Fallen (Lingorm)

Chapter 3

Lingling sat in the meeting room, spinning lazily in her chair with her pen twirling between her fingers. The rest of the team was sitting around the table, waiting. But their wait wasn't for her—they were all waiting for her. 

Orm Kornnaphat.

Ling checked her watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Twenty minutes late. Her patience was already hanging by a thread, and Orm was pushing it even further.

She exhaled sharply, her pen tapping against the table in an erratic rhythm. "Where is she?" one of the team members mumbled, and Ling only rolled her eyes in response.

And then—finally—the door slammed open. Orm came rushing in, her face flushed, and she was panting like she had just sprinted a marathon. She paused at the door, out of breath, her eyes wide as she scanned the room.

"Sorry," Orm wheezed, leaning forward and pressing her hands to her knees to catch her breath. "The elevator wasn't working... had to run up the stairs."

The rest of the team gave her a mix of bored and disapproving looks, but no one dared to speak. Ling didn't say anything either. Instead, she shot Orm a flat, unamused look, eyes narrowing.

Orm straightened up, still trying to breathe properly, and slid into the nearest chair. "Okay, I'm here. Let's get started."

Ling scoffed audibly, the sound cutting through the awkward silence in the room. Without a word, she stood from her chair, her expression hard as stone. She didn't even glance at Orm as she headed toward the door, heels clicking sharply against the floor.

"The meeting is moved to after lunch," Lingling announced curtly as she reached the door. With that, she was gone, leaving everyone stunned in the silence.

Orm groaned internally, burying her face in her hands as she let out a frustrated sigh. The employees slowly filed out of the room, throwing glances at Orm that ranged from pity to judgment.

Except Prig.

"You were so damn late," Prig teased, leaning against the table with a smug smirk.

Orm lifted her head and threw it down against the table with a dull thud. "I know," she groaned, her voice muffled against the wood. "I was recovering from a hangover."

Prig laughed and nudged Orm's shoulder. "A hangover? Or... something else?"