Aden slumped at his desk, the glaring white light of his monitor mocking him with its empty document. He flicked his pen between his fingers, staring at the blinking cursor like it had personally wronged him.
’Another thrilling day of being a corporate drone,’ he thought, suppressing the urge to chuck his pen across the room.
As a copywriter, Aden spent most of his days churning out soulless product descriptions, ad copy, and email campaigns for people who probably wouldn’t even read them. His latest masterpiece? A series of catchy slogans for a line of organic cat food.
’Purr-fectly balanced meals for your furry overlord,’ he thought bitterly. ’Pulitzer-worthy.’
He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. 8:45 PM.
’Love that for me,’ he thought, letting out a sigh that could have powered a wind turbine.
Most of his coworkers had already gone home, leaving him in the eerie silence of an almost-empty office. Just him, the hum of the air conditioning, and the occasional clack of keys from a lone coworker.
His phone buzzed against the desk, drawing him out of his misery. He didn’t need to check to know who it was.
Kaz.
The bane of his existence.
He unlocked the screen to see a string of messages.
Kaz:
Kaz: "I’m serious, Aden. Don’t screw this up."
Kaz: "Or I’m turning in my BL draft UNEDITED, and you’ll have to deal with the fallout."
Aden dragged a hand down his face. ’My sister. The genius writer. The drama queen.’
Kaz was his younger sister, his only family left after their parents’ passing, and her one true passion was torturing him with her brilliant BL novels. She was talented, no doubt, but she had a way of weaponizing her writing when she didn’t get her way.
Still, he couldn’t help but type out a reply.
"Relax. I’m on it. No unedited drafts, okay? You’re welcome."
As soon as he hit send, the sound of approaching footsteps made him glance up. Tanaka, his manager, loomed over his desk, holding a clipboard and wearing his usual "I don’t care about your feelings" expression.
"Aden," Tanaka said curtly.
"Hey, Tanaka," Aden said, straightening in his chair. "Did you hear back about my leave request?"
Tanaka nodded, but his lack of enthusiasm sent a chill down Aden’s spine. "It’s been denied."
Aden blinked, unsure if he’d heard correctly. "Denied? Are you serious?"
"We’re short-staffed," Tanaka replied, his voice void of sympathy. "You’re one of our top performers. We can’t afford to let you take time off right now."
"Right," Aden said, deadpan. "Because God forbid the company function without my award-winning cat food slogans."
Tanaka frowned, clearly unamused by Aden’s sarcasm. "We’ll reevaluate in three months. Until then, I suggest you focus on your deadlines."
With that, Tanaka turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Aden fuming in his chair.
’Reevaluate in three months? Yeah, sure. Let’s pencil that in between my emotional breakdowns and chronic back pain.’
Aden slouched back in his chair, letting his head fall against the headrest. All he wanted was a week off—just one week to sleep, maybe read something that wasn’t a product manual, and avoid Kaz’s endless demands for chocolate.
His phone buzzed again.
Kaz: "Also, can you get milk? We’re out."
Aden closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ’Of course we are. Anything else, Your Majesty? A crown, perhaps?’
He grabbed his bag and stood, deciding he was done for the day. If Tanaka wanted him to burn out for the sake of corporate glory, fine. But he wasn’t staying a minute longer tonight.
The streets outside the office were quieter than usual. Aden walked briskly, his thoughts too preoccupied to notice the crisp evening air.
’Twenty-five years old. Never been in a relationship. My social life is dead, my job sucks, and my sister uses me as her personal assistant. Truly living the dream.’
He reached the convenience store, grabbed the chocolate and milk, and headed back out, his bag feeling heavier than it should. The crosswalk light flashed green, and Aden stepped off the curb, his mind wandering as usual.
’Maybe if I fake a medical emergency, I can get some time off. Nothing major—just, like, a mild coma.’
The screech of tires yanked him out of his thoughts. He turned his head just in time to see the blinding headlights of a car barreling toward him.
For a moment, everything slowed.
A voice echoed faintly in his ears, distant yet oddly familiar.
"Your Highness!"
Aden’s heart lurched, but before he could process anything, the world went dark.