There was a certain art to keeping a company running smoothly.
It required precision, planning, and a deep understanding of human psychology. It also required the patience of a saint-especially when managing someone like Kennan.
Kennan, 26 years old, had the kind of face and build that could make him an idol-sharp jawline, lean but strong frame, and brown-dyed hair that made him look effortlessly cool.
Unfortunately, any illusion of charm was completely shattered the moment he opened his mouth. Blunt, overly direct, and borderline impossible to work with, Kennan was the kind of employee that made people question whether raw talent was worth the headache.
And Nadif?
Nadif was the opposite. The leader. The charmer. The one who kept things from falling apart with a mix of charisma and sheer force of will. Clients loved him, subordinates respected him, and he was damn good at what he did.
But even he had his limits.
"Kennan."
Kennan barely glanced up from his computer screen, fingers flying across the keyboard at an ungodly speed.
"Hm?"
Nadif took a slow, measured breath. "What. The. Hell. Is this?"
He slapped a file onto Kennan's desk. A very important, very urgent, very expensive client proposal. One that Kennan had rewritten. Completely.
Without asking.
Kennan finally looked up, one eyebrow arching with mild interest. "Oh. That? Fixed it."
"FIXED IT?!" Nadif's voice nearly cracked. "Kennan, this is a multi-million contract. It took the finance team an entire week to prepare!"
Kennan leaned back in his chair, looking supremely unbothered.
"Yeah. And they did it wrong."
Nadif's eye twitched.
He counted to three.
He failed.
"Wrong?! Kennan, they followed the standard procedures!"
"And those procedures would've cost the company an extra 15% in unnecessary fees," Kennan replied flatly. "I optimized it."
Nadif snatched the file open, scanning the pages with the kind of desperate hope a drowning man clings to.
He saw the revised numbers.
His soul left his body. "...This is actually better."
"Obviously," Kennan deadpanned, already turning back to his screen. "You're welcome."
Nadif dragged a hand down his face. He wanted to be mad. He really, really did. But how could he, when Kennan pulled this every single time?
The man was a menace, but he was also right.
Unfortunately.
Still, there were protocols.
"You could've told me first," Nadif muttered, rubbing his temples. "Or, you know, asked before hijacking the entire proposal."
Kennan shrugged. "Didn't have time. You were in a meeting."
Nadif inhaled sharply. "That meeting was about this contract!"
Kennan blinked. "...Oh. Then I saved you time. Nice."
Nadif considered throwing himself out the nearest window.
A quiet chuckle broke through Nadif's frustration.
He turned to see Aghi, the youngest of the three at 22 years old. Tall-taller than both of them-with a build sculpted by years of sports and martial arts. A walking contradiction: imposing yet gentle, strong yet soft-hearted. The company's unofficial teddy bear.
Aghi was the kind of guy who remembered how everyone took their coffee without ever needing to ask. He always had a stash of cream buns hidden away, just in case someone needed a pick-me-up. And somehow, he smelled like freshly laundered fabric softener all the time-the kind that made you think of warm blankets and home.
And right now? He was watching the chaos unfold with barely concealed amusement.
"Mas Nadif," Aghi said, his voice rich with obvious enjoyment, "you should know by now-Mas Kennan doesn't believe in waiting."
Nadif shot him a glare. "Don't encourage him."
Aghi just grinned, entirely unrepentant.
Kennan, meanwhile, had already tuned them both out, his attention back on his screen as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just given Nadif a minor heart attack.
Nadif exhaled slowly. He needed something strong. Something that wasn't coffee-but just as potent.
. . .
Half an hour later, Nadif was back in his office, nursing a headache and finishing coffee of the morning. He had just started to relax when his phone buzzed with a message.
[Finance Dept]: Pak Nadif, did you approve the contract changes?
[Nadif]: ...Yes.
[Finance Dept]: Pak Kennan sent it in without approval.
Nadif stared at the screen.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Then, slowly, he typed back:
[Nadif]: I know. Just process it.
