Jacob was used to getting what he wanted. Not because he earned it—but because people rarely said no. The office, the attention, the women—it all came naturally when your father was on the board and your suits cost more than most interns made in a month.

  But Liliane? Liliane was a problem he couldn’t solve.

  It started with the car.

  One evening, as Liliane exited the building, Jacob leaned against a sleek black coupe, the kind of luxury that screamed upper-class ego.

  “Liliane,” he called, confident.

  She turned, blinking at him. “Yes?”

  He gestured to the car with a charming smirk. “Need a ride?”

  Liliane glanced at the vehicle. “I don’t think so.”

  Jacob chuckled, opening the door. “Come on. No point in taking the train when I’ve got an open seat.”

  “You don’t know where I live.”

  “Then tell me.”

  She hesitated. “That seems unnecessary.”

  “It’s not. It’s chivalry.”

  “I don’t need a chauffeur.”

  “It’s not about need,” he said, voice silk-thin. “It’s about want.”

  “I don’t want one either.”

  Jacob’s fingers tightened on the door. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “...Positive?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed, hollow. “Alright. Maybe another time.”

  She nodded politely and walked off.

  Jacob slammed the car door harder than necessary.

  The next day, a designer gift bag appeared on Liliane’s desk.

  She stared at it.

  Mei, walking by, gasped. “Lily… don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Open it. Don’t open it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I already know who it’s from.”

  Just as Liliane reached for it, Jacob appeared.

  “Do you like it?”

  Liliane blinked. “What is it?”

  “Open it and see.”

  Instead, she picked up the bag and handed it back to him.

  Jacob blinked. “Wait, what?”

  “I don’t need anything.”

  “It’s a gift. You don’t have to ‘need’ it.”

  “I didn’t ask for it.”

  “It’s about appreciation.”

  “I appreciate the thought. You can keep it.”

  Jacob visibly twitched.

  “…Are you always like this?”

  Liliane considered it. “Like what?”

  Jacob forced a laugh. “You’re funny. Really funny.”

  “If you say so.”

  He walked away, jaw tight.

  At lunch, he tried flattery.

  “You’ve really got something special, you know that?”

  “What do I have?”

  “That look in your eyes. It’s captivating.”

  “I was looking at my food.”

  “I could watch you all day.”

  “That sounds uncomfortable.”

  Ian, from a nearby table, leaned toward Hollow and Felix. “I don’t even like the guy, but this is painful.”

  Felix nodded. “Almost feel bad.”

  Mei sipped her drink. “Lily, you beautiful oblivious murder machine.”

  Hollow, as usual, just ate.

  Then came the invitation.

  Jacob sat down at their usual table like he belonged there.

  “Hey, Liliane,” he began. “There’s a rooftop lounge I go to—VIP access, skyline view, live music. I’ve got a table reserved this weekend. Thought you might like to join me. Just us.”

  Mei and Felix exchanged a glance. Just one.

  Hollow’s fork stopped midair. He didn’t look up.

  Liliane didn’t ask what the lounge was. She didn’t smile.

  “Thank you for the invitation,” she said gently. “But I’m not interested.”

  Jacob blinked. “It’s just a nice place. You’d like it.”

  “I’m sure someone would. Maybe ask them.”

  Jacob’s grin strained. “You serious?”

  “I don’t think I’m the person you’re looking for.”

  Mei looked away, lips twitching. Felix exhaled slowly.

  Jacob stood. “I’ll save the reservation for someone who knows how to have fun.”

  Liliane nodded. “That sounds best.”

  He left, visibly cracking.

  That evening, Jacob raged.

  At a bar near the office, surrounded by fellow slacks and shallow smiles, he slammed his glass down.

  “You’ve still got nothing from her?” one of his guys asked.

  Jacob growled. “She’s just acting. Playing the long game.”

  One of the girls beside him laughed. “She’s plain as dry toast. What’s even the appeal?”

