MEIN: ANTRAPADA

The man from the thirteenth floor

I checked my reflection in the mirror a few more times this morning.

My hair was neatly tied into a bun. My clothes didn't look wrinkled. Today's makeup was quite perfect—not too much, not too plain. I had even prepared everything since last night: the bag, documents, shoes, outfit. Perfect.

And I was ready for my first day of work at the new company.

Supposedly.

"Hurry up, Nella! We're running out of time, and that's not even counting the traffic!!"

That was Olethea's seventh shout of the morning. I knew the exact number because I was counting them—an old habit I couldn't shake, turning things I couldn't control into data I could record and remember.

The first shout was at 06:31. With an interval of exactly two and a half minutes between each one.

I rushed out of my room immediately before Thea could grow her fangs.

And sure enough. My best friend was already standing with her hands on her hips in front of our boarding house gate. Her face looked exhausted before the day had even properly begun, her eyes sweeping over me from head to toe with the expression of a detective who had just uncovered a crime scene.

"Our princess sure took her sweet time getting ready today. I've been waiting out here forever." Her voice was flat with a very specific intonation—the tone Olethea Varne used when she had passed the angry phase and entered the exhausted phase—which was far more dangerous.

"You know our office orientation starts at 07:30. The commute takes fifteen minutes, excluding traffic, and it’s already 06:48. How do you explain this, the honorable Miss Antonella Beatriz Sienne?"

I immediately linked my arm through hers, offering the widest smile I could muster this early in the morning. A flirting tactic that never failed.

"Forgive your servant, Your Majesty." I pulled her along to start walking before she could even respond. "We have to look perfect for today, you know? Now smile, and your servant here will cover the transit fare today. Deal?"

Olethea stared at me for three full seconds.

Then she let out a long sigh, the way someone does when they are too tired because they know that arguing with me won't change a thing. And she would only end up losing anyway

.

"The ride home, too."

"Deal. The ride home, too," I replied.

✦

We arrived at 07:22 in front of the office building after a slight jog from the nearest bus station to cut down on time.

A doorman—probably in his late 40s or 50s—smiled warmly at us and opened the lobby door so we could head inside.

A few minutes before the orientation began. Olethea remained silent, but I could tell from the way she walked—her shoulders dropping slightly, her steps no longer rushed. She was relieved. I was too, but I would never admit it.

The Aldric & Co. building was grander than it appeared in the photos during my interview. Fifteen stories, with dark glass reflecting the early morning sky, which was still a hazy gray. The high ceiling made the sound of footsteps echo farther than they should, creating an impression of grandeur and professionalism. Ivory-white marble, dim yet elegant lighting, a reception desk to the right with two people who already looked impeccably professional for seven in the morning. The ground floor lobby felt calmer than I had imagined. Too calm, even. There was something in its proportions that felt deliberate—too symmetrical, too controlled. As if whoever built it wanted to ensure that not a single element was out of place. Too precise.

I liked it. And I was slightly uncomfortable with the fact that I liked it.

"Hey." Olethea nudged my arm gently. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." I exhaled once. "Just analyzing."

"You're analyzing people again, Nella."

"I'm analyzing our new work environment."

"Nella." Her tone shifted—softer, more serious. The kind of tone she only used when she was genuinely earnest and wanted me to listen. "You've done this before. You know how it goes. Nothing will be beyond your grasp; it’s just like usual."

I knew that.

But there was a difference between knowing and feeling. And this morning, I felt both, with a gap that seemed wider than usual. It felt a bit uncanny.

I gave a single nod.

A few employees moved with a rhythm they clearly knew by heart—steps that weren't rushed, yet no one was wasting time. Efficient. Structured. Neat. It was as if not a single flaw or mistake was permitted in this building.

I had already begun noting the patterns, as usual, until—

Someone stepped out of the elevator on the left.

I didn't look at him directly at first. What caught my attention initially was just a movement in my peripheral vision—someone walking in a certain manner, a way that made the space around him feel slightly different for no reason I could immediately explain. It wasn't because he was large or loud. Quite the contrary.

He was calm. Too calm for someone moving with large, precise strides. A faint cologne wafted through—sharp, yet strangely comforting and familiar. Like I had smelled it somewhere before. But I couldn't recall where or when.

He was reading something in his hand—work documents, seemingly—and his eyes didn't lift from the page even once as he walked. Deeply focused.

Then, someone from the reception desk called out my name.

Reflexively, I spun around.

And my step and his step met at the exact same corner, at the exact same second.

The coffee in his hand—which turned out to be there, though I only noticed it now—tilted slightly. It didn't spill entirely, just a small splash caught the sleeve of my jacket before he pulled his hand back with an incredibly fast reflex. Too fast.

"Sorry—" I looked up.

He wore a dark suit, a white shirt without a tie, and hair that was neat but didn't look like he had tried too hard to make it so—as if it just naturally fell into place.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." His voice was calm. Not the kind of calm that hurriedly tries to soothe, but a calm that felt like it was his default mode. As if he didn't possess any other mode. He glanced at the small stain on my jacket sleeve for a moment. "Your shirt—"

"It's not a problem." I looked down at the stain too. Small.

Manageable. "It's my fault too, I wasn't looking—"

"Rui." He extended his hand. No further apologies, no lengthy explanations. Just a name. As if that were enough.

And for some reason, it was.

"Antonella." I took his hand. A handshake that was brief, precise, not overdone. Yet it felt intense—like someone accustomed to doing everything in exact measure, neither too little nor too much. I had shaken hands with many people.

This was no different. It shouldn't have been different. But my hand let go half a second later than it should have, and I had no logical explanation for that.

"Forgive me, it's my first day here."

"I know." One corner of his mouth twitched slightly for a brief moment—not a full smile, more like an acknowledgment.

"Welcome to the thirteenth floor."

He continued on his way.

I stood there for a moment… with a feeling I couldn't immediately put a name to. It wasn't admiration. It wasn't discomfort.

It was more like—familiarity. Like something I had seen before but couldn't remember where.

"Who was that?" Olethea was already by my side, her voice low and her tone highly specific, snapping me out of my temporary daze.

"I don't know… Someone from the thirteenth floor,apparently."

"Apparently. I don't know either." Olethea repeated the word with an intonation that required no response from me.

But as the elevator doors slid open and we all stepped inside, I realized one small detail that shouldn't have mattered—yet for some reason, I couldn't ignore it.

Olethea nudged my shoulder and whispered right into my ear, "Did what just happened bother you?"

I nodded. A little, yes.

"Are you sure you don't recognize him?" Olethea asked, her tone growing more serious.

I paused for a moment, trying to search my memory. "Yeah, it's my first time meeting him. But it feels familiar—like we've met before, but I don't know where."

"Strange. He even knew your name." Olethea stared toward the now-closed elevator door. "Usually, people would frown or look annoyed."

I fell silent after Olethea's remark.

True, usually people get angry when they are busy and someone bumps into them.

But he had only smiled reassuringly, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.

I allowed the thought to linger until the elevator doors opened—then I brushed it away. It made sense.

Maybe there was a new hire announcement. Maybe he had seen the roster. Maybe he was just like that—kind, calm, used to paying attention to details. Maybe I was just overthinking the situation. Maybe it was just the first day jitters and my brain was looking for patterns where none existed. Maybe—

There were plenty of logical explanations.

And I always believed in logical explanations.

But as the elevator doors shut, I realized one thing that didn't fit into any list of logical explanations.

I hadn't mentioned my name.