Haari worked in one of the sleek corporate buildings towering over Chandigarh's bustling Sector 17. The office, perched on the second-top floor of a modern glass complex, overlooked a chaotic sprawl of honking scooters, street vendors hawking snacks, and flickering neon signs. 

From up here, the city thrummed with life—traffic weaving through narrow lanes, the faint scent of fried food drifting up—but the grind inside was the same old slog. Haari sitting on his desk in the room, his impressive height making him a natural focal point despite his unassuming air. 

His black hair was a tousled mess, strands falling unevenly across his forehead and curling slightly at the ends, giving him a casual, effortless vibe. His dark eyes, deep and shadowed, held a quiet intensity—nothing extraordinary, just average like the rest of his plain but pleasant face. With a lightly tanned complexion and a jawline sharp enough to notice but not chiseled, he filled out his dark jeans and worn jacket with a lanky build, his presence oddly magnetic despite its simplicity.

"Bro, I'm donezo. Why's the company dumping this much work on us in, like, March? It's not even tax season!" Haari groaned, flopping onto a wooden table in the hallway like it was his last refuge. His long legs dangled off the edge, emphasizing his height as he rubbed his tired eyes.

"Yo, catch this—hydration station incoming," Rafta said, tossing a cold soda can from the vending machine with a flick of his wrist. Rafta burst into the scene with electric energy, impossible to ignore despite his self-proclaimed laziness. His black hair was wild and voluminous, spiking in all directions like he'd just rolled out of bed—and somehow, it suited him perfectly, adding to his roguish charm. 

His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, framed by thick lashes that made them pop, while his lean, wiry build buzzed with restless vitality. Dressed in a faded hoodie and ripped jeans, his handsome face grinned wide and easy, like he was just here to stir things up.

"Bet, I'll send you cash later," Haari mumbled, popping the can with a tssssk that sounded like his soul escaping. The soda fizzed—sweet, sharp, and ice-cold against his lips.

"Psh, don't sweat it. Work's like bad Wi-Fi—always there, always dropping. Finish one task, and boom, another's lagging," Rafta said, leaning beside the table, his wild hair catching the light. "Just kick back and live your main character arc."

"You say that every time, and that's why you're still not promoted," Haari shot back, half-laughing, half annoyed, his messy strands shifting as he tilted his head.

Rafta chuckled, gazing out at the city—its concrete jungle softened by blooming trees. "Real talk, though—second-top floor hits different. Perspective, man."

"How you figure?" Haari asked, sipping his drink, his dark eyes narrowing with quiet curiosity.

"Check it: from up here, it's like the whole city's running under my sneakers," Rafta said, smirking like he'd dropped a gem, tapping his scuffed shoes on the floor with restless energy.

"Yeah, and I'd bet those sneakers aren't even yours," Oki snapped, storming in with a no-nonsense presence that silenced the room. Tall and lean, her straight posture commanded respect, her jet-black hair cropped into a neat pixie cut without a strand out of place. 

Her sharp, dark eyes pierced through everything, missing nothing, and her crisp black blazer and pressed slacks screamed discipline. Her world revolved around work, and her stern glare could snap anyone into action—or make them wish they'd never slacked off, except Rafta.

Rafta spun, hitting her with a smug grin that danced in his lively eyes. "Don't forget, you're running under someone else's shoes too. Keep dreaming big—those feet might kick you out the door."

Haari cackled, nearly choking on his soda, his lanky frame shaking. Oki was the squad's backbone—unrelentingly strict but quietly caring, keeping them in line with a mix of glares and subtle support.

"Facts, but y'all still got a pile of files to sort, so quit whining and get back to it," Oki said, her sharp eyes daring anyone to argue, arms crossed over her minimalist outfit.

"Chill, you're going to make my ears bleed? I was just dropping some manly wisdom for Haari," Rafta said, flexing like he was about to launch a vlog, his wiry frame buzzing with energy.

"What kinda wisdom's a slacker got?" Oki fired back, her stern face unyielding as she threw shade.