  Another added, “If she’s not biting, maybe she’s just not hungry.”

  Jacob glared.

  “She’s a challenge,” he hissed. “She’s not better. She’s just stupid.”

  “You sure she’s not just bored of you?” one of the other guys quipped.

  “I could take anyone else here,” Jacob snapped.

  The girl beside him leaned in. “Then take me.”

  Someone else giggled. “What, not good enough for you?”

  Jacob leaned back, teeth grinding. “She’ll come around.”

  By the end of the week, Jacob was seething.

  Nothing—nothing—worked.

  He had tried it all. The casual charm, the show of wealth, the “accidental” generosity, even the refined touch of exclusivity. And yet, Liliane remained unmoved—untouched. It was like throwing every tool in his arsenal against a wall made of fog. There was no sound, no impact. Just emptiness.

  No girl had ever been this immune to him. Not the shy ones, not the proud ones, not even the ones who “weren’t looking for anything.” Everyone reacted eventually. They blushed. They stammered. They gave him something.

  But Liliane?

  She wasn’t cold. That would imply she pushed him away.

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  She was nothing.

  A void. A quiet black hole that swallowed every word he threw at her and gave absolutely nothing back. No anger. No disgust. No curiosity. Not even acknowledgment of the chase.

  Just those damn polite answers.

  Those blank eyes.

  That graceful, infuriating indifference.

  And the worst part? Everyone saw it.

  Everyone.

  His coworkers.

  His “friends.”

  Even the lower staff were whispering.

  The giggles behind his back. The stares when he passed. The side conversations that suddenly stopped when he entered a room.

  He was Jacob—heir to a board seat, face of their branch’s upper floor. The guy everyone either wanted to impress or get close to. And now?

  He was a joke. A walking cautionary tale.

  He got rejected by the new girl. Publicly. Repeatedly.

  And then there was Hollow.

  The quiet one. The non-factor. The stray mutt in a tie who didn’t talk to anyone. The guy who somehow lived in Liliane’s orbit without even trying. Who never flirted, never chased, never seemed to care—and yet was always there.

  He wasn’t competition. He was background noise. Static.

  And somehow, he was winning.

  Jacob could feel the pressure building behind his temples. His reputation—his status—everything he had built on image and dominance was starting to fray.

  Liliane wasn’t just rejecting him.

  She was dismantling him without lifting a finger.

  And if she wouldn’t fall?

  He’d find a way to make her.

  In the cafeteria, things felt unusually light. That was never a good sign.

  At the usual table, Ian leaned back with a carton of milk and the smirk of someone watching a trainwreck in 4K.

  “So… we all seeing what’s happening to our boy Jacob, or is it just me?” he asked, sipping casually.

  Felix set down his tray with a sigh. “If by ‘what’s happening,’ you mean his ongoing ego death? Then yeah. It’s not exactly subtle.”

  Mei didn’t even bother hiding her grin. “He’s unraveling like cheap thread. It’s almost sad.”

  Ian tilted his head. “Almost.”

  “I mean,” Felix said, rubbing his forehead, “he is a scumbag, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone lose this hard. Repeatedly.”

  Ian chuckled. “It’s like watching a pro fighter get dismantled by a housecat. And the best part? Lily doesn’t even know she’s fighting.”

  Mei sighed theatrically. “A true natural. We are witnessing greatness, gentlemen.”

  Lily who was just trying to quietly finish her meal, replied, defending herself, “Stop exaggerating, its nothing like that…”

  They softly laughed at her innocent defense then Felix glanced to the side, eyes drifting to the quiet end of the table. Hollow was focused on his food like they were discussing weather patterns.

  “Hunter,” Felix called. “You got anything to say about all this?”

  Hollow didn’t look up. “No.”

  Ian smirked. “You sure? Because you existing is like a psychological curse on that guy.”

  Hollow blinked once.

