"My Lord," You knocked four times on the dark wooden door. "If you're not busy, can we talk for a moment?"

"Sure, come in."

The barracks were quiet and the hallways were dark. Every soldier has retired for the night and the only ones left awake were the occasional guards standing by the main posts of the basecamp and a certain Fatui Harbinger in his office. You, on the other hand, were supposed to be in your office as well to get ready for bed but, you just couldn't shut your eyes without seeing the image of your brother's body on the snow.

For the past few hours, you secluded yourself inside your office pretending to be hard at work. However, you were doing quite the opposite. You were pacing back and forth around the perimeter of the room, with your head in your hands as you fought back tears. There came a time when the usual roll-call for dinner but even that didn't make you get out of your office.

After a few more hours of thinking and strategizing a way to speak with your boss, you finally came up with a plan. From the weapons rack, you took both of your spray guns and harnessed them to their appropriate places on your hips. Never in your life did you think you would have to do something as drastic as this... but there was always a price that had to be paid if you messed with someone's family.

The wonderful thing about having a Cryo Vision is that you're able to operate your spray guns without the use of a Cryo tank. The tank is not for show, however, it's to control the Cryo energy being fed into the guns. You can fire sharp and explosive shots of ice bullets at targets without a problem, but the tank allows you to spray your enemies with the everlasting Snezhnayan frost to give the victim a more slow and painful death.

So, here you were, inside Harbinger Scaramouche's office with your guns at your hips and without your Cryo tank. You slowly shut the door behind yourself and felt your stomach drop the moment you heard the knob click. Although your offices were connected with one door (separated by a single wall), you felt like you stepped into new, unwelcoming, territory.

It never failed to amaze you how beautifully designed Scaramouche's workspace was: there was a shelf full of books behind the desk, a crackling fireplace on the right side of the room, and a hat-stand in the far left corner (there rested his beautiful headwear). Blue moonlight shined through the small spaces of the curtains and you could tell that it must be absolutely freezing outside.

In the back, sitting comfortably in his luxurious chair, was a very much awake, and hatless, Scaramouche. It was the end of the day, surely he must be the least bit tired, but nope, his dark eyes show no signs of wanting to sleep. He noticed you staring and finally set down a fountain pen into the pencil holder to the side, waiting for something to happen.

Your gaze shifted to his desk and you saw a tall stack of papers waiting to be read and signed. Almost automatically, you frowned at the sight and shook your head, "Sir, I asked to speak with you if you're not busy... Clearly, there's still plenty of paperwork that needs to be finished."

"I can always find the time to continue with my work. As you can see, I'm giving you my full attention... Isn't that so nice of me?" Scaramouche entwined his fingers and rested his chin on the back of his hands, grinning with subtle charm. "Speaking to you is much more entertaining than reading these boring documents."

You felt the distance between you and Scaramouche's desk shrink. Not only were you having a go at his poor work attitude, but it completely backfired the moment he said his flirtatious retort. There must be a way to make him at least a little self-cautious. He must have a weakness that just needed to be uncovered. And you had to find it quickly.

"Why do you have your weapons equipped?" Scaramouche asked casually.

"A handful of recruit Cicin Mages wanted me to train with them... So, we had a mini-sparring competition..."

"Really now?" His eyes travelled up and down and then rolled in a provoking manner. "Near your bedtime? What horrible timing, don't you think?"

You felt a hole growing in the middle of your throat. You're such a terrible liar. Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa can't save you now. You were never good at coming up with answers on the spot. So, Scaramouche knew that you were lying. You seem to have forgotten that a few hours ago, he ordered that everyone should avoid any and all contact with you.

Now, you could tell the Harbinger's situational awareness had gone up a level. He was sitting up more properly and his shoulders were suddenly looking more relaxed, his fingers were slowly rubbing together. You too, felt the room starting to close in on the two of you, it wasn't a good feeling. Surely, there was no way to surprise attack him, right?

"There is no need for you to lie to me," Scaramouche denounced, looking slightly upset and then went back to looking aloof. "You can just say you're more comfortable with your weapons on your person. I don't blame you for wanting to protect yourself. In fact, I approve of it."

You forced a crooked smile which made your nerves relax a bit, "Thank you for being so understanding, sir..."

Once again, the room was quiet. There were the occasional creaks and glass shaking from the icy, sharp wind outside. Scaramouche was telling the truth, his attention was one hundred percent on you. It was like you were a sinner in the eyes of a God, you didn't want to move out of fear you would offend him and then feel the wrath of judgement.

But Scaramouche wasn't some kind of God and he should never be seen as one. You seriously doubt that he would even consider being merciful. Scaramouche is not a God. He's just as fragile, delicate, and weak in mind, body, and soul. Right? That means there is a way for him to die. Right? Scaramouche can be killed. Right. Gods can die.

With a small thud on the desk, the young man pushed a few folders of paper to the side and then adjusted himself on the chair. You continued to stand there with your thumbs twirling cluelessly, the awkward silence was eating you up inside and out, slowly breaking down your self-confidence. You heard an entertained chuckle.

