I’m Charlotte Monroe’s secretary—uptight, rigid, and by the book. For three years, I’ve never made a single mistake. Until I ran into her at a bar. I was drunk. I stormed over and spent the entire night treating her like a dog I was training. Terrified of getting fired, I lied the next day and claimed she’d met my twin brother. Charlotte stared at me, a thoughtful glint in her eye. After a long moment, she spoke. “I’ll raise your salary by five thousand a month. Give me your brother’s contact information.” 1 Last night’s high was directly proportional to this morning’s low. Right now, Charlotte was sitting in her office. Her sensual lips were stained with a trace of blood, and a distinct scratch marked the pale skin of her neck—all souvenirs from my handiwork last night. Guiltily, I averted my gaze, convinced I’d misheard her. “I’m sorry, Ms. Monroe, what did you just say?” I asked instinctively. My lapse in attention earned me a displeased frown. But she repeated herself. “Give me your brother’s contact information.” “May I ask what this is regarding?” “A personal matter.” After a long pause, I finally managed, “I’m sorry, Ms. Monroe, I don’t think I can help you. The truth is… my brother and I aren’t very close.” Charlotte raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. I pressed on, my voice stiff. “You see, after our parents divorced, my brother and I were separated. We haven’t been in contact for a long time.” “A long time, you say? Then how did he know to call me his little dog, Charlotte?” She let out a cold laugh. “Your ‘brother’ was quite rude to me yesterday. We’ve never met. The only way he could have known who I was is if you’d mentioned me to him.” The hairs on my neck stood up. How could I have forgotten that detail? Last night was… a bit of a blur. I saw Charlotte, drunk off my mind, and marched over and slapped her across the face. “Insolent mutt! Why do you not kneel before your king?” She was completely stunned. The rest is hazy. The next thing I clearly remember, I’d stripped her down to her blouse, used her jacket and silk scarf to tie her hands behind her back, and was making her kneel while addressing me as “Your Majesty.” The memory alone made my brain short-circuit. I cleared my throat. “We have had… some minimal contact. We exchanged a few jokes. I never thought he’d take them seriously…” “My brother is just impulsive and reckless. If he offended you in any way, please don’t take it to heart.” “I’ve already taken it to heart,” she said, her expression unreadable. “I won’t make things difficult for you. Find an opportunity to ask him. I have a feeling he’ll be more than happy to add me as a friend.” With that, she waved a dismissive hand. “You may go.” It wasn’t until I was outside her office that the rigid posture I’d been holding finally collapsed. 2 I was known for being the quintessential stuffy male secretary. Meticulous. Never smiling. For three years, I’d been a model of perfect, error-free diligence. But being a secretary was never my endgame. It was a stepping stone, a way to earn a recommendation from Charlotte herself. Last week, I learned the company was launching a new subsidiary. They needed a manager. As the head of the project, Charlotte had the final say on who to recommend. I’d submitted my application a few days ago, and the decision was still pending. When I got back to my desk, a few colleagues swarmed me. “Simon, has the transfer list been finalized?” “Not yet.” “It has to be you, right? Ms. Monroe trusts you so much. I can’t imagine it being anyone else.” “I agree. After the boss, you’re the busiest person in this entire company. You haven’t had a proper weekend in three years, have you?” I just smiled and shook my head. “It’s not a sure thing. The boss has her own plans.” But despite my words, a spark of hope flickered within me. The next day, Charlotte called me into her office. “Submit the recommendation for the new general manager to the board for approval and announcement.” I looked at the name on the file. Felix Vance. He’d started at the company at the same time as me. I was assigned to the executive office, while he’d remained in the sales department. I stood frozen, clutching the file. Charlotte gave me a curious look. “Is there something else?” “May I ask why I wasn’t chosen?” She seemed surprised by my directness. “There’s no reason. You’re not the right fit.” I pressed on. “In what way am I not the right fit?” A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. “The new company needs someone who understands sales, someone bold and innovative. You’re conservative, detail-oriented. You’re fine for administrative work, but you’re not suited for market development.” “But I…” “That’s enough. The matter is closed. My decision is final. Your job is to execute it.” Her face hardened, and she looked down at her documents, dismissing me. The conversation was over. Charlotte was a notoriously picky person with a thousand unspoken rules. She liked her water at exactly 113 degrees Fahrenheit, her coffee black, her jackets exclusively black. Even her laptop had to be positioned at a precise angle. For three years, I had carefully observed her every habit, terrified of breaking one of her rules. And all it had earned me was being called “too focused on details.” My heart went cold. Taking a deep breath, I decided to speak again. “Ms. Monroe, there’s one more thing to report.” “Speak.” “You asked me to speak with my brother. I’ve asked for his opinion.” Her expression softened slightly, and she looked up at me again. “What did he say?” “He said yes.” The corners of Charlotte’s mouth tilted upward. “Good. Send him my contact.” Then she reconsidered. “Actually, no. Send me his. I’ll add him myself.” 