The sky outside the lodge was a pale silver, the early morning sun veiled behind soft clouds. Snowflakes still drifted lazily through the air as Maya stepped out of her room, bundled in a cream sweater and thick navy jacket. Her breath puffed in front of her as she padded through the hallway toward the main lounge.

She hadn't expected to see him already waiting.

Richard stood by the entrance, dressed in black, gloves in hand, his eyes cold and unreadable as always. But there was something about the way he looked at her this morning—not harsh, but direct. Studying. Measuring.

"Good. You're not late," he said without greeting.

Maya blinked. "Oh. I-I didn't know we had plans, sir."

"We're going skiing. There's a beginner trail behind the lodge."

"I... um, I've never skied before," she said, voice small.

"I'm aware." He handed her a pair of gloves. "Consider it part of your professional development."

Maya nodded quickly, accepting the gloves with both hands like they were something sacred. "Y-yes, sir."

She followed him outside, her nerves fluttering.

By the time they reached the slope, the world had melted into pure white silence. The trees stood like frozen sentinels, and only the occasional scrape of skis broke the hush. Maya struggled to stay upright as they moved down the slope, her limbs not cooperating.

She slipped for the third time. Richard didn't help. He watched.

"S-sorry," she murmured, cheeks red with more than the cold.

"You could stay upright if you focused," he said, voice cool.

"I—I'm trying," she mumbled, brushing snow off her jeans.

She tried again. This time, she didn't fall—at least not until she reached the bottom, where she tripped over her own foot and tumbled directly into him.

He caught her with an arm to her back, one hand against her wrist.

They both froze.

Her face was close to his chest, breath caught between panic and embarrassment. But what stopped her more than the fall... was that he didn't let go.

No cough. No shiver. No sickness.

Just silence. Sharp and slow.

Maya pulled back quickly, her ears burning. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—I mean, I didn't see—"

He didn't answer immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly, watching her like she was a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

"You're not cold?" he asked.

She blinked. "N-not really. I mean, it's snowing, but I'm okay."

He shook his head, turning to continue down the path. "Strange."

Later, as they returned to the lodge, Maya trudged beside him, pink-cheeked and windblown. She stayed quiet, unsure if she was allowed to speak.

Richard glanced at her. "You didn't fall as much toward the end."

She startled at his voice. "Thank you, sir."

A pause.

"You should change and warm up."

"Yes, sir."

Back inside, the fire roared in the grand lounge. Guests sipped hot drinks and murmured in quiet corners. Maya settled near the fire, holding a mug of cocoa tightly in both hands. Richard stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, gaze not on her, but not away from her either.

"You didn't give up," he said after a long silence.

She looked at him, startled again. "I-I didn't want to be a bother. Or—seem ungrateful."

"Most would have made excuses."

She stared into her cocoa. "I usually mess things up. I just... wanted to try."

Richard's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes flickered.

She added in a whisper, "I don't want to disappoint you, sir."

His gaze lingered.

He should have felt cold. Distant. She was just part of the test. The anomaly.

But something about the way she sat there—nervous, genuine—stirred something long dormant.

He took a step closer.

"You didn't."

Maya blinked, eyes wide. She opened her mouth to respond, but he was already turning away.

"Get some rest."

And just like that, she was left with the fire, the cocoa, and a heart beating a little faster than she could understand.

___

The snow had thickened by nightfall, powdery white cloaking the mountain in silence. The warmth of the lodge pressed softly against the cold, a haven of muted lamps and the low hum of evening conversation.

Maya sat alone in one of the quiet corners of the lodge lounge, a soft throw blanket draped over her lap, a book she hadn't really been reading resting in her hands. She hadn't seen Richard since their earlier conversation. Not that she was looking. Not exactly.

She was just... trying to exist correctly. Quietly. Invisible, if possible. After everything he'd said—cryptic and strange as it was—she didn't want to risk breaking whatever weird, professional truce they were keeping.

Her fingers turned another page she wasn't reading. Then another.

Across the room, he watched her.

He hadn't meant to. He hadn't even entered the lounge for her. But the second he'd stepped inside and caught sight of her tucked into that small armchair by the window, he'd stopped.

