Whyme?

In the center of a tidy office room sits a wooden table, flanked by an office chair. Two lush plants adorn the left corner, while a water filter stands quietly in the right. Just inside the door, a small table and an armchair couch add a touc h of warmth. The room is pristine—everything in its rightful place, free of dirt or dust, exuding a calm, professional charm.But this cozy facade is deceptive. Only a fool would believe this room reflects the reality beyond its walls. The office lies at the end of a chilling hallway that feels ripped from a horror film—an abandoned hospital or a zombie apocalypse set. The moment you step into the corridor, an eerie coldness envelops you. A flickering, dim light casts shadows, amplifying the dread. Bloodstains smear the walls, whispering tales of those who dared oppose the ruthless figures who roam here. A foul stench, dizzying and untraceable, clogs the air, making it hard to breathe.Who in their right mind would place such a pristine office in this forsaken place? The answer is Adrian Heuristic, a businessman cloaked in the respectable guise of A&H Steel and Motor Industry. But this is merely a mask for his true, monstrous nature—a twisted personality that leaves you questioning which deity could save you from him. Heartless, he cares little whether the person before him is man or woman. I'm an unfortunate soul, cursed to wonder daily why I'm trapped in this wretched life, now sitting here to strike a deal with him.As I wait in the chair, Adrian is absent, but the sound of footsteps echoes closer, each step of his leather shoes striking the cold floor with authority, quickening my pulse. "Miss Ceira Martinez," he says, my name rolling off his tongue in a melodic, deceptively soft tone that heightens my unease. I turn, schooling my face into a mask of indifference. If ever there were a living embodiment of the devil disguised as an angel, Adrian is it—a bitter candy cloaked in sweetness. His golden, wavy hair, honeyed eyes, fair skin, and delicate features, framed by a crisp white shirt with rolled sleeves and grey trousers, could make anyone believe they've glimpsed an angel. His smile, warm and inviting, feels like a reunion with a long-lost friend, but it sends shivers down my spine.He raises a hand, signaling two bouncers to remain outside. One, tan and bald, the other pale with a scarred forehead, both clad in tight black t-shirts and dark pants, their muscles bulging as if inflated. "Did you miss me?" Adrian asks, his smile so disarming it could make any unaware heart swoon—perhaps even propose on the spot. But I know the truth behind his facade. His charm is a suffocating trap, a surreal mask I've seen slip to reveal the sinister reality beneath. The memory of his true, chilling nature lingers, a reminder that even the most innocent face can hide a criminal soul.