  “That’s right,” Mei chimed in. “You’re like… a passive aura debuff. ‘Presence of the Emotionless Abyss.’ -20 Confidence per round.”

  Felix nodded. “And he’s losing all his rolls.”

  Hollow went back to chewing.

  Ian leaned in, a little more serious now. “I’m just saying... he’s flailing. You see it too, right? That kind of desperation never ends quietly.”

  Felix’s expression darkened slightly. “Yeah. He’s gonna snap. Question is whether it’ll be loud, or dangerous.”

  Mei scoffed. “He’s pathetic, not dangerous.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow. “That’s what makes it dangerous.”

  Felix glanced toward the far end of the cafeteria, where Jacob normally sat—with no one beside him anymore.

  “Just hope Lily keeps brushing it off like she has been.”

  Ian shrugged. “Or we step in before things get weird.”

  Mei glanced at Hollow again. “Or before someone else does.”

  Hollow didn’t speak.

  The office saw through him now.

  The whispers started small—innocuous curiosity passed in murmurs by the copy machine or between hushed clicks in the break room.

  “Did Jacob actually get rejected?”

  “By the new girl?”

  “Brutally.”

  “Maybe he finally met someone with standards.”

  Laughter came next. Quiet at first, but increasingly bold.

  Some women giggled knowingly.

  Others—the ones who’d once fallen for his charm—watched his slow fall with cruel satisfaction.

  A few offered sympathy, but that was worse.

  Pity was something Jacob Nash had never experienced.

  He felt it everywhere: in the way conversations died when he walked by. In the looks. The soft snickers. The way even junior staff now made eye contact with him—something they never dared before.

  Every corner of the office held echoes of it.

  Failure.

  And at the center of it all?

  Liliane Tsukihi.

  The woman who didn’t raise her voice. Who didn’t humiliate him with spectacle.

  She just refused him. Cleanly. Repeatedly. Without effort. Without interest.

  It hollowed him out.

  Until finally—

  It broke him.

  Liliane walked down one of the side corridors that led toward the file storage room. It was quiet. The type of silence only heard when the building was between shifts—low, dim, unassuming.

  She didn’t hear his steps at first.

  Just felt the shift in the air.

  Then—a hand wrapped around her wrist.

  Her body turned slightly on instinct.

  Jacob.

  No smile. No practiced charm.

  His face was pale and taut, his eyes sunken and sharp. Whatever mask he used to wear was gone.

  “I’m done playing games,” he said, voice clipped and low.

  Liliane’s brows knit. “Games?”

  “You know what I mean.” His grip didn’t tighten, but it lingered. “You’ve been stringing me along. Pretending you don’t know what this is.”

  “I haven’t pretended anything.”

  “You know who I am.” His voice cracked with disbelief, anger, denial. “Do you have any idea what kind of women throw themselves at me? What they’d do to have even half the attention I gave you?”

  Liliane stared at him. Unblinking. Unafraid.

  “Then maybe you should give it to them,” she said, voice even. “Instead of wasting it on me.”

  Jacob’s jaw flexed. His other hand clenched into a fist. “You think you’re above me?”

  “No.” Her tone never shifted. “I just don’t care about you.”

  Jacob flinched like she’d struck him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not interested.”

  Her voice wasn’t cold. It was quiet. Honest.

  The absence of hatred made it worse.

  Jacob stared, stunned. Empty. All the bluster, all the rehearsed lines and fake smiles—crumbled.

  And in that vacuum, something else surfaced.

  Something darker.

  “You’re gonna regret this,” he hissed. “You dumb little—”

  “I won’t ” Liliane cut in calmly.

  And for a moment, there was nothing left to say.

  Only Jacob’s breath, shaky and shallow. His fists trembling. His pride bleeding out of him, drop by drop.

  He turned sharply and stormed off without another word.

  Liliane stood there a moment longer, then sighed and shook her head.

