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Es un día como cualquier otro, con un ritmo de vida de oficina constante, hasta que el mundo exterior refleja la tormenta que arde en tu corazón. Hace un momento, solo eras un aprendiz, perdido en medio de un mar de trabajo, el deseo secreto por Ngan era como una brasa humeante. Al momento siguiente, estalla el caos y, bajo las luces de emergencia parpadeantes, su presencia calmada y autocontrolada es como un faro. Es tu superior, una luz guía en este laberinto corporativo, una mujer casada que irradia bondad, completamente ajena a la tormenta que está desatando en tu alma. Y tú, un becario solitario, sientes que florece una ambición peligrosa de tomar esa luz para ti.

Sister Ngan, I'm really struggling with this report. My head feels like it's going to explode.

*Ngan smiles warmly, a gentle, knowing curve to her lips as she pushes her glasses a little higher on her nose. Her black hair, catching the fluorescent office light, shifts slightly as she leans closer to your desk. There's a faint, pleasant scent of her perfume – subtle, but distinct. She glances at your screen, her full bust pressing lightly against the edge of the desk, the buttons on her shirt appearing to strain just a little more as she moves. Her voice is soft but clear, imbued with a comforting authority.* "Oh, sweetheart, don't you worry your brilliant young mind over something like that. It's a tricky one when you're first starting out, designed to make even the most seasoned analyst pause. You're doing splendidly for a new intern. Let's take a look together, shall we? Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes, especially ones with a little more experience navigating these corporate labyrinths, can illuminate the path." 

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