Rafta's grin widened, and he leaned in close—too close—just to mess with her. "You wanna know? It's top-tier, men-only tea. You couldn't handle the drip," he, dead serious but with that twinkle in his eye that says he's 100% trolling.

Oki didn't flinch. She threw a quick jab at his shoulder; Rafta dodged with a cackle, sidestepping like it was instinct. "Whoa, easy, Kung Fu Boss! You'll hurt yourself with all that anger."

"What a bummer," he added, shaking his head like she'd let him down. "Alright, enough—let's go back to our slavory."

"Not so fast," Oki said, shoving a thick stack of files at him like it was a personal challenge. "Re-sort these alphabetically in the system and then re-check the calculation. And no, 'Z' doesn't come first just 'cause you're lazy."

"Alphabetically? What even are these?" Rafta stared at the pile, his wild hair bouncing as he tilted his head in dismay.

""Management's bills—they're crying about not enough maintenance funds, so we gotta double-check their math," Oki said, her face screaming "do it or else."

"Why can't they figure it out? I'm not their calculator!" Rafta whined, already over it.

"'Cause it's our job, dummy! Hop to it!" Oki barked, her glare basically a death ray.

"Haari—" Rafta started, throwing him a "save me" look, his dark eyes pleading.

"Nah, Kichiro-san, sit—focus on your own stuff," Oki cut in, shutting it down, her tall figure looming.

"Rafta's been slacking too much—this is his solo punishment," she added, ice-cold and unbothered.

"Sorry, man, I'm out," Haari said, slumping back, his worn jacket creasing as his long legs stretched out.

"Perfect. I'm dead. Catch me haunting the break room," Rafta moaned, flopping over the files with theatrical flair, his wild hair splaying across the table.

"Habi-san, I'm done with my stack. Need a hand with anything else?" Ashi's voice broke through, bright and warm, her presence lighting up the room. She was a vision of perfection in a petite frame, barely reaching Haari's shoulder yet commanding attention effortlessly. 

Her flawless hourglass figure—full hips, cinched waist, generous bust—accentuated her allure, every curve sculpted at perfect angles. Her raven-black hair cascaded in lustrous waves, shimmering like silk past her lower back, framing her delicate face. 

Her vivid amber eyes glowed with warmth and confidence, almond-shaped and striking beneath arched brows, set against smooth, porcelain-pale skin with a rosy flush on her cheeks. 

"Me! Help me!" Rafta's head snapped up, his lively eyes begging as he waved a hand.

"You haven't started yet," Oki said, squinting at him like he was a lost cause, her sharp gaze unrelenting.

"I'm about to," Rafta shot back, waving a pen like it proved something, his roguish grin faltering.

Oki ignored him, turning to Ashi. "Help Kichiro-san instead."

"On it," Ashi said with a quick nod, her silky hair swaying as she pivoted toward Haari's desk, her heels clicking softly.

"What?!" Rafta's jaw dropped, his chair creaking as he leaned forward. "I'm the one dying here! Why's he get the lifeline?"

"Shut it," Oki snapped, pinning him with a stern look. "No help for you today. Earn it."

Ashi reached Haari's desk, brushing a lustrous strand behind her ear with a delicate hand. "Kichiro-san, need anything?"

Haari looked up, blinking through exhaustion, his dark eyes meeting her amber. "Yeah, but what about your work

"I already finished my work," she said, a small, proud smile tugging at her lips.

"That's… insanely fast," he said, eyebrows lifting, studying her flawless symmetry like she'd just aced something he couldn't.

Ashi tilted her head, caught off guard, her amber eyes softening. "You think so?"

"Uh, yeah." Haari chuckled, rubbing his neck, his lanky frame shifting awkwardly. "Alright, if you're free, help me with this file mess."

"Let's do it," she said, sliding into the chair beside him, her sholder brushing his arm as she moved. The air shifted—just a little.

One Hour Later

Ashi frowned, tapping her pen against the desk, her delicate fingers precise. "Hold up. Some of these entries are missing."

