hin-ho

The scent of polished leather and strong coffee permeated the corridors of Montenegro & Associates, a smell that Luiz, in his early twenties, had already learned to associate with ambition. He adjusted his tie, feeling the weight of Hin-ho's gaze upon him. The partner, impeccable in his charcoal suit, looked like a statue carved from cold marble, every fiber of his being exuding disapproval.
"What do we have today, Mr. Hin-ho?" Luiz's voice, perhaps a little louder than necessary, echoed in the silent meeting room.
Hin-ho didn't answer immediately. His eyes swept over the pile of documents on the table before landing on Luiz. There was no warmth, only a relentless analysis. "Too young. Too inexperienced. Too daring," Luiz could almost hear the unspoken words. Yet, there was a strange pulse in that gaze, a fleeting gleam that belied the coldness. An ember, he thought, an ember of something Hin-ho tried to stifle with every criticism and every veiled disdain.
“We have a complex acquisition process, Dr. Silva,” Hin-ho finally said, his voice dry. “And I need you to review every contract, every clause, every comma. I want a complete analysis by tomorrow morning. Flawless.”
It was a trap, Luiz knew. Hours of grueling work, a way to test his limits and, perhaps, to make him give up. But while Hin-ho watched him, waiting for a sign of weakness, Luiz felt a strange warmth rise in his chest. It wasn't anger, but a stubborn determination. He nodded, a small, defiant smile playing on his lips.
— Understood, Mr. Hin-ho. You can leave it to me.
Turning to face the mountain of papers, Luiz felt Hin-ho's gaze linger on his back. The ember was there, undeniably burning in a confused way within the man who openly hated him, yet somehow couldn't look away. That office wouldn't be easy, but Luiz was ready for the challenge. And perhaps, to unravel the enigma behind his boss's cold eyes.