Click
Clack
Click
The beautiful, elegant and graceful CEO of Studio 12, walked graciously towards her office. Despite her everlasting calm, underneath, she was in panic mode.
Ruoxi Shen entered her office and closed the door with a soft click, letting out a long, controlled sigh.
Today was her last chance.
After repeated failures to secure adaptation deals with multiple parties, her father—the formidable founder of Studio 12—had finally issued an ultimatum: succeed today, or her younger brother would inherit the role of CEO.
Everything—her reputation, her career, even her sense of self-worth—hinged on this one deal.
Yet, the more she researched the author, Nernakai, the clearer it became: her odds were slim. The man.. ahem, boy, was notorious for being unpredictable, guarded, and fiercely independent.
His latest work, the new bestselling romance novel "Please Don't Do This, Mrs. CEO", was already causing waves in the literary world.
Whoever landed the adaptation rights would have a goldmine on their hands. Whoever failed would simply be forgotten.
She straightened her blazer, her calm façade masking the rapid calculations running through her mind. Gathering the important files from her desk, she tucked them under her arm and strode toward the boardroom, each step measured, precise, and determined.
She opened the door, of course, the author and his company would arrive in a few minutes. She sat at the opposite end.
Two years ago when she had gotten this job, she didn't expect it to go like this. She was confident, and sure she could bring good fortune and more money to the studio. Yet, most, if not all ended in failure.
She thought about her father's words when she first started: "Do what you need to. Cheat, lie, improvise. It doesn't matter, so long you secure that contract, everything else is bull."
"Sigh. I'm sorry father. But the author I'm dealing with is impossible. " She said to herself.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Ruoxi's assistant, Mayra gestured into the room and in entered three men.
Immediately, Ruoxi stood, smoothing her blazer as her heart rate ticked up.
Mayra, her assistant, stepped forward, straightening her own posture. "Ms. Ruoxi, they've arrived."
Three men entered in quiet confidence.
"This is… Nernakai," Mayra began, her voice neutral but careful. "He's the author of Please Don't Do This, Mrs. CEO. And with him, his editor, Mr. Lian, and his lawyer, Mr. Chen."
Ruoxi's eyes flicked to the young author first. He was.. far too young. According to her research, he was just turning twenty. A boy by most measures, yet already a force in the literary world. Nernakai's posture was calm, almost casual, but his sharp gaze hinted at intelligence beyond his years.
The editor and lawyer followed behind him, professional and precise. The weight of their presence made the room feel immediately more formal, the stakes higher.
Mayra stepped back, giving a small nod to Ruoxi. "I'll leave you to it," she said, closing the door softly behind her.
Nernakai gave a small nod, calm but deliberate. "Good afternoon, Ms. Shen." he said, his voice steady, polite. "Thank you for inviting me."
Ruoxi gestured toward the seats. One by one, they all sat down around the polished boardroom table, the air thick with unspoken tension. "My pleasure. Please."
As everyone settled into their seats, Ruoxi opened her folder, placing it carefully in front of her. The lawyer, Mr. Chen, adjusted his glasses and began reading aloud.
"Per the author's terms, Studio 12 is to provide creative oversight, a clear production schedule, and adherence to contractual milestones. Any deviation…" His voice was crisp, legal, and impersonal.
Ruoxi nodded, keeping her expression smooth. "Understood," she said. "Our team has a proven track record in adapting bestsellers into top-performing media. The benefits for your team include accelerated production timelines, dedicated marketing campaigns, and global distribution through our established channels."
Mr. Chen continued, enumerating clauses about royalties, intellectual property rights, and legal obligations. Ruoxi responded point by point, highlighting incentives, creative flexibility, and added security measures—careful to frame each detail as both fair and beneficial to Nernakai.
Throughout it all, Nernakai remained remarkably still. Neutral face. Hands folded lightly on the table, eyes attentive but unreadable. He didn't interject, didn't fidget.
The editor, Mr. Lian, occasionally scribbled notes, but even he seemed hesitant to break Nernakai's calm focus. It was as if the young author existed in his own controlled space, aloof.
Ruoxi couldn't help but feel a subtle tension settle over her, it was, finally after several minutes she decided to interrupt the author's thoughts, "So, what do you think Mr. Ardent?" She said, using his real surname.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Look, Mrs. Shen," Nernakai began, his voice calm but firm. "WebStories, gave me two options: aNiKaLiVe Studio or Studio 12."
Ruoxi leaned forward slightly, attentive but wary.
"Respectfully," he continued, "Studio 12 has a reputation for… twisting the final product. Even slight deviations from the source material are common. On the other hand, aNiKaLiVe Studio—while their animations are, frankly, subpar—stays true to the story." He paused, meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry, but I made my decision some time ago."
Ruoxi's mind raced. She knew this was the moment that could define her career. Everything hinged on this.
