With a graceful stride, Milane entered the office, only to be met with an eerie silence that hung in the air.
There were no clamorous demands reverberating across the space, no voices ordering her to tiptoe or summoning instant coffee service.
As she checked the day's schedule, a detail caught her eye that explained the eerie tranquility – executives from MiFuture Corporation were slated for a visit, presumably to discuss a potential collaboration. Milane couldn't help but wonder if Donovan, the head of MiFuture, had orchestrated this visit to settle some kind of score.
A soft-spoken voice from across the office interrupted her thoughts, pulling her back into the present. "Milane, coffee…" it called.
Instantly snapping into action, Milane headed to the pantry to prepare the coffee as requested.
Upon entering Lucas's office, she was taken aback by the sight before her. Lucas, who was usually a picture of stern authority, appeared sickly and uncomfortable. He was hunched in his chair, a deep flush coloring his features, his demeanor grim as though grappling with some internal struggle.
Placing the coffee on his desk, Milane couldn't help but express her concern. "Mr. Leedon, here's your coffee. Are you feeling alright? Do you need me to call Dr. Sauders?"
He dismissed her offer with a shake of his head, signaling for her to leave him be.
Milane nodded in compliance, turning to exit the room. However, before she could make her way out, his voice halted her in her tracks. "Wait, come here for a moment."
Complying, Milane returned to his side. His eyes, usually stern and calculating, were now fixed on her blouse. She noticed the intensity of his scrutiny, a curiosity that seemed to carry a hint of recognition.
"Is there an issue, Mr. Leedon?" Milane inquired, curiosity of her own piqued by his unusual behavior.
"Your blouse looks oddly familiar…" Lucas began, his voice tinged with a peculiar uncertainty.
"Almost like the one... Master was wearing…," he thought.
Milane's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, this? It's just a simple shirt from Uniqlo. A pretty common design, so you might have seen it somewhere else," she replied casually, not quite grasping the significance of his observation.
As Lucas's thoughts swirled within him, he pondered the uncanny resemblance. Could it be possible? The notion that Milane and Master were the same person flitted across his mind, albeit fleetingly.
Flustered and doubting the absurdity of his own thought, he dismissed it. "Probably my imagination after staring at those photos a hundred times," he reasoned internally.
His brow furrowed, his thoughts clearly lingering in the realm of suspicion. "Even the contours seem oddly alike..."
Dismissing the notion as improbable, he shook his head. "Never mind. You can go now."
Leaving his office, Milane didn't give the odd exchange much thought, chalking it up to Lucas's unusual demeanor due to his apparent illness.
The day sailed by with surprising ease, and by 5 PM, Milane had already received five photos from Lu. As the clock struck 5:30 PM, the anticipated MiFuture team arrived, led by none other than Donovan.
"Hello, Milane, always a pleasure," Donovan greeted her, though his eyes betrayed an eagerness that transcended professional boundaries.
"Is there some sort of contagious fever spreading around? Even Donovan's turning into a human tomato," Milane pondered silently, amused by the sight.
"Good to see you again, Mr. Luthers. Let me inform Mr. Leedon about your arrival," Milane responded with practiced politeness.
With Donovan in tow and his team following suit, they moved toward Lucas's office. A courteous knock preceded Milane's address to her boss, "Mr. Leedon, MiFuture is here for the meeting. May I guide them in?"
Amidst the office's apparent hush, a sudden commotion erupted from within Lucas's office, catching everyone's attention.
Then, unexpectedly, a high-pitched "AHHh!" of shock pierced the air. A mixture of concern and urgency pushed Donovan to suggest opening the door to check on Lucas's well-being.
Lucas's voice was cut off mid-sentence as the group rushed into the office, a disarray of human curiosity and collective concern.
"Are you all right, Mr...?" Donovan's inquiry trailed off into stunned silence as his gaze absorbed the unexpected scene before him.
Inside the room, Lucas appeared flustered, his shirt hanging halfway off his body, one shoulder exposed along with a glimpse of his chest. His belt had been hurriedly undone, and his complexion was a blazing red.
It took little imagination to figure out what they had inadvertently interrupted.
"I apologize for barging in like this. We heard a scream and I thought it best to ensure your well-being," Donovan stammered, his own usually composed demeanor rattled by the scene he had stumbled upon.
Lucas could only manage a stiff nod, his throat too constricted for words. His gaze shifted from one shocked face to another, the embarrassment almost too much to bear. It felt like he had been caught in a surreal and utterly mortifying dream.
Summoning every ounce of composure, he rapidly adjusted his disheveled appearance. With as much calm as he could muster under the circumstances, he explained, "Please accept my apologies. I've been suffering from a fever and had to undress to alleviate the heat."
The room was heavy with a blend of surprise, amusement, and thinly veiled disbelief. Lucas wished the floor would crack open and swallow him whole.
Donovan acknowledged, his response measured, "I understand. Perhaps today isn't the best time for our meeting. Mr. Leedon, it's crucial you take care of your health. We can reschedule for a more suitable day."
"Your understanding is greatly appreciated," Lucas responded, relieved that the situation wasn't escalating further. Turning to Milane, he directed, "Milane, please coordinate to find another date for the MiFuture meeting. Make it a top priority."
"Certainly, Mr. Leedon," Milane answered, her cheeks still flushed from the unexpected spectacle she had inadvertently witnessed.
"Thank you for your consideration. Farewell, Mr. Leedon," Donovan concluded, taking his leave swiftly.
With the MiFuture team gone, Lucas slumped into his chair, the remnants of the awkward incident swirling around him. He massaged his temples, attempting to will away the lingering discomfort that had infiltrated the office space. Restoring his professional demeanor seemed a formidable task, given the unusual escapade he had just been through.