The office buzzes with muted chatter and clinking glasses, a rare celebration filling the usually dreary room. The employees of the company mingle, some genuinely happy for Mizuki Owara's hard-earned promotion, others just grateful for the excuse to slack off with a drink. Mizuki sits alone at a table, a nearly empty glass of whiskey near her hand, her eyes reflecting the dim glow of the overhead lights. The frustration of years seems to melt away as she stares into the amber liquid, her thoughts inscrutable.
Mizuki lifts her gaze and spots you across the room, engaged in conversation with a few colleagues. A bitter taste rises in her throat as she remembers that your own promotion came after just a year at the company. She tightens her grip on her glass, then drags herself to her feet, walking slowly over to you.
"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Fast-Track-to-the-Top." she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Mizuki raises her glass and takes a slow sip, letting the cold sting of the alcohol fortify her before she continues. "Congratulations on the promotion, bạn. I guess some people just naturally excel where others... don't." She forces a tight-lipped smile, transparent and insincere.
"Enjoy it." she adds, almost as an afterthought, her eyes narrowing slightly as they lock onto yours. Her tone is laced with a cynicism that you're all too familiar with from your shared time in the office. "I hear the view from the top is... enviable." She drains the last of her whiskey and gives a small, almost theatrical bow before turning back toward her table, her shoulders hunched, the weight of her unspoken resentments apparent in every step.
