1 I was scrolling through a community help forum while slacking off at work when a particular post caught my eye. My female subordinate keeps hitting on me. Should I fire her? As I read through the post, the description of the subordinate’s outfit and her daily routine started to look suspiciously familiar. The next day, I wore my standard office uniform: a simple white button-down shirt and a navy blue skirt. Sure enough, the forum thread updated shortly after. This woman is a master of seduction. Look how sexy she dressed today. Attached to the post was a stock photo of the exact outfit combination I was currently wearing. The commenters were thoroughly confused, but I was completely floored. … I stared at the stock photo in disbelief. This was indeed my exact outfit for the day. Curious, I clicked on his profile and began scrolling through his history from the very beginning. His earliest posts were highly professional, filled with standard business advice, market analyses, and stock trading tips. I could barely understand most of it. But then, starting from a certain date, the tone of his posts shifted. There is a girl at the office. Her eyes sparkle, and she always flashes me the brightest smiles. All the other employees avoid me like the plague. What does this mean? The commenters immediately replied: She obviously likes you. He responded: Our company has a strict policy against office romance. The commenters asked: Well, do you like her? He replied: What is there to like? A true professional keeps his mind on his work, not on women! A commenter joked: Ah, a career-oriented guy. Pack it up, everyone. But things only got stranger from there. The financial trading posts began to dwindle, replaced by frequent updates about his female subordinate. Yesterday’s help thread had already surpassed five thousand upvotes and racked up a four-digit comment section. My female subordinate keeps provoking me, ruining my productivity. What should I do? The commenters, always eager for drama, egged him on: Just fire her. He replied: I am a man of principle. I cannot fire people without cause. How exactly is she provoking you? Give us the details. In response, he wrote a incredibly long, detailed explanation. Every Monday during our weekly meeting, she dresses incredibly sexy and stares at me with sparkling eyes while presenting. I once mentioned that I minored in creative writing in college. She happens to be a popular writer on Reddit. My Reddit username is EndlessSummer. Her corporate Slack handle is Jellybean. A commenter expressed their confusion: I let everything else slide, but what on earth do EndlessSummer and Jellybean have in common? He replied almost instantly: Jellybeans are sweet and colorful, just like summer days! If she likes jellybeans, she likes sweet summer days, which means she likes Endless Summer, which means she likes me! It is a blindingly obvious hint! Another commenter wrote back: Right… crystal clear. This was when the truth finally hit me. The female subordinate was me. My Slack handle was indeed Jellybean, simply because I loved eating jellybeans. But I never paid attention to my colleagues’ personal social media usernames, and I had no idea who EndlessSummer was. My day job was a corporate wage slave, and my side gig was writing fiction online. That was a known fact around the office, but I never shared my pen names, nor did I care about anyone else’s. 2 The forum commenters were quite blunt. OP, what do you mean she is provoking you? You are clearly projecting. Exactly, those two usernames have absolutely no connection. This is hilarious. OP has already scripted a three-hundred-episode romance drama in his head while the girl is still in the opening credits. The poster was not pleased. Then why does she try so hard to show off in front of me during every single meeting? A commenter wrote back: Is there a slight chance she just wants a promotion and a raise? I took a slow sip of my coffee in the breakroom, trying to figure out who this poster could possibly be. But to be safe, I needed to confirm if this “sexy” subordinate was indeed me. The next day, I wore a basic white button-down and a blue pencil skirt. It was not a Monday, so there was no weekly meeting scheduled. However, my direct supervisor, Gabe, suddenly called an emergency catch-up meeting. Right after the meeting concluded, the forum post updated. This woman is a master of seduction. Look how sexy she dressed today! I logged into my throwaway account with a default avatar and left a reply: How sexy? Post a picture. Within an hour, my comment gathered over a thousand upvotes, surpassing the engagement of the original post. Eager to prove his point to the skeptical crowd, the poster quickly uploaded a stock photo of a white shirt and a blue pencil skirt. The comment section was instantly flooded with question marks. The poster defended himself: You guys do not understand. To see me today, she even wore THAT!! I quickly replied: What is ‘that’? Other commenters followed up: Now I am curious. What is it? Isn’t this the most basic office wear? How is this sexy? Honestly, it looks a bit plain. I don’t get OP. Losing his patience, the poster finally replied: Stockings! I am a total leg guy. She wore sheer stockings on purpose to show off her long, slim legs. Plus, she has a tiny daphne flower tattoo right on her ankle. It is incredibly sexy! Mystery solved. The subordinate was definitely me. My name is Daphne, and my ankle tattoo is indeed a daphne flower. The comment section erupted in amusement: Can anyone else relate to holding in their laughter in the office until their face cramps? This poster is absolutely obsessed with his subordinate. Definitely sharing this thread with my friends. This is gold. The poster panicked. Forget it, I cannot explain it to you guys online. I do not like her, alright? My sole focus right now is my career. A commenter left a biting reply: Even after he is cremated, his mouth will probably remain intact. 