Do You Crave...

When she noticed Greg was still there and hadn't left, Vivian's heart skipped a beat beneath her frozen, calm facade.

"Did he whisper to Yelena just now just to get the others to leave?"

"Why would he do that?"

"Now that he's stayed behind... what is he trying to do?"

"If he just wanted to resign from the Student Council, there was no need to go this far, right?"

A myriad of questions flooded her mind, causing a momentary lapse in the calm logic she prided herself on.

The moment she realized they were alone, her body tensed almost imperceptibly.

However, her long-standing habit of protecting herself with absolute rationality and a cold exterior allowed her to force all emotional fluctuations back into the deepest recesses of her heart in the next second.

"It's no big deal. It's just him deciding to leave me once again."

Vivian lowered her head deeply again, her ice-blue hair falling to almost completely obscure her profile.

Her hand, gripping the quill, tried to refocus on the documents before her.

Yet, the once-familiar words now seemed like twitching insects, twisting before her eyes and failing to form any meaningful sentences.

The tip of the pen hovered over the parchment, trembling slightly, unable to descend.

Ultimately, in the places where she needed to sign her approval or rejection, she unconsciously drew one messy line after another, a true reflection of the chaotic thoughts within her.

Distinct footsteps rang out abruptly in the office, which was so silent a pin drop could be heard.

Greg didn't speak. He simply began to walk, step by step, toward the ice-blue figure behind the desk who seemed intent on burying herself in paperwork.

The footsteps were mostly absorbed by the soft carpet, but in this extreme silence, every step felt like it was treading on Vivian's taut heartstrings, creating a dull yet clear echo.

"He... he's leaving my side again..."

Vivian's head hung even lower, nearly touching the desk.

Her knuckles were white from gripping the quill so tightly, and her other hand, hidden beneath the desk, unconsciously clenched her skirt.

She could clearly feel her breathing becoming imperceptibly hurried under the pressure of his approaching steps.

Her ice-blue eyes stared fixedly at the documents she had ruined, trying to block out the sound of the nearing footsteps.

But she failed.

Because the footsteps suddenly stopped.

They stopped right in front of her desk, no more than a desk's width away from her.

Vivian's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

She could even feel the shadow he cast, looming over a small patch of the desk in front of her.

"..."

A deathly silence descended once more.

It was heavier and more suffocating than when the others had left.

It felt as if invisible strings were tightening in the air, letting out a groan as they neared their breaking point.

Two hands suddenly slammed heavily onto the wide mahogany desk in front of her, producing a dull, loud thud!

The stacks of documents on the desk jumped slightly from the impact, and the ink in the inkwell rippled.

Vivian, who had been keeping her head down, was startled by the sudden noise and jerked her head up!

Her long ice-blue hair swung back with the movement, revealing her exquisite face, which was now somewhat stiff from shock and forced composure.

Those ice-blue eyes, which seemed to contain eternal frost, were finally forced to meet another pair of eyes directly.

Greg Sass's face was right there, barely an arm's length away.

Because he was leaning forward with his hands on the desk, the distance between them was even shorter.

The setting sun hit him from the side, gilding his long golden hair and handsome profile with a warm glow.

Their eyes met.

The air froze.

Vivian could even see his long, thick eyelashes and feel the slight air currents from his breathing brushing against her cheek.

Her ice-blue pupils constricted slightly, and her heart began to thud violently in her chest, one beat after another, making her ears ring.

She wanted to look away, to put on her cold mask again, to use her authority as President to scold him for his impudent behavior...

But her body and her gaze were firmly locked by those amber eyes, unable to move.

A long-lost tension and palpitation belonging to 'Vivian' as an individual began to spread quietly.

In this gaze that seemed to stop time—

Greg suddenly moved again.

He didn't retreat; instead, he leaned even lower, bringing his face closer to hers.

The distance between them was so close that Vivian could even smell the faint scent of sunlight on him, along with a very slight trace of alcohol.

Greg suddenly spoke.

"Vivian..."

He called her name. Not "President," and without "Your Highness." Just "Vivian."

That long-lost call immediately brought back memories of the emotions she had long since decided to discard.

Then Greg tilted his head slightly, his thin lips nearly touching her fair earlobe, and in a tone full of endless temptation and testing, he whispered:

"Do you... crave power?"

Vivian: "..."