In the centre of the room, a large oak desk sat atop an intricately woven raggedy old Persian rug. An antique globe occupied one corner. Its surface was marred by yellowed stickers marking the bits of Codex Gigas. Next to it sat a glass-encased display of medieval weaponry, the steel swords and daggers glinting in the muted light filtering through thick velvet curtains.

Infront of it stood a brewing chaos.

"I just don't understand why you're defending her, Enlai," Lila said, her voice trembling with anger and sadness. "She resigned from her job after Yoshi disappeared. It's like she was trying to cover something up."

Enlai shook his head, his heart breaking for the pain and misunderstanding. "You're not listening. Dahyun was devastated when Yoshi went missing. She couldn't bear to be here without him, Lila. That's why she resigned, not because she had anything to do with his disappearance."

Lila scoffed. "Convenient excuse. I knew I couldn't trust her from the beginning. Yoshi saw right through her too."

"No, Lila, that's not true," Enlai pleaded, his voice desperate. "Yoshi and Dahyun... they loved each other. You saw how happy they were together. She would never hurt him."

But Lila was not convinced. She refused to listen. She had her mind made up that Dahyun was the cause of all their problems. Enlai could see the hurt and betrayal in her eyes, and it tore him apart.

Lila's face twisted in anger. "You're blind, Enlai. Dahyun played on Yoshi's trust, and now he's gone. Don't you see the connection?"

"I thought you were my friend, Enlai," Lila had said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I guess I was wrong."

“Dahyun loved Yoshi,” Enlai spat, his voice serrated. All his willingness to keep it stable and calm flew right out of the window. If Lila would hurt, she would have to feel the same.
“You can’t deny it, Lila. You knew it. I knew it. Hell, even the janitor knew it!”

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sickly glow on the office carpet. Enlai’s voice cut through the sickness. This wasn’t exactly how it all had started. They were barely talking, still grieved and shocked over the resignation letter from Dahyun that had arrived. But it all escalated way too quickly.

Her fingers clenched around her mouse. “And what if she did? Love doesn’t absolve betrayal, Enlai.”

Sejin hovered near the water cooler, torn between refilling his cup and intervening. The air was thick with tension, a palpable entity that seemed to choke the life out of the room. He’d seen office squabbles before, but this—this was different. This was personal.

He had known Lila and Enlai for years and had never seen them fight like this before. They had always been there for each other, through thick and thin, and had always managed to resolve their differences in a civil and respectful manner. But today, something was different.

He was in a fix. Everything was fine even a few days ago but with Yoshi’s disappearance everything had started going downhill.

Enlai’s face was contorted with a mix of anger and grief. “Dahyun wouldn’t do that. She loved him, damn it! She wouldn’t betray him like that.”

Lila’s eyes narrowed, her voice a low, dangerous growl. “Love? Love is what made her lie to us, Enlai. Love is what made her keep secrets. Love is what got Yoshi into this mess in the first place!”

Enlai leaned in, his breath hot with accusation. “You think she had a hand in Yoshi’s disappearance, don’t you? You’ve always been suspicious of her.”

Lila’s fingers curled into fists. “Suspicious? No, Enlai. I’m convinced. Dahyun was the last person to see him alive. She knew something, and she’s hiding it.”

Sejin cleared his throat, inching closer. “Guys, maybe we should—”

But they ignored him, as if he wasn’t even in the room. The room was filled with animosity, the air thick with unspoken accusations and betrayal. Sejin wondered if he should call their lead or, more absurdly, an exorcist. He’d never seen his colleagues at each other’s throats like this.

Enlai’s face reddened. “In that case, I could say you were the last to see him too!”

Lila’s voice trembled. “And what about you? Drunk banjo!”

The argument had taken on a life of its own. Enlai’s voice rose, punctuated by angry gestures. Lila’s cheeks flushed crimson, and she pointed an accusatory finger at Enlai.

“It could’ve been Nick,” Lila insisted. “Your boyfriend’s brother. He gave us a ride that night. Maybe he—”

Enlai slammed his palm on the table. “Nick? Isn’t that your wannabe boyfriend?” His voice dripped with sarcasm and contempt.

“Enough!” Sejin’s voice cut through the chaos. His glasses slid down his nose as he stepped between them. “We’re all stressed. The project deadline is looming, and we can’t afford this.”

But neither Enlai nor Lila yielded. Their words collided, reverberating off the white walls, leaving invisible cracks in the office’s veneer. And Sejin, well, he wondered if he should’ve stayed in his quiet cubicle, tinkering with those sheets and avoiding office drama altogether.