She looked too small for the chair, legs tucked up beneath her like a child, brows furrowed as though trying hard to pretend she belonged there.

There was no fear in her body, though. No tremor. No unconscious recoil like the others.

And the longer he watched her, the more it gnawed at him.

Richard sat down in the seat nearest the fireplace, one where he could still see her out of the corner of his eye. A few guests murmured around them, but most had retired. He didn't speak. Didn't move.

But his thoughts were anything but still.

She had stumbled into him earlier that day—skin to skin, breath close, heartbeat loud—and there'd been nothing. No sickness. No change. Just... Maya. Looking mortified. Flushed. Apologizing. Again.

Why?

He watched the curve of her jaw as she tilted her head, the way her lips moved silently as she read. There was nothing in her that suggested resistance, or strength. She wasn't a shielded being. She was human. Soft. Fallible.

And yet her presence left no mark on him. Not the kind it should have.

He stared into the fire. Something stirred in him—slow, uninvited. Attraction wasn't unfamiliar to him, but this was different. Not sharp and sudden, but slow and steady, rising from the unanswerable puzzle that was her.

He looked back again.

She shifted.

Her eyes caught his. Just for a second.

And like always, she startled. Not outwardly. But he saw it in the way her spine straightened, her book fumbled, her hands adjusted the throw over her legs as if sitting properly might save her from whatever wrong she had just committed by making eye contact.

He shouldn't have found it... endearing.

He rose from his chair without fully thinking it through and approached her.

Maya's eyes widened.

"Sir?"

"Relax," he said flatly, though his tone was missing its usual bite. "You looked like you were waiting for someone."

She blinked. "I—wasn't."

He nodded once. "Good."

He took the seat across from her, leaving a space of polite silence between them. But his eyes lingered. He didn't bother hiding it this time.

"You look uncomfortable."

Maya's back straightened again. "I'm not."

"You're a terrible liar."

She pressed her lips together, face hot. "I'm just... trying to be professional."

His gaze flicked to the book in her lap. "That book's upside down."

Maya looked down in horror. "Oh my God."

For a breath, the corners of his mouth moved. Not quite a smile. Not even close. But something unguarded passed through his face, quickly gone.

He let her fumble to fix the book, then leaned forward slightly. "Why do you always look like you're on the verge of apologizing?"

Maya didn't answer right away. She stared down at the pages. Then, voice soft, she said, "Because I usually am."

Richard watched her.

"You're very hard to read," she added quickly, as if regretting speaking at all.

"That's intentional."

"Right. Of course." She tightened her hold on the book, as if it might defend her. "I didn't mean—sorry. I'll go back to my room."

She moved to rise.

"Stay."

The word halted her completely.

Maya looked at him, unsure if she had heard correctly.

"I didn't ask you to leave," he said, more controlled now. But still, his eyes held hers a moment longer than necessary.

Something in that look made her sit back down—carefully. As if she might mess up just by existing too loudly.

Richard leaned back in his chair again, expression unreadable. "Do I make you that nervous?"

Maya stared at the fire. "You make everyone nervous, sir."

He didn't argue that. But his mind was elsewhere.

She wasn't afraid of him in the way others were—not instinctively, not in the way that drove people to sweat and flinch. Her nervousness was something else, politeness maybe but not fear of what he was.

He glanced at her again.

The silence between them stretched long and strange, but not unpleasant. Outside, the snow continued to fall. Inside, the fire cracked gently, a rhythmic companion to the thoughts he couldn't name.

She yawned softly, clearly trying to hide it. Her posture curled in on itself.

"You're falling asleep."

Maya startled, embarrassed. "No, I'm—just resting my eyes." 

He stood. "Go to bed."

She fumbled for words, unsure whether she was dismissed or ordered or...

He turned away. "I'll need you early tomorrow."

She watched his back as he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway. Only when he was gone did she allow her shoulders to drop.

And somewhere deep inside Richard's thoughts—beneath the calculations and doubts and theories—a sliver of something quiet stirred.

Something warm.

Something wanting.