There was a pause.
Then-
[Finance Dept]: Understood, Sir. But could you please tell Pak Kennan to stop making our department look incompetent?
Nadif sighed.
[Nadif]: I'll try.
But they both knew it was impossible.
. . .
Lunch was supposed to be a break.
Thirty minutes of calm, thirty minutes of food, thirty minutes where he didn't have to worry about contracts, clients, or Kennan's existence.
So when that very existence walked in, Nadif already knew peace was a lost cause.
"Mas Nadif," Kennan greeted, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
Nadif finished chewing, took a deep breath, and mentally braced himself.
"What do you want?"
Kennan gave him an affronted look. "Can't I just say hello?"
Nadif smiled. A polite, customer-service-grade smile. "No."
Kennan smirked, dropping into the seat across from him. "Fair. But I actually do have something to say."
Nadif put his spoon down and laced his fingers together, the perfect image of patience.
"What now?"
Kennan took a sip of water, voice completely casual.
"You should lay off the chili. I heard you almost died in the bathroom yesterday."
Nadif's grip on his hands tightened.
"...Excuse me?"
Kennan, with zero hesitation, continued. "Pak Damar said you were in there for a long time. Thought he heard your soul leaving your body."
Aghi, who had just walked in, choked on a laugh.
Slowly, very slowly, Nadif turned to him. "You told him?"
Aghi, his most trusted assistant, his reliable right hand, had the nerve to grin. "It was funny."
Nadif inhaled through his nose, the deep, measured breath of a man keeping his composure intact.
"It was not funny," he said, his voice smooth, his smile still in place. "I was suffering."
Kennan tilted his head, unimpressed.
"And yet, you're still eating spicy food."
Nadif took another bite with the slow, deliberate movement of someone who refused to be defeated. "I like it."
Kennan raised an eyebrow. "Even if it destroys your digestive system?"
Aghi, ever the concerned one, added, "Mas Nadif, maybe you should-"
"No."
Nadif pointed his spoon at both of them. His posture was relaxed, his tone even.
But his eyes carried a warning. "I refuse to be lectured by you two of all people."
Kennan took another sip of water, completely unaffected.
"Suit yourself. Just don't blame me when you end up in the hospital."
Nadif didn't answer. He just returned to his food, chewing in silence.
But inside?
Inside, he was screaming.
. . .
By the time afternoon rolled around, Nadif was drained.
Kennan had single-handedly rewritten a major contract, terrorized the finance team, and insulted his eating habits-all before 3 PM.
And yet, despite it all, Nadif knew one thing for certain.
The company would probably collapse without him.
Kennan was a nightmare, but he was also irreplaceable.
Nadif exhaled, watching as Kennan typed away, completely unaware of the wreckage he left in his wake.
Beside him, Aghi-his ever-reliable assistant-glanced up from his own work, catching Nadif's expression.
He smirked. "Thinking of taking a long vacation, Mas Nadif?"
Nadif let out a low hum, rubbing his temples. "Tempting. Or maybe I should pick up a hobby... something relaxing."
Aghi chuckled. "Like what? Gardening? Pottery? Maybe painting?"
"At this point, I'd take anything that lets me de-stress."
Aghi leaned back, considering. "You know, exercise helps. Maybe you should come with me to the gym? Punching something works wonders."
Nadif gave him a look. "Aghi. I manage this company. I don't need to build muscle. I need to build patience."
"Which is exactly why you need it. Imagine lifting weights while pretending they're Kennan's ridiculous contract edits."
Nadif actually paused.
That... wasn't a bad idea.
Aghi grinned knowingly. "I'll text you the schedule."
Kennan, completely oblivious to the fact that his existence was the main reason Nadif needed a stress-relieving hobby, continued typing away.
And Nadif, for the first time today, felt a little more in control.
.
.
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Hi, Im back woth sidesories. Where the original work is? Ask away in comment 😘
Happy reading!!