As the office door swung open, Mr. Kim stepped into the fray like a seasoned diplomat entering a war zone. Enlai and Lila froze mid-argument, their eyes wide like deer caught in headlights.

Mr. Kim had been through his fair share of office drama - budget crises, department rivalries, and even the Great Coffee Machine Rebellion of '09. But this current situation? It was on a whole other level. The tension in the office was so palpable, he could practically cut it with a scalpel.

His tailored suit gave no indication of the chaos awaiting him. His salt-and-pepper hair was well combed, and his spectacles sat on the bridge of his nose like a severe librarian's. He cleared his throat, and the room fell silent, as if the very molecules knew better than to move in his presence.

"Enlai, Lila," Mr. Kim began, his voice a steady baritone, the embodiment of controlled composure. "I trust we're discussing the latest analysis about the Podlazice case, not the finer points of interpersonal warfare?"

Enlai was taken off guard and struggled to regain his composure. His mouth clenched and unclenched as he tried to think of an answer. He simply gave a grudging nod. Lila, on the other hand, found her customary fierce attitude temporarily subdued. Her eyes flickered uncomfortably between Mr. Kim and the coffee-stained carpet, expressing her unexpected uneasiness under his scrutinizing scrutiny.

"Good," Mr. Kim repeated, his tone unwavering. "Because our project deadline approaches, and I will not tolerate distractions. The Podlazice case is critical, with the potential to establish new ground in our profession. We cannot afford to waste time on pointless squabbles. Now, let us concentrate on the matter at hand."

Sejin, still hovering near the water cooler, stared awestruck. He’d seen Mr. Kim handle many fights before, that too calmly and methodically. But this? This was like trying to dissect a live grenade.

Enlai’s gaze bore into Lila’s, and Lila squared her shoulders. Mr. Kim’s eyes flickered between them, assessing the damage. He’d been a historian once, a brilliant one they said. He still was, before he became their lead. Perhaps that’s why he understood the volatile mix of passion and ego that fuelled their work.

“Yoshi’s disappearance,” Mr. Kim said, “is our priority. We owe it to him—and to history—to find answers. Accusations won’t get us there.”

Lila hesitated, her eyes darting between Enlai and Mr. Kim before she spoke up, "But what if there's more—"

"No buts," Mr. Kim interjected, his gaze sweeping over the assembled team. "We're a team. Enlai, Lila, Sejin—all of us. We have already lost two members, so buckle up! Let's channel this energy into solving the puzzle. And if anyone has information, share it. No more secrets."

Enlai glanced at Lila, and for a moment, they were allies again, bound by a common purpose. Sejin edged away from the water cooler, ready to dive back into the documents.

As Mr. Kim turned to leave, he paused. “And one more thing,” he said, his gaze lingering on the flickering fluorescent light. “If you need a way to express your emotions, try playing the orangutan ribcage ukulele. It worked for me during the Coffee Machine Rebellion.”

…

Lila stood on the curb, silhouetted against the setting light. She held her handbag tightly and waited for Nick to unlock the car.

As the doors clicked open, she slid into the passenger seat, the cool leather of the seat doing little to soothe her heated temper. Nick slipped into the driver's seat beside her.

"I just can't believe Enlai. He's so blinded by Dahyun's act, it's so irritating. She's playing the innocent card by resigning, claiming she loved Yoshi, and Enlai buys it!"

Nick started the car, and it hummed to life. He shifted in his seat to face her. A subtle smile graced his lips as he listened to her rant. Lila's breaths came in short, angry bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she yelled her frustrations.

"Enlai has always been the softer-hearted one. But you and I know better, Lila. We can see through the pretence. Dahyun's acts seem suspicious, and we will find the evidence we need."

As she continued to vent, Nick reached over, his hand gently brushing against the nape of her neck. His touch was surprisingly cold. Lila's voice stuttered as his fingers started massaging the stiff muscles at the base of her skull. It was a practiced motion, almost like he had known the secrets of her body's responses.

"You're always so stressed, Lila," Nick said. "You need to learn to let go, to trust that things will unfold as they should."

His fingers caressed her neck delicately, exerting just enough pressure to make her eyes flutter in ecstasy. Lila's complaints soon faded into a contented sigh, the battle leaving her with each passing second.

Nick's smile widened as his thumb and forefinger began tracing the delicate contours of her neck. Lila's head lolled to the side, and her body surrendered to his touch. She was vaguely aware of the car starting to move, but nothing else.

"Just rest, Lila," Nick chuckled. "Let me take care of everything."