Sure enough, Elara, clearly fed up, agreed to meet Erik for coffee just to shut him up. She didn't even try to hide her boredom as she walked away, leaving Erik to pat himself on the back for his "success."
The image in my mind shifted, showing what had happened just yesterday, before the unfortunate encounter where Elara and Erik had passed by me and my parents.
Elara looked like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin as Erik trailed after her like a lost puppy. His voice oozed with that revolting fake charm that only an idiot like him could believe was attractive.
"Come on, Elara, just one coffee! What's the harm? I promise you'll have a great time." Erik's grin was so wide I thought his face might split in half. God, what a moron.
Elara's shoulders slumped, and she stopped walking, clearly done with this nonsense. "Erik, I'm not interested. I've told you this, what, five times now?"
Erik's grin didn't falter. If anything, he seemed even more determined. Like a particularly stubborn fungus. "You just haven't given me a chance to show you how much fun I can be! I mean, come on, I'm not that bad, right?"
Elara's eyes narrowed, and I could practically hear her brain screaming, Yes, you are. But instead, she sighed in defeat. "Fine. One coffee. But after that, we're done."
Erik puffed up like a peacock, clearly thinking he'd won some sort of prize. If only he knew he was about as appealing as a week-old sandwich.
As the image shifted to show the moment when they'd passed by me and my parents, I could feel my stomach twist in disgust. Erik's eyes had locked onto us like a predator spotting prey, and without missing a beat, he'd thrown his arm around Elara's shoulders, yanking her close like she was some kind of trophy.
Elara's face twisted into a grimace of pure disgust, and I could practically hear her inner monologue: Why is this happening to me? But Erik was too busy smirking at us to notice. Of course, he didn't notice. He was too busy being a complete waste of oxygen.
The moment they were out of our sight, Elara jerked herself free from Erik's grasp like she'd just touched something slimy. She spun around, glaring daggers at him. "Don't ever do that again."
Erik just laughed, the sound grating on my nerves even through the memory. "Relax, Elara. You're going to give yourself wrinkles if you keep frowning like that."
Elara looked like she was about two seconds away from strangling him, but instead, she just stormed off, leaving Erik standing there like the clueless idiot he was, still grinning like he'd just won the lottery.
"What a giant forceur," I muttered to myself, feeling both pity for Elara and a strong desire to punch something preferably Erik.
The image faded, and I was left sitting in my parents' office, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by how spectacularly everything was going wrong.
[Well, that was… something,] the system commented dryly, clearly as unimpressed as I was.
"Yeah, something all right. Something that makes me want to throw myself off a cliff," I muttered, trying to process how the universe had decided to screw me over this badly.
[Look, on the bright side, I've got some good news,] the system chimed in, sounding a bit more cheerful, as if that would magically fix the mess I was in. [You can still recruit Elara into the company. In fact, that might actually help improve your standing with her.]
"Really?" I perked up, though I was still skeptical. "You think that could work? After all, she already seems to hate me, and we've barely even met."
[Absolutely,] the system reassured me. [If you can show Elara that you're genuinely interested in her talents and not just trying to manipulate her like someone else we know, she might start to warm up to you. Plus, you've got that Strategic Planning Skill, remember? Use it to stand out in the company first. Make your parents see that you've got potential. That way, when you recommend Elara, they'll take you seriously.]
I nodded slowly, feeling a glimmer of hope. "So, I've got to prove myself first, huh? No pressure or anything."
[Right! And let's be honest, it can't be any worse than what's already happened. We're already in the hole; might as well start digging out.]
"Fair point," I sighed. "Alright. I've got five days left to turn this ship around. Time to put that Strategic Planning Skill to use and show these people that Amara Lyselle isn't just some spoiled rich girl chasing after a human dumpster fire like Erik."
[Exactly. And who knows? Maybe by the end of it, Elara won't want to spit in your face every time she sees you. Baby steps, right?]
I couldn't help but laugh, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "Baby steps," I agreed. "Alright, let's do this. No more messing around. I'm going to make my mark at Lyselle Media, and then I'm going to bring Elara on board. And Erik can go jump off a cliff."
[That's the spirit!] the system cheered. [Now, let's get to work. You've got a company to impress and a heroine to recruit. No time to waste!]
With a deep breath, I turned my attention to the stack of documents sitting on my desk. They looked harmless enough, just a few files that needed organizing. But then again, how hard could it be to sort through a few papers? I'd been a history teacher before all this madness—if I could wrangle a classroom of teenagers into learning about the French Revolution, surely I could handle some basic paperwork.
I picked up the first file and skimmed through it. It seemed to be a list of clients who had worked with Lyselle Media in the past year, mostly for promotional campaigns and product placements. There were familiar names, some big brands I'd seen in advertisements and others that were completely foreign to me. The task at hand was to sort these clients alphabetically into separate folders.
Piece of cake, right?
Well, as it turned out, sorting documents in the world of corporate entertainment wasn't as straightforward as I'd imagined. The names of the clients weren't just company names some of them were under pseudonyms or brands owned by parent companies. And then there were the artists and influencers, many of whom had stage names that didn't exactly follow the rules of the alphabet. Great. Just great.
"This is why teachers drink," I muttered to myself as I tried to figure out whether "StarGaze Studios" should be filed under "S" for "Studios" or "G" for "Gaze." And what about "Diamond Rose"? Did I file it under "D" for "Diamond" or "R" for "Rose"? This was turning into a nightmare fast.
I sorted through the stack, my brain trying to switch from historical dates and events to the convoluted logic of the entertainment industry. It wasn't the most intellectually stimulating task, but it gave me a chance to think. As I shuffled through the papers, I tried to wrap my head around how to approach my next steps at Lyselle Media.
The truth was, I was still a history teacher at heart. But if I wanted to prove myself in this new world, I had to learn quickly and adapt even faster. Sorting papers was just the start I needed to show my parents that I was serious about contributing to the company.
"Alphabetical order? You've got this, Amara," I told myself, a little pep talk to keep me going. "You survived grading essays on Napoleon; you can survive this."
Eventually, I finished sorting the files into neat piles, each one labeled and ready to go.