That was the thought that had many times consoled Achlys — to be reborn meant having died, so dying wasn't an end, it was the possibility of a new beginning.
Her heels clicked in the pavement while she walked towards the CEO's office in the headquarters of PLEDIS, papers clutched in her bent arms.
Hair flowing behind, she didn't doubt to bow her head slightly in greeting to the other staff, her smile nowhere to be seen. Inside that building, Achlys became the strong, serious woman whose personality she adopted in a handful of moments.
The black heels came to a stop. She was in front of the translucent glass doors, and her eyes wandered across it. As always, several of SEVENTEEN's articles and comeback outlines continued to be hanged in a black cork board in the other side, slowly eating the space taken by the others, while the crystal glass chandelier oversaw the room. The white tall walls were bright under the glistening sun coming from the window taking one whole side of the room, contrasting with the baroque, dark carpet taking the floor. All together, the furniture created an elegant, old-styled place, with a wooden desk in the centre. Brown was mixed with liquid onyx burnt into the crevices of the desk, all stationary mirroring the rich colour, and sitting ordered in the table.
A man sat with her back to the door, his eyes lost in the bustling city floors below.
Achlys took a breath, and finally knocked.
The man threw a glance behind him, aimed straight at Achlys' eyes and gave a calculating smile, "Oh, come in. I have a proposition for you which you won't be able to decline."
Achlys smiled lightly at him and entered. The door closed behind her, and, the knob, turned. With her calm demeanour, she talked, "I hope I'm not stealing your time away from any important task."
"No," the man shook her head, all faked benignity glistening in his upturned eyes, "My most important task is actually to get you on board for the next project. It's you — you are the project."
Achlys swallowed, "May I know why is that?"
He nodded, and stood up, walking towards Achlys. Too blue and too dark clashed together as they looked at each other. The CEO raised his glasses and stood back, one feet behind the other. His words were but a mere whisper, a strange chant to manipulate Achlys into succumbing, "I want you to be the focus now."
She couldn't help but laugh, and suddenly a short stream of giggles escaped her mouth, "Why now?"
"And why not?," the man nodded, "You will do it— you must, for a fact."
Achlys sighed and stopped her laughing fit. Surely he couldn't be serious.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I won't."
"Isn't that what you wanted?" the man moved his head, hands flowing behind it, "Attention. You will get it, if that's what you want. I talk in the name of PLEDIS when I say you will cause us great economic losses if you leave."
Achlys shook her head, "Do you think that's my priority? Money matters, really?"
"No, and that's why the check is left clean."
Desire is all about vanishing, disappearing. Set the template for the future, but leave doubts and questions behind you. You will only feel real and pure desire when you must have enough with the leftovers. Dream of eating strawberries? You will only find cherries. Lust over someone? You will never meet them again. Desire is ultimately an hedonistic concept of that thing you will never have, and your mind will be plagued with it.
The piece of paper glared at her in the same manner she glared at it. It was painfully white, with the space designated for an amount having been left blank.
"Say a price, and it's yours."
Achlys pursed her lips and shook her head. "It's offensive that you think of me so poorly, sir."
The man sighed at her temperament, a hand moving to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Look, Achlys—" he started, voice tired, "It's truly amazing to realise how much you've grown, from the meek girl that was scouted back in China to a woman part of a million-seller group. All of us should be proud of the change you've experienced."
Pulling his glasses away from his face, leaving them neatly atop the table and rubbing his eyes in the process, he rested hands on the dark mahogany.
"Still," he enunciated, the word weighing down the situation further, "All of us have a price. It's just a matter of finding yours."
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