It was a late November morning, the kind where the cold seeped into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. Snow drifted lazily outside the tall windows of my penthouse, dusting the city in white, muffling the usual chaos into something quieter—more bearable. Sundays didn't matter in my profession. The OR didn't care about calendars. But today, for once, my schedule was clear.
I had woken before sunrise, out of habit more than necessity. Showered. Dressed in my usual dark layers—tailored slacks, black turtleneck beneath my white coat. My silver hair, still damp, fell messily over my brow as I sipped bitter coffee by the window. The heat of the cup didn't reach my fingers. I watched the frost bloom along the edges of the glass and thought about the silence. About how fragile it was.
The hospital was half-asleep when I arrived—just the way I liked it. Fewer people, fewer distractions. I walked the halls in silence, my footsteps echoing faintly off the sterile floor. I had notes to finalize, a few reports to skim through, but mostly, I wanted solitude.
So I retreated to my office—the one place I could think without interruption. I stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind me, and sank into the chair behind my desk. A few minutes passed in silence before the door creaked open again.
I sensed the change in the air immediately. A subtle tension built up, like the room itself braced for the presence of an intruder. I remained leaning against the desk, my posture casual, but my eyes were sharp, calculating. The figure that entered wasn't what I expected.
"What brings you to my office today?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended, irritation already bubbling under the surface. I had no time for interruptions.
She spun around, startled, her face flushed red from the cold, her cheeks and nose slightly pink. Her hair was long, dark, and slightly wavy—disheveled in a way that suggested she'd been in a rush or hadn't bothered to fix it. Her clothes were rumpled, barely warm enough for the weather, and she stood awkwardly near the door, shorter than most people I interacted with. Black eyes stared up at me—sharp, uncertain—such a stark contrast to my own pale blue. I couldn't help but notice the scratches and cuts on her legs—messy, careless injuries, as if she didn't even realize how exposed she'd left herself. A walking contradiction of recklessness and fragility.
"En... I thought this was an empty room?" she stammered.
"You thought wrong," I replied, my gaze sweeping over her disheveled state. Her appearance irritated me, as did her intrusion. I straightened up, moving away from the desk, studying her legs. The cuts were shallow, but they needed treatment. "And what in the world happened to you? You look like you've been in a battle."
She took a small step back, as if instinctively sensing the shift in my mood. I noticed her hesitation and took a deliberate step closer. Her reaction amused me, though I kept my expression cold.
"Don't move," I commanded, my voice firm. "Let me see those cuts."
Before she could protest, I reached for her wrist and pulled her closer. Her skin felt cold under my hand, and I could tell she wasn't used to situations like this. Her confusion was obvious, but I ignored it, focusing instead on her injuries. My eyes moved over the cuts with precision.
"Hm, these cuts need to be cleaned and disinfected," I muttered, my fingers brushing against her legs as I examined the wounds. Despite the roughness of my words, my touch was careful. Her injuries weren't severe, but they needed attention.
She blinked up at me, as if still processing what was happening. "Ehhhhhhh…"
Before she could pull away, I tightened my grip slightly and lifted her onto the desk. She didn't weigh much—tiny thing, really. I positioned myself between her legs, effectively trapping her in place. There will be no escaping until I am finished.
Her silence confused me, her eyes wide and full of uncertainty, almost as if she couldn't comprehend what was happening.
"Ehhhhhhh…"
She pulled her legs away, and I frowned. I wasn't about to let her get away with that.
"Don't be difficult," I said, my voice sharp, but with an edge of amusement. I pulled her by the hips and deposited her onto the desk once again, positioning myself between her legs to prevent any further escape. The surprise in her eyes only fueled my amusement.
"Hold still. I'm going to clean those cuts now."
I turned and retrieved a first-aid kit, my movements as practiced as always. People expected precision from me, the world's greatest surgeon—though I rarely deigned to offer my services. She didn't know how lucky she was.
"How did you manage to get these cuts, being so small?" I asked, more out of curiosity than anything. Her appearance was irritating, but I found myself wondering what she'd been doing to end up like this.
She stared at me, her wide eyes still filled with confusion. It was almost comical.
I paused for a moment, noticing the bewilderment in her expression. A slight smirk tugged at my lips. "What is it? Never been treated by a doctor before?"
I continued cleaning the wounds, my hands moving quickly and efficiently. The antiseptic stung slightly, but she didn't flinch—surprisingly tough for someone who looked so fragile.
"Ehhhhh… are you a ghost?" she asked suddenly, her voice small and uncertain.
I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the absurdity of her question. A ghost? Really? I finished applying the antiseptic and stood to my full height, towering over her once more.
"No, I'm not a ghost, you little fool," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I'm a doctor."
She glanced around the room, clearly still trying to make sense of where she was. "Ehh... someone said this room was supposed to be empty."
My eyes narrowed. Someone had told her this room was empty? Who? I reserved this space for privacy, and no one should have been sending random strangers here.
"And who told you that?" I asked, my voice growing colder. "This is my private office. No one should be trespassing here."
"Ehh, I don't know. I forgot," she replied, almost sheepishly.
I flicked her forehead lightly, unable to resist the small gesture of annoyance. "Forgetful little thing, aren't you? Next time, think before wandering into places you don't belong."
She winced, rubbing her forehead where I'd flicked it. Her reaction was amusing, though I kept my expression stern. I enjoyed watching her squirm.
"How much for treating my wounds?" she asked, surprising me with her sudden concern about payment. Really? Now she was worried about that?
A slow smirk spread across my face. "Oh, so now you're worried about payment?" I drawled, sarcasm heavy in my tone. "For treating such minor injuries, let's say… one million euros."
Her eyes widened in shock. "What—who charges that much?!"
I couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "You're dealing with the greatest surgeon in the world," I said, leaning closer. "My services don't come cheap."
I reached out and pinched her cheek, enjoying the way she flinched under my touch. "And you expect low charges after wandering into my office uninvited? How utterly foolish."
She pulled away, rubbing her cheek in irritation. "Ehh... how was I supposed to know? A nurse told me this room was empty."
A nurse? I stared at her incredulously. "A nurse? And you just followed her word without hesitation?" I took another step forward, closing the distance between us again. "You should learn to think before acting on the words of strangers."
I flicked her forehead again, harder this time.
"Ow! Stop touching me!" she scowled, waving her hands in protest.
I chuckled, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at me. Her defiance was amusing, but it was time she understood her place.
"Oh, feisty, aren't you?" I murmured, my voice dropping to a low whisper. "You haven't even thanked me for treating your little wounds."
She pushed my face away with her palms. "Alright, alright—thank you!"
I smirked, satisfied with her reluctant gratitude. I released her chin, stepping back. "There, was that so hard?" I teased. "A simple thank you is the least you could do after barging in here uninvited."
She slid off the desk, adjusting her clothes as she prepared to leave. I watched her, my eyes following her movements with idle interest.
"Leaving already?" I asked, unable to resist one final taunt. "Without even telling me your name? How rude."
"Hah, in your dreams!" she shot back, scurrying out of the office.
I watched her go, my eyes narrowing as the door closed behind her. A smirk tugged at my lips. Intriguing. She was a brat, no doubt about it, but she'd managed to catch my attention—something few people ever did.
"Brat," I muttered under my breath, leaning back against the desk. I hadn't expected her to be so… interesting.