  This wasn’t just rejection.

  It was delusion unraveling.

  At lunch, Liliane recounted the incident with her usual brevity.

  “He grabbed you?” Ian whistled low, eyebrows raised.

  She nodded. “It wasn’t dramatic. He let go right after.”

  Mei covered her mouth, eyes wide in exaggerated shock. “Lily… you emotionally executed a man.”

  “I just told the truth,” Liliane said flatly.

  Felix rubbed his temples, exhaling hard. “That guy’s worse than I thought.”

  Mei grinned. “Come on, say it.”

  Felix groaned. “You were right, Mei.” He leaned back. “And I doubt he’s coming back from that.”

  “Or…” Ian interjected, his tone unusually serious, “he’s not done. Guys like that don’t lose quietly.”

  Mei rolled her eyes. “What’s he gonna do—challenge her to a duel?”

  Ian just shrugged, voice calm. “Just saying. Watch your backs.”

  Hollow didn’t speak. But his gaze flicked to the far end of the cafeteria—Jacob’s usual seat.

  At first, no one noticed Jacob’s absence.

  He hadn’t been seen since the hallway incident with Liliane, but in the modern office, people vanished all the time—sick days, unannounced vacations, executive excuses. A missed morning became a quiet afternoon. A quiet afternoon became two days.

  It wasn’t until the third day that people began to murmur.

  “Did he quit?”

  “Was it because of her?”

  “Can you even do that? Get rejected so hard you disappear?”

  The jokes came quickly—some cruel, some gleeful, some whispered behind cupped hands. People laughed in private messages and stifled grins at their desks. A few even mimicked Jacob’s voice with mock-flirt lines that ended in imaginary rejection.

  By the end of the week, the storm that had loomed over the office for days seemed to dissipate.

  Not explode.

  Just… dissolve.

  People began to forget.

  Meetings returned to normal. The elevator chatter turned to mundane things—lunch spots, project deadlines, the new vending machine restock. Jacob’s name faded into the background like someone who’d transferred out of the company without notice.

  Even among the group, the tension had lifted.

  At lunch, Ian leaned back with a rare sigh of peace. “Feels like the air finally cleared.”

  Felix nodded. “Honestly, yeah. I didn’t realize how much space that guy was taking up just by being around.”

  Mei stretched with a satisfied hum. “The villain has been vanquished. Peace returns to the realm.”

  Liliane, sipping from her can of milk tea, tilted her head slightly. “It really does feel better without him here.”

  “See?” Mei grinned. “Freedom. Serenity. No more pop-up dates or backhanded gifts or suspicious perfume trails.”

  Felix let out a small chuckle. “Maybe he finally got the message.”

  “I hope so,” Liliane said, her voice lighter than usual. “It was exhausting, having to constantly deal with him.”

  Hollow didn’t speak. But his eyes shifted toward her, a small glance that lingered longer than usual.

  He hadn’t realized just how much she’d been bothered. She’d always handled it so calmly—so effortlessly—that he assumed it hadn’t affected her at all. But now, hearing the weariness in her voice, the quiet relief...

  He remembered something Ian had said not long ago.

  “Since people are talking, you might wanna take care of her.”

  At the time, Hollow didn’t give it much thought. Liliane seemed capable. She always did.

  But now… he wondered if he’d missed something.

  If there was something he was supposed to do.

  The thought hung in his mind for a beat—then the conversation shifted, and someone called his name. He turned his head, letting it pass, the thread fraying and fading from conscious thought.

  The group laughed more freely that day. The tension around the table had melted. Jacob was old news. A weird memory.

  Even the office had started moving on. The gossip had quieted. No more whispered rumors. No more glances at the elevators. Just another week.

  Things were normal again.

  Too normal.

  The kind of quiet that only exists right before the storm.

  No one talked about Jacob anymore.

  No one wondered where he’d gone.

  Maybe for the worse.