The next morning, the city's rhythm was already strange to Seraphina. Streets buzzed with footsteps, shopkeepers shouted prices, and buses honked with a chaos that made her miss the quiet hum of the countryside.
She wrapped her yellow scarf tighter around her neck, clutching a small folder of documents against her chest. Resumes. Certificates. The little proof she had that she was worth hiring.
Lyra had begged her to take it slow, to rest a few days. But Seraphina couldn't. She had lived her whole life watching her mother sacrifice and work her hands raw. Depending on someone else felt like betraying that memory.
The first office she walked into—a modest publishing house—looked promising. She smoothed her scarf, lifted her chin, and approached the receptionist.
"Good morning, I'd like to apply for the assistant position," she said softly.
The woman gave her one look, her painted nails tapping on the counter. "Experience?"
"I worked at a local library for three years. Managed records, organized—"
"Next."
The word cut like glass. Seraphina blinked. "But—"
"We need city experience. Not… whatever that is." The receptionist's smirk was colder than the snow outside.
Heat rose to Seraphina's cheeks, but she forced herself to nod and leave gracefully.
By the time she reached the third office, then the fifth, her hope was fading. Rejection after rejection. Some places didn't even look at her resume. Others turned her away with fake smiles.
At noon, she sat on a bench outside a café, her fingers stiff, her throat dry. Around her, the city was alive—people laughing, rushing to meetings, holding bags of food and clothes she couldn't afford.
Her scarf fluttered in the wind, frayed threads catching on her lips. She tugged it back into place, blinking away tears that threatened to fall.
"No," she whispered to herself. "I didn't come this far to cry on a sidewalk."
Straightening her back, she pulled out her list of addresses. There were still places left to try.
Just as she stood, a flyer tumbled against her boot, carried by the wind. She bent to pick it up.
"Vale Corporation: Immediate Openings. Walk-in Interviews Today Only."
Her lips parted in disbelief. Vale Corporation. She had heard the name already that morning—it was whispered everywhere as the most powerful company in the city.
A chance. Maybe her only one.
Seraphina pressed the flyer between her fingers, her breath clouding in the cold. Then, with her scarf trailing in the wind, she turned down the busy street, her steps firm, her resolve sharper than ever.
-----
"Nothing," Seraphina sighed, sinking into the couch that night. "No one wanted me."
Lyra set down two steaming bowls of soup, her brow furrowed with worry. "Sera, you've been here barely a day. Don't push yourself too hard—"
"I can't waste time, Lyra," Seraphina cut in gently. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. "I won't live off you. I have to stand on my own feet."
Lyra reached across the table, squeezing her hand. "Then try again tomorrow. There's always tomorrow."
Tomorrow. The word felt thin, but it was all she had.
---
The next morning, Seraphina used part of her dwindling savings to buy a bus ticket. Vale Corporation was across the city, towering above the skyline like a fortress of glass and steel.
By the time she arrived, her breath caught. A sea of applicants swarmed the lobby, most of them women in sharp dresses and polished heels, whispering excitedly.
"They say he's the hottest CEO alive."
"Cold, but worth every second. Imagine working so close to him!"
"Maybe he'll fall for me if I play it right."
Seraphina blinked in confusion. She had no idea what they were talking about. For her, this wasn't about some untouchable man—this was survival.
Hours passed. Finally, her number was called. She walked into the interview room, shoulders straight, voice steady. And for the first time, the interviewer's expression softened.
"You're qualified. We'll be contacting you—"
The phone on the desk rang sharply. The man answered, his face paling as he listened. Then he stood abruptly.
"I'm sorry. The position is canceled. Please tell the others as well."
Seraphina froze. "C-canceled?"
"The CEO says he never approved this hiring. There is no opening."
Her heart sank. Every fragment of hope she had pieced together shattered. She left the room quietly, the rejection heavier than before.
In the elevator down, she whispered bitterly under her breath: "Could this day get any worse?"
The doors opened. She stepped into the lobby—and collided head-on with someone.
Hot liquid splashed across her crisp white shirt. She gasped, staring at the brown stain spreading across the fabric she had bought with the last of her money.
"Oh no—" the man before her said. He was tall, strikingly handsome, dressed in luxury from head to toe. His sharp watch gleamed as he held up his hands in apology. Then, unbelievably, he chuckled lightly.
"Sorry about that," he said with a nervous grin, slipping a thick wad of cash into her hands. "Buy yourself another."
Seraphina stood frozen as he walked away, laughter trailing after him.
She clenched the money in her fist. Are all rich people like this? she thought bitterly. First the man in the black car, now this. To them, everything could be fixed with money.
Pulling her yellow scarf from her neck, she tried to shield the stain as whispers rose around her. Stares burned into her skin. Humiliation prickled like fire.
She couldn't take it. She fled.
Down the stairs, through a service door, into the underground garage. The air was cooler there, the shadows wrapping her like a cloak. She slipped between a sleek black car and a sparkling red one, crouching low.
Her cracked phone shook in her hands as she struggled to open a shopping app, her fingers trembling too much to type.
So focused was she on her screen that she didn't hear the echoing footsteps rushing closer. Not until they stopped, just beyond the cars.
A silence fell.
Then a low, familiar voice cut through the air.
"...Yellow?"
Seraphina froze, every hair on her neck rising. Slowly, she turned—