3 After the official announcement, I spent the afternoon fielding sympathetic comments from my colleagues. “Ms. Monroe must not want to let you go. You’re her right-hand man, after all.” “It’s a competency trap. She probably knows she’ll never find another secretary who suits her so well.” “Besides, for the new company, I bet Ms. Monroe wanted a woman in that role. It’s tough for guys in the corporate world.” I feigned indifference, saying it didn’t really matter to me. In reality, I was grinding my back teeth to dust. Damn you, Charlotte. This time, I’m going to make you wear out your kneecaps. Before leaving work, I created a new account. For the profile picture, I used a photo from my college days. Black motorcycle jacket, hair dyed silver-grey—a world away from the man in the gold-rimmed glasses with meticulously combed hair I was today. After making sure there were no other issues, I sent the contact card to Charlotte. A friend request came through almost immediately. I accepted. My first message: [Heard you were looking for me?] She replied instantly. [I was. Don’t you think you should take responsibility for assaulting someone? My knees still hurt.] [That must be because your kneeling posture was incorrect.] [You’re right. It’s all my fault.] Before I could reply, another message came through. I opened it. It was a photo. A selfie of a woman kneeling behind an office desk. Her face wasn’t visible, but the tailored business suit was unmistakably hers. [Is Your Majesty’s anger appeased now?] Hiss— She was really committing to this, wasn’t she? I sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively turning my phone away as if it were burning hot. But a strange, secret thrill coursed through me. I glanced toward Charlotte’s office. The door was shut tight, offering no clue as to what she was doing inside. I tapped my phone and changed her contact name to [Charlotte the Dog]. As I was packing up, a colleague came over. “Simon, we have a department dinner tonight. Who are you riding with?” I blinked, having completely forgotten about the year-end team dinner. It was at a bar. I had developed a recent and severe allergy to bars. “I have to work late,” I said immediately. “I won’t be able to make it.” As expected, a look of pity crossed her face. “The boss’s work pace is terrifying. You’re the only one in the whole company who can keep up.” I managed a weak smile and didn’t reply. I waited until the entire department had left before finally letting out a sigh of relief. My arms were still sore from all the slapping last night. I was looking forward to going home early and catching up on sleep. Just as I was shutting down my computer, I heard footsteps behind me. “You didn’t go to the dinner?” Even though the promotion issue had left a bitter taste in my mouth, I forced myself to sound cheerful. “No, I still have some work to finish up.” “Are you done now?” Unsure of her intentions, I played it safe. “Almost.” “I’ll wait for you. We can go together.” I froze. “Go? Go where?” “To the team dinner.” I was stunned. “You’re going too?” Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Is there a rule against it?” I plastered on my professional smile. “Of course not.” The car ride was silent. Charlotte sat beside me, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. My mind drifted to the photo she’d sent me, of her half-kneeling on her chair. I couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at her. She caught me. “Something on your mind?” “There seems to be a… a tear in your collar. Do you need a bandage?” I blurted out, pointing randomly at the area just above her collarbone. Instant regret. That was exactly where I’d bitten her. Her brow furrowed. She opened her phone, using the front-facing camera to inspect her neck. Her voice turned frosty. “No.” I didn't dare say another word. But a second later, my phone began to vibrate violently. Charlotte the Dog: [You bit my neck.] Charlotte the Dog: [And your brother saw it. How am I supposed to explain this?] I glanced at my screen, terrified Charlotte would see. I didn't dare reply. Charlotte tapped her fingers on her knee. Then started typing again. Charlotte the Dog: [Hello? Why aren’t you answering me?] Charlotte the Dog: [I’m not blaming you, you know~] Charlotte the Dog: [Have you found another dog behind my back?] Her typing speed was insane. I hadn't even had time to switch my phone to silent. In the quiet car, my phone was practically doing a breakdance. Charlotte shot me an irritated look. “Is your phone always that loud?” she drawled sarcastically. “Who could possibly have so much to say?” I quickly enabled Do Not Disturb mode and forced a laugh. “Sorry about that. My dog must have stepped on the keyboard.” 4 I was already annoyed. Arriving at the bar and seeing Felix there only made it worse. I stopped in my tracks, a familiar bitterness rising in my chest. Charlotte never attended department dinners. Could it be that she came specifically because she knew Felix would be here? I had cultivated a persona of a cool, professional, and frankly, boring secretary. After a brief greeting, I found a quiet corner and settled in. Everyone was used to my personality, so no one paid me much mind. Felix, however, lit up the moment he saw Charlotte, immediately drawing her into the center of the group. “Ms. Monroe, I hope you don’t mind me crashing your department’s party,” he said with a charming smile. Charlotte barely glanced at him. “Whether I mind or not, you’re already here.” Her bluntness left Felix speechless. Charlotte was known for her sharp tongue, a lesson he was clearly learning for the first time. He recovered quickly. “Ms. Monroe, let me raise a glass to you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to prove myself at the new company.” Charlotte’s eyes flickered toward me for a split second. She cleared her throat. “No need to thank me. It was a choice of the lesser of two evils. There just wasn’t anyone else suitable.” Felix froze again. I had been secretly enjoying his discomfort, but then I realized something. Wasn’t she insulting me too with that comment? I frowned and pulled out my phone. Switching to my alternate account, I tapped on [Charlotte the Dog]. [Slap yourself. Right now.] Beside me, Charlotte’s phone screen lit up. I could see her expression turn strange as she typed back a question mark. [Why?] Me: [Do I need a reason to give a command?] Me: [What, is such a small task too much for you?] Charlotte bit her lip. [It’s the company dinner. All my subordinates are here.] [Be a good girl. I’ll let you do whatever you want tonight, okay?] Me: [Not okay.] Me: [I can find someone else tonight.] The next second, I watched as Charlotte raised her hand and slapped herself across the face. The private room fell into an eerie silence for a few seconds. Felix was the first to react. “Ms. Monroe?” “A mosquito,” she said flatly. A mosquito. In a bar. In the middle of winter. Right. Felix seemed to buy it. After the slap, she looked down and sent me a message. Charlotte the Dog: [I just hit myself.] Me: [Oh.] Charlotte the Dog: [Are you satisfied?] I played dumb. [I wasn’t there. How would I know if you actually did it?] Charlotte the Dog: [Is that an invitation?] Charlotte the Dog: [My left cheek is still untouched. Want to try it out tonight?] Me: ? Help. This woman was certifiably insane. When the party broke up, the red mark on Charlotte’s face still hadn’t faded. As expected of the CEO. She didn’t even hold back on herself.
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