The office felt tighter than usual that morning.
Lucy moved quietly, her focus forced, her thoughts not.
Every sound felt louder.
Every glance felt longer.
She kept her head down, wiping a desk slowly.
"Lucy."
She turned.
Clara stood there again, her expression different this time—more alert.
"There are visitors today," Clara said.
Lucy nodded faintly. "Okay."
Clara leaned closer. "Not normal visitors."
Lucy paused. "What does that mean?"
Clara glanced toward the hallway. "Important ones. Since morning, everyone's been moving like they're being watched."
Lucy followed her gaze for a second, then looked away. "That's their business."
Clara studied her. "You really don't care, do you?"
Lucy picked up her cloth. "I have enough to think about already."
Clara sighed. "Fair."
A few minutes later, Lucy carried her bucket down the main corridor.
Voices echoed faintly ahead.
Not loud.
Controlled.
Professional.
She slowed slightly as she approached the turn—
Then she saw them.
A small group of men.
Well-dressed.
Standing like they owned the space.
Her steps stopped.
Her eyes narrowed.
One of them turned slightly.
And her chest tightened.
Him.
The man from the park.
The same calm posture.
The same quiet presence.
Even here.
Lucy's grip on the bucket tightened.
"…What is he doing here?" she muttered under her breath.
One of the men beside him was speaking, "Everything has been handled. We're just waiting for—"
Lucy didn't hear the rest.
Her focus was locked.
The memory flashed—
The beating.
The silence.
His stillness.
Something in her snapped.
Before she could think—
She was already walking toward him.
"Lucy—" Clara's voice came from behind, low and warning.
Too late.
Lucy stopped right in front of him.
The group went quiet.
One of the men frowned immediately. "Excuse me—"
Lucy ignored him.
Her eyes were on him.
"So…" she said, her voice steady but edged with anger, "you came here too?"
The man looked at her.
No surprise.
No confusion.
Just… recognition.
Lucy let out a small, dry laugh. "What is it this time?"
The man beside him stepped forward. "You need to step back—"
"I'm not talking to you," Lucy cut in sharply.
Clara had reached them now. "Lucy, please—"
Lucy didn't move.
Her eyes stayed on his.
"Or what?" she continued. "You're going to do the same thing you did at the park?"
Silence.
A few people nearby had started watching.
Carefully.
Quietly.
"What?" Lucy pressed. "You brought your people with you again?"
The man beside him spoke again, firmer this time. "That's enough—"
The man lifted his hand slightly.
A small gesture.
But it was enough.
The others went quiet.
Lucy noticed that.
Her brows pulled together slightly.
But she didn't step back.
Instead, she leaned forward just a little.
"Are you here to beat someone again?" she asked, her voice lower now. "Or did you come to try it here too?"
For a brief second—
Nothing moved.
Then—
He smiled.
Not wide.
Not mocking.
Just… calm.
And that irritated her even more.
Lucy scoffed. "You think this is funny?"
He didn't answer.
He just looked at her.
Like he was studying her.
Lucy felt it.
And she hated it.
"Say something," she said.
Still nothing.
Then—
He stepped past her.
Just like that.
No argument.
No explanation.
No reaction.
He walked away.
The others followed immediately.
Lucy turned sharply. "Hey—"
But he didn't stop.
Didn't even look back.
Silence lingered behind him.
Clara grabbed Lucy's arm. "Lucy, what are you doing?!"
Lucy pulled her hand away. "Did you see him?"
"Yes, I saw him!" Clara whispered harshly. "That's not the point!"
"He's the same person," Lucy said, frustrated. "From the park."
Clara blinked. "What?"
Lucy shook her head. "Nothing."
Her chest rose and fell slightly.
"That was… not normal," Clara said carefully.
Lucy let out a breath. "None of this is normal."
Clara looked toward the direction the man had gone, then back at Lucy.
"You shouldn't talk to people like that," she said quietly.
Lucy frowned. "Like what?"
Clara hesitated. "…Like you don't know who they are."
Lucy gave a short, dry laugh. "I don't care who he is."
Clara didn't respond immediately.
Then softly—"Maybe you should."
Lucy picked up her bucket again.
Her movements sharper now.
More irritated.
As she walked away, one thought stayed in her mind—
Not fear.
Not regret.
Just anger.
Across the building—
The man stopped walking.
One of the men beside him spoke carefully, "Sir, should we—"
He shook his head once.
"No."
His gaze shifted slightly.
Back toward the hallway she had walked down.
A faint smile touched his lips again.
"Leave her."