Violet in Red

Chapter 7

I had seen the huge building many times in brochures, but compared to reality, it was "a bit bigger." I clutched my bag tightly and walked through the glass revolving door. The reception area of the round building was brightly lit, with lots of colorful LEDs.

"Excuse me." I hated myself for being so timid, but I was met with a smile from the young woman behind the desk.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"I'm here for a job interview." The woman looked surprised, but remained friendly.

"You must be here to see Mr. Minerva?" she asked with a smile and then explained how to get there: go right, then up to the 102nd floor of the building, and finally left to room 102.07—check in and wait.

I followed the young woman's instructions. And when I arrived upstairs, I was both surprised and amazed.

In the wide hallway in front of the very serious-looking narrow glass door, many people in smart suits sat on small chairs, staring at the very serious glass door. But how were you supposed to check in? I must have looked so desperate that someone nudged me from the side and pointed to a small box with the sign: "Take a ticket."

Okay, okay, I can handle that, right? I took a ticket and sat down. One by one, people were called in. Each one came out angry or frustrated. It can't be that bad, right? I screamed internally, already running my hands through my hair, and I hadn't even gone in for the interview I was actually here for.

"Number 47, please." The woman who had escorted the last candidate out of the glass door now called me in and would likely send me back out just as disappointed after the interview. I stood up and walked silently towards her.

She was about eye level with me, long legs, short black hair styled in a bob, and a sharp but tired look focused on me. She was definitely older, maybe around 60? She must have had a lot of experience with Minerva Industries. As I stood in the doorway of the very serious-looking glass door, I could take in the room's full splendor for the first time.
A windowed wall, a pinewood desk, a green plant, and a massive bookshelf filled with all sorts of knickknacks. I had imagined something a bit more elegant, but oh well, nothing I could do about it now.

And in the middle of this still life—Mr. Minerva, Junior? Holy—there wasn't an old man sitting there, but rather a fairly young, athletic, blond guy. Although "guy" didn't quite do him justice—what stood before me was... a man with the most masculine expression imaginable. I was speechless. Every word got stuck in my throat and wouldn't come out.

He briefly stood up and reached out his hand to me.

And I just stood there.

He cleared his throat and looked me in the eyes, which finally prompted me to move and return the gesture.

"Mr. Lind, it's a pleasure to welcome you here," his voice was deep. There was no better way to describe it—strong and smooth, with a touch of elegance. I nodded, and we sat down in unison—me on the felt chair from IKENDA, and him in his leather armchair/throne/huge chair.

"Well, Mr. Lind, let's go through this quickly..."
You could tell that he'd been doing these interviews for hours, but he didn't have to make it so obvious.

"Are you alright? You look really tired," suddenly came out of my mouth—and like an idiot, I said it loud and clear. What was that?! I sounded like I was mocking him.

Completely perplexed, he looked at me—definitely confused by my question.

"Miss Monika, could you leave us for a moment?" he asked, and with that, she left the room. That meant I was alone, with him, in a room. Is he going to kill me now for my rudeness?!

The door closed, and now we were alone.