Kenji didn't look up. "Almost. But I’m finding it hard to concentrate on the budget with such a… restrictive atmosphere."
"You are truly pathetic," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "A bottom-feeder who finds satisfaction in the most debased whims."
Miyu gripped the edge of her desk until her knuckles turned white. The sheer audacity of his leverage made her skin crawl. She looked at him as if he were something she had stepped in on the sidewalk—disgraceful, smelly, and entirely beneath her. Iya na Kao sare nagara Opantsu Misete Moraitai
With a slow, deliberate movement that felt like a trial, she reached down and pinched the hem of her skirt. She lifted it just a few inches—high enough to reveal the pristine, white lace of her underwear against her pale skin, but no further.
Kenji picked up his pen, a small, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Perfectly. The budget will be ready by dawn." Kenji didn't look up
"The report won't finish itself, Miyu-san," Kenji replied calmly, finally setting the pen down. He met her gaze. "And you want that budget approved by tomorrow morning, don't you?"
"Fine," she hissed. "If it will make you shut up and do your job, you miserable creep." "A bottom-feeder who finds satisfaction in the most
She stood up slowly, her expression shifting from mere annoyance to a mask of freezing contempt. She didn't move closer. She stayed behind the safety of the desk, but she made sure he had a clear view.