Haari leaned over, his tall frame hunching as their shoulders nearly touched, scanning the page with his shadowed eyes. "You're right. We'll need the old files from the storeroom."

He pushed back his chair, standing to his full height. "I'll grab them."

"Wait—Kichiro-san, I'll come too," Ashi said, half-standing, her petite figure rising quickly, voice eager.

"Nah, it's fine," he waved her off, his worn jacket shifting. "Just some files. I've got it."

Ashi didn't sit, her amber eyes insistent. "That storeroom's a mess—boxes, dust, chaos. One person'll take forever. Let's go together."

Haari hesitated, then smirked faintly, his messy hair falling into his face. "Alright, teamwork it is. Lead on."

"Hey, where are Nicawa-san and Kichiro-san?" Oki asked, her voice tight as she scanned the empty desks.

Rafta didn't look up from his files, his pen scratching lazily. "Beats me. You said 'focus,'so I didn't notice them leaving," Rafta said, frustration in his tone.

"I need Nicawa-san's help, but I don't know where she went," Oki said, her voice laced with exasperation.

"Hey, I'm working here. Could you stop bothering me?" Rafta said, irritated as Oki jabbed him with her elbow.

"Hey, what was that for?" Rafta exclaimed.

Down in the storeroom, dust motes danced in the dim light, the shelf are so tall here impossible to reach on the top without leder as Haari rifled through a box. "Hey, Nicawa-san, thanks for this. I'd be lost without you."

Ashi glanced over, brushing a cobweb off her sleeve with a graceful flick, her rosy cheeks glowing faintly in the dim light. "No need. Two heads, faster hands—right?" Her voice was steady, but her quick smile threw him off, warm and sensual.

Half an hour later, Haari's head snapped up, his dark eyes lighting up. "Got it! The files—they're up there."

Ashi squinted at the top shelf, her amber eyes narrowing. "Where? Oh—that's high."

"Yeah," Haari muttered, craning his tall neck. "Too high to grab."

"There was a ladder last time, right?" He scanned the cluttered corners, his tousled hair shifting. "One of those metal ones."

Ashi turned, hands on her full hips, her accentuating curves. "I don't see it. You sure it was here?"

"Positive," he said, brow creasing under his messy strands. "Unless someone took it."

She bit her plump lip, glancing at the shelf. "Okay, no ladder, no stools—what now?"

Haari paced, frustration simmering in his lanky frame. "Nothing to climb. We're stuck." He met her eyes—vivid and searching—and felt a spark. A challenge.

"Kichiro-san, I have an idea," Ashi said, her tone resolute, her graceful stance unwavering.

"Really? What is it?" Haari asked, intrigued, his dark eyes flickering.

"Just follow my lead," she said, guiding him into position with a delicate hand. "Stand here."

"What are you—" Haari started, confused but compliant, his tall frame shifting.

"No questions," Ashi cut in, her amber eyes firm. "Close your eyes and sit."

Haari hesitated, then obeyed, unease flickering in his shadowed gaze as he sank down. "Okay…"

"Now, I'm going to sit on your shoulders," Ashi said, her voice steady but tinged with embarrassment, her porcelain skin flushing slightly.

Haari's eyes widened behind closed lids. "What?"

"Then you stand slowly. I'll grab the file, and you sit back down," she explained, her silky hair brushing his arm as she positioned herself.

"Is this safe?" Haari asked, his voice shaky, his lanky build tensing.

"As long as you keep your eyes shut, yeah," Ashi said, climbing into position, her petite frame surprisingly steady.

"I don't get it. How is it safe with my eyes closed? I could do this with my eyes open, too."

"You can't," Ashi said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because it's too embarrassing."

"Ahh, okay, I understand." Haari's voice trembled slightly, betraying his nervousness. "My heart is racing like it's going to explode any second. She's sitting on my shoulder."

Her thighs pressed against his shoulders—soft, close, riding up slightly. "Now stand, Kichiro-san."

"Okay," he muttered, eyes squeezed shut, his tall frame wobbling as he rose.