He rose slowly, deliberately, and continued. "Besides," he added, almost conversationally, as if the words had to spill, "this is a romance webnovel. Your studio… it's more action-oriented. You wouldn't… understand it. I need someone who does."
Ruoxi felt her chest tighten. Fear, thoughts, explanations—all collided in her mind. The deal, the contract, her career… it was over. Or so it seemed.
And then, almost recklessly, an idea struck. "I… can understand," she said, voice steady though her heart raced.
He paused mid-step, brow slightly raised, clearly taken aback. "You… can?" His calm, neutral façade wavered for the first time—a flicker of curiosity.
"Just like Alva. From your book, I too have a secret relationship here." She said.
Of course, it was a lie. Risky? Definitely, but she'll be dammed if she's gonna lose this position to her younger brother and let her father decide her life. So she'll take her father's advice. Improvise, be someone that understands.
"Yes. Just like that CEO. There is someone I'm interested in. Here."
Silence swallowed the room.
Mr. Chen froze. Mr. Lian's head lifted, eyes sharp with interest.
Nernakai stopped completely.
He turned back toward her, disbelief cracking through his composure. His eyes widened, like someone who had just stumbled onto a secret passage he never expected to exist.
"Really!?" he blurted out, the professionalism slipping for the first time. "Who? May I see?"
A beat.
Ruoxi's heart skipped.
*Of course he would ask that.*
She rose from her seat with deliberate grace, heels clicking softly against the floor. Every movement was controlled. Inside, her mind raced, assembling possibilities at breakneck speed.
[MOMENTS AGO]
"Yo. Don't you think this part needs some more CGI?" Alun Li said, leaning back in his chair and squinting at the paused frame on his monitor.
The explosion on-screen froze mid-bloom, half-painted, half-rendered.
His friend rolled his chair over, arms crossed.
"Probably," he admitted, scratching his head. "But if we add more, fans are gonna scream again. You've seen the comments. 'Too much CGI.' 'Lazy studio.' 'Bring back hand-drawn.'"
Alun sighed. Of course he'd seen them. He'd read every one.
"Still," Alun muttered, scrubbing his face with one hand, "this cut feels… empty."
"Yeah, but the budget's already crying," his friend said with a dry laugh. "We're barely holding it together as is."
The timeline loomed at the top of the screen.
Deadline: 3 days remaining.
Alun stared at it like it might blink first.
"…Maybe we should ask the team lead," his friend finally suggested. "Get his opinion before we commit."
Alun nodded immediately. "Yeah. Good idea."
They both looked toward the far end of the floor.
Empty chair. Cold coffee. Missing jacket.
The realization hit them at the same time.
"…He's been gone a while," the friend said slowly.
Alun closed his eyes.
"…Smoking," they said in unison.
"Of course," his friend groaned. "He does this every crunch."
"I'll go," Alun said, already standing. "If we wait, he'll disappear for another half hour."
"Good luck," his friend said sympathetically.
Alun waved him off and headed down the corridor, heart thudding with the familiar mix of stress and urgency.
*Three days. Three days and everything collapses.* He thought.
The studio hallway was quieter than usual, lights humming softly overhead. As Alun turned the corner near the executive offices, his mind spiraled.
*If we mess this up, the episode flops. If the episode flops, the studio gets roasted. If the studio gets roasted—*
Thud.
He collided with someone solid.
"Oh—! I'm so sorry—!"
Alun stumbled back, panic already igniting in his chest. His eyes lifted.
Black heels. Immaculate slacks. A tailored blazer.
*…No. No no no no no—* His blood ran cold.
CEO.
Time slowed.
*This is it. This is how it ends. I bumped into the CEO. I'm an animator. A nobody. She probably hates people wandering near her floor. I'm fired. I'll have to pack my desk. Explain to my parents. Update my resume. Who even hires animators right now—*
"Alun Li."
His name.
*She knows my name. I'm dead.*
He snapped upright, bowing too fast. "I—I'm sorry, Ms. Shen! I didn't mean to— I was just— I'll leave immediately—!"
"Oh?" the CEO said calmly. "What a coincidence," she continued, eyes flicking past him toward the corridor. "I was just thinking you would come looking."
Alun froze.
She stepped slightly to the side, her gaze lifting toward someone behind him.
"He must have been coming to my office," she said smoothly. "Anyway—this is him."
*…Him?*
A chill ran down Alun's spine.
He turned, slowly.
At the end of the hallway stood a young man, hands in his pockets, sharp eyes watching the scene unfold with open curiosity.
*An author. A newly famous one. Wait—*
Alun's vision swam.
*No. No no no. Why is he here?*
The CEO's hand settled lightly on Alun's shoulder. His thoughts spiralling, *Is this the mark of death? Yes of course, this is telling me it's over.*
"Don't be nervous," she said softly, almost kindly.
Alun very nearly fainted.
*I'm done. I'm absolutely, completely done!*