Upon stepping through the main entrance of the St. Aldrich Medical Center, Miguel was greeted by the smell of disinfectant, mixed with an unusual, faint scent of cold coffee forgotten on a desk.
The reception area was bathed in a yellowish artificial light, betraying the age of the neon fixtures.
The cream-colored walls, impeccably maintained, seemed to absorb the light.
Miguel turned his head to the right and spotted a polished wooden counter serving as a guard station. Behind it, a man of about forty, with a long white beard on his face, was slumped in his chair, head tilted back, mouth slightly open.
His slow breathing betrayed a deep sleep. Miguel walked up to the counter and tapped on it twice. The man didn't react—his slumber was even deeper than Miguel had imagined.
Miguel was about to try again when he heard footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw a woman of about thirty, around 1.70 meters tall, elegantly dressed in work attire that accentuated her seductive curves and revealed a hint of cleavage. Her long black hair fell down her back, and coupled with her green eyes, she exuded a seductive yet commanding aura.
"JOHNSON! JOHNSON!" she shouted in a loud, authoritative voice that startled the guard, nearly making him fall out of his chair.
She strode forward, passing by Miguel without acknowledging him, then slammed her fist on the counter, spilling part of the black coffee.
With eyes still red from sleep, Johnson's gaze fell on■■■■, and his face paled with worry.
"Is… is there a problem, Mrs. Jessica?" he asked, a tinge of nervousness in his voice.
Jessica looked at Johnson with utter disgust, as though she'd spotted a rat scurrying by.
Her tone was dripping with contempt:
"You've been sleeping on the job non-stop these past few days. Do you think this job was just given to you? We only ask you to hold a damn gun and watch a door, and here you are snoring like a pig."
Her words were so harsh that Johnson could only lower his head.
"Well, I… but I—"
"There's no but. Keep your pathetic excuses to yourself," she cut him off sharply, giving him no chance to defend himself.
Miguel watched the exchange with blank eyes—not because he didn't care, but because he was trying to understand the situation.
Because these two people standing here… were married.
Yes, you read that right—married. And it was hard to imagine how a couple could have such poor chemistry at work.
As a psychology student, Miguel had a habit of observing people and their behavior to better understand them.
Thanks to that, he'd developed a sharp ability to read the kind of people he was dealing with in an instant.
And right now, Miguel understood that their situation was far more complex than a simple marital spat.
Shaking his head, deciding it was none of his business, he cautiously approached Jessica and placed his hand on her shoulder, making her turn her head and finally notice his presence.
"I think you should maybe let him explain, Mrs. Jessica. He might have a reason for this," Miguel suggested.
The expression on Jessica's face, until now marked by anger, changed drastically. Her demeanor made a complete 180, and the atmosphere around her shifted entirely. A wide smile now adorned her face.
"Miguel, my sweet, you know as well as I do that everyone shares a bit of responsibility here." She then turned to Johnson, still smiling—but now the smile seemed forced. "But when a lazy man neglects his duties, he has to be told so, because there are others who would gladly be in his place."
Johnson shivered at the cold remark from his wife. He now looked like he wished he could shrink into a shell and disappear entirely.
Miguel sighed, realizing the situation wouldn't calm down anytime soon. He decided to retreat from a battle that wasn't his.
"May I just take the keys to my locker?" Miguel asked, eager to leave as quickly as possible.
"Of course, sweetie," Jessica replied, shooting Johnson a glacial look that almost knocked him off his chair again.
He quickly stood, revealing his height of over 1.82 meters, and went to grab one of the keys hanging on the wall. Walking over to Miguel, he handed them over with trembling hands.
Miguel took Johnson's shaking hands into his own. Despite his cold, intense eyes, Miguel's hands radiated a soothing warmth, calming Johnson's tremors and making him blush.
Taking the keys from Johnson, Miguel walked away, leaving the man red with embarrassment.
"Johnson, what the hell was that?" Jessica asked, noticing the redness on her husband's face.
Johnson snapped out of his daze at the sound of her voice, but he was no longer panicked. It was as if his mind had undergone a quick therapy session, and now he felt ready to weather storms.
"It was nothing," he said calmly. "Let's just say I… got a little lost in that kid."
That last comment turned Jessica's face to one of disgust. She stepped closer to Johnson and grabbed him by the collar.
"Listen to me, you filthy pig—if you have this damn job, it's thanks to me and because I was tired of seeing you laze around doing nothing. So don't you dare screw it up just because there's a good-looking guy around," she snapped.
She let go of his collar and walked away from the counter, disappearing down the hall, leaving Johnson alone with his thoughts.
---
Miguel stood in front of his locker, placing his belongings inside. He grabbed his lab coat and slipped it on.
When he turned to leave, he spotted a doctor of about twenty, with black hair and eyes, around 1.75 meters tall, standing in the doorway with a satisfied look on his face.
"Hey, Clayton, I see you took those beauty products I recommended—you're glowing," he said, stepping toward Miguel, who frowned slightly at the comment.
He stopped in front of Miguel, his expression openly showing contempt, then leaned forward.
"You know, at your 1.55 meters, I think you're the only one here who has to look up at everyone to talk to them."
"Mr. Issac—"
"Don't interrupt me, you little shit," Issac cut him off before Miguel could finish.
"Here, I'm your superior, so you shut up when I talk to you."
Miguel wasn't even irritated by Issac's behavior anymore—he was used to being treated like this by him.
Unlike Miguel, who was only an intern, Issac was one of the center's certified doctors, hired after completing his own internship, which technically made him Miguel's superior despite being the same age.
At the start of his internship, Miguel had expected help from him—they were the same age, both good with patients.
That had been a monumental mistake. From day one, Issac had been more than unpleasant.
In addition to mocking Miguel's feminine appearance, he also taunted him about his height—not that Miguel cared much, since he'd always been teased for it.
"Always with that cold face… hasn't anyone told you to smile a little more?"
"Yes, my father tells me that often," Miguel replied, his tone perfectly flat.
"Really? I bet he also told you he must be a perfect buyer, considering how he—"
Crack.
A dull sound echoed through the room before Issac could finish. Suddenly, he found himself on the floor.
Pain exploded in his face, and he felt warm liquid dripping—blood. Only after a moment did he realize his nose had been broken.
"Mr. Issac…" A cold voice reached him, and when he looked up, he saw Miguel crouched right in front of him. His face was utterly blank, completely unreadable—nothing to tell if he was irritated or not.
"I couldn't care less if you mock my face or my height. In fact, I couldn't care less about anything that happens to me in this world—because no one has ever cared…" He paused, then continued, his voice now carrying a hint of menace, while his eyes seemed to have turned into two black voids.
"But if my father's name ever comes out of your mouth again, I will make sure to break every remaining part of your body—and I'll make sure you feel every single second of it."
Issac's face turned pale. He trembled, realizing Miguel might very well do it.
"Am I clear?" Miguel asked, leaning in so close Issac could feel his icy breath.
Issac only nodded, too frightened to speak.
Miguel rose slowly, his cold gaze still fixed on Issac, then walked past him without looking back.
Issac remained on the floor, his hand on his broken nose, blood still dripping.
"He's insane… he's insane…"