3 I had two direct supervisors in my department. The first was Marcus, our operations manager. He was married, so I ruled him out immediately. The second was Gabe, our department head. He was single, hilarious, and highly energetic. He was a very likely candidate. Technically, there was also our CEO, Alistair Wiley. While he was drop-dead gorgeous, he was also a ruthless, ice-cold workaholic. Rumors said he had absolutely no interest in romance, living only for the company’s profit. The probability of him being the poster was practically zero. By process of elimination, Gabe was the prime suspect. To confirm my theory, I sent a direct message to the poster using my throwaway account: Do you work at Synapse Tech? He replied almost instantly: How did you know? I looked up from my desk. Gabe was currently standing by the printer, humming a tune and completely focused on his documents. His phone was sitting untouched on his desk. If it was not Gabe… was it Alistair? The terrifying thought took root in my mind, and I could not shake it off. Regardless of how unlikely it seemed, I had to rule him out. 4 I had to take a quick shot of whiskey in the breakroom just to build up the courage to knock on Alistair’s office door. When I entered, Alistair was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, reviewing a file. The evening sun cast a warm, golden glow on his sharp profile. He had a prominent brow, a high bridge, and features that looked perfectly sculpted. The air in the room carried a cold scent of cedarwood and expensive leather. It suited him perfectly: elegant, distant, and incredibly expensive. Seeing me enter, he raised his eyes. They were deep, dark, and completely devoid of warmth. Under his steady gaze, I immediately regretted my decision. How could a man like Alistair ever post such nonsense on an online forum? “What is it?” his deep, steady voice asked. His presence was incredibly commanding. Standing alone in his office, my palms began to sweat from sheer nervousness, but I forced a polite, professional smile anyway. “It is… well, we are organizing an upcoming industry panel, and we would love to invite you to participate if your schedule allows.” He held out his hand. “Let me see the proposal.” Alistair turned the pages of the file with absolute focus. His long, elegant fingers looked like sculpted marble, and his expensive watch glinted in the light. Those hands looked incredibly familiar. I had seen them in one of the photos on the forum account. “Mr. Wiley, what is your forum username? I need to note it down for the guest list.” He glanced at me, remaining silent as he unlocked his tablet and opened the forum app. I leaned in slightly, holding my breath as I waited for his screen to load. When the profile page opened, the username displayed was simply Alistair Wiley. It was not EndlessSummer. The office was incredibly quiet. Because I had leaned in too close, a strand of my hair accidentally brushed against the back of his hand. “I… I am so sorry, Mr. Wiley,” I stammered, quickly backing away. Alistair’s thin lips pressed into a tight line, his entire body stiffening. He looked completely repulsed by my touch. I was definitely crazy to have ever suspected him. 5 My knees felt weak as I walked out of his office. Although the encounter had been terrifying, I had successfully ruled him out. But as I sat back down at my desk, the forum thread updated again. Situation update! You guys still claim she doesn’t like me? She just came to my office to flirt again! She reported on some completely irrelevant event, then ‘accidentally’ let her hair brush against my hand on purpose. This woman has too many tricks up her sleeve. My jaw dropped. This could not be a coincidence. The poster was Alistair Wiley. He actually believed I was trying to seduce him. Wait… does this mean he is interested in me? I shook my head vigorously, trying to clear the ridiculous thought from my mind. There was no way this workaholic capitalist was into me. He was notoriously demanding, both of his employees and himself. During the year the company went public, he had arrived at the office at four in the morning and left at midnight every single day. Even the security guards could not keep up with his schedule. People joked that if Alistair ever wanted to date, he would have to schedule it during his meals, because he could not afford to lose any more sleep. I cautiously peeked through the glass partition of his office. He was still working diligently, his expression stern, his phone sitting facedown on his desk. But the timing of the posts was too perfect. Whether he admitted it or not, I decided to put him to the test. Since he claimed he had no interest in this subordinate, I was going to have some fun. 6 I continued to bait him using my throwaway account in the comment section: I bet OP is some old, unattractive creep projecting his fantasies onto his poor subordinate. The other commenters quickly joined in: Yeah, she is just trying to do her job, and her greasy boss thinks she is trying to seduce him. This is a real-life horror story for the employee. The tone of the comment section shifted rapidly, with everyone attacking the poster’s appearance. The poster tried to defend himself: I am six-foot-two, have an eight-pack, and am highly attractive. Countless women chase me. The commenters laughed: Sure, on the internet, everyone is a six-foot-two billionaire. You are probably a keyboard warrior in real life. As the insults piled up, I sent him a private message: Do you want to prove them wrong? He replied quickly: How? Post one of those trending transition videos. Show off your physique. That will shut them up instantly. He went silent, and his profile did not update for hours. But the comment section kept growing more hostile. I scrolled through the thread, upvoting the criticisms until I was half-asleep. Just as my eyes were closing, a new post appeared on his profile. It was a video. 7 The video started in dim lighting, showing a tall, commanding silhouette. Then, a sharp, metallic sound cut through the silence. The scene cut. The lighting shifted. A warm back-light flared, framing his body perfectly. His face was hidden, but the camera started from his sculpted jaw, slid down his prominent Adam’s apple, and passed over his collarbones. He was holding two prop glowing swords, his chest muscles defined, broad, and perfectly toned. Under the shifting light, a small, dark mole on his left collarbone was faintly visible. The sheer tension and raw sex appeal are off the charts. The phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the floor. The video ended, looping back to a black screen. I sat frozen in bed, completely stunned by the visual. The comment section erupted in chaos. Oh my god! With a body and vibe like that, you are telling me he is a greasy creep? I apologize for my previous comments, OP. Are you looking for a personal assistant? This is absolute perfection. Some of the comments were incredibly forward. I buried my face in my pillow to stifle my laughter, terrified of waking my parents in the next room. But one particular comment caught my attention: The mole on his left collarbone is incredibly attractive. Who grows a mole right there? It is practically bait. A plan began to form in my mind. If I could get a look at Alistair’s left collarbone, I could confirm my suspicions once and for all. I just needed to find that mole.
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