Then chaeyoung dropped her head back again. “…I’m not gonna survive this.”

Mina and Nayeon exchanged a look. Then—simultaneously—smiled. Nayeon grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Mina tilted her head slightly, and a chuckle escaped her.

“…you’re already gone.”