"Don't you think it's a little inappropriate for you to come into my office in the middle of the night?" Scaramouche commented enticingly, flames from the fireplace flickered in the perfect angle where his eyes gleamed with a concupiscence implication- something you were still inexperienced with.

"I just wanted to talk to you about something, my Lord."

"Oh really? You only want to talk to me?" It seemed like Scaramouche was trying to challenge you but decided not to pursue it. He returned to his usual authoritative behaviour. "If it's about your workload, I can decrease it if you want."

"No, it's not that, sir..."

You didn't have the courage to say anything else. Once again, you fell mute. It's never happened like this before.

Even though there were times when you felt tongue-tied or at least a bit head-over-heels to the point where you were speechless, it's not like that now.

You were filled with indescribable contempt, like the mere presence of your traitor of a boss was enough to make you want to vomit.

"I want to quit."

"What did you say?" Scaramouche's voice quivered.

You repeated yourself, "I want to quit my job as your secretary."

"No, you don't."

"This isn't what I signed up for."

"Take that back."

"I said, I want to go back home."

You could see it on his face. His ill-contorted face. He had that scowl he would always have in front of disrespectful recruits. Or in this case, a difficult secretary. From the looks of it, Scaramouche was slowly, but surely, breaking. You knew he was thinking about the possibility of you knowing what he had done to your brother. This was how you grieved for your brother.

This was your revenge.

"What?" Your voice sounded much more bitter than before. "Do you even hear the words that are coming out of my mouth, sir?"

Scaramouche was at a loss but didn't act like it, "You know, I always try to be honest with you and I still am right now. I've been looking at those pretty lips of yours ever since you started talking and I understand what you're saying. I just don't believe the complete nonsense and utter stupidity that you're rambling about."

He was caught in between shaking his head and curling his hands into tight fists. It was obvious he was trying to control whatever angry outburst was building up inside of him. Still, Scaramouche had a sliver of self-control and that was enough to keep him from flipping his desk over.

"You want me to beg for you to stay, is that it?"

"No sir..." You answered quietly, a little taken back. "I'm just asking for your permission if I could resign..."

"No way," Scaramouche sneered at the dreadful attempt. "You want to see me bow and worship you like you're some kind of Archon? I'll do it. I'll get on my knees and crawl to you like the worm you see me as. That's what you really want, right? While I'm down there do you want me to kiss your shoes, caress your legs, and tell you how much I need you to stay with me? I'll do it."

"No... sir... don't-"

You gasped and jumped back fearfully when Scaramouche stood up from his chair. For a second, you shut your eyes and felt your heart skip a few beats. Even without a single hit on your body, he already got you breathing heavily and cowering away, pitifully attempting to defend yourself. You were having second thoughts.

How does he not abuse his power more often? If you were on his level, only the Gods know what you would do to the poor souls underneath you. All he did was stand up and you already felt a punishment coming. You can't stand this treatment anymore. It's time to fight back.

Scaramouche irritably rubbed the back of his head, ruffling his hair out of frustration. He leaned back and crossed his arms, obviously upset, "It seems that you forgot about the oath you took. Do you want me to refresh your memory?"

You sighed breathlessly and glanced to the floor, "I remember it very clearly, my Lord."

"Then why are you even considering leaving the Fatui?"

His words made you flinch and made your lips tremble shut, refusing to respond. Scaramouche saw your silence as a good enough answer.

"Ah, I get it... You're lying just to get my attention." The tone of his voice was almost offensive by the way he mocked you. "How naive, you're just like a little girl. Childish and foolish... Though I'll admit, you almost got me begging on my knees for you not to leave."

First of all, that's completely contradicting what he said at the beginning of the conversation. Didn't Scaramouche just say that he would gladly give you his undivided attention instead of working on actual important stuff? Secondly, you were growing angrier with yourself since you were failing to come up with a response. Again, you felt like the arrogant little kid he was calling you.

"Come to me," Scaramouche ordered, raising his hand and curling his finger towards himself. "I want to tell you a secret that should only be discussed between the two of us. Stand right here, don't even think about running away."

It seemed like the only thing you were good at was obeying useless commands. What a life you have. You didn't think too much of it when you mindlessly followed his orders, effortlessly stepping across the room to get to the Harbinger.

The walk felt increasingly hot. You didn't know why, perhaps it was the crackling fireplace or the dagger-filled stares being thrown your way. What's this secret Lord Scaramouche is going to share with me? What if he's actually mad? Is this a punishment in disguise? Am I going to end up like big brother? My Lord is probably going to hit me with his chair-

Just as you made it to the front of his desk, Scaramouche also followed through and slowly sauntered around the table, walking one finger after the other over the files of paper. You tried to stand as steadily as you could as if you were in the middle of roll-call, but even the dumbest soldiers could tell that you were shaking at the knees.

Scaramouche stopped walking and let out an intrigued murmur, like a held-back chuckle, right against the top of your ear. You were now alongside the sixth Fatui Harbinger himself, refusing to look at him no matter how close he was inching towards the side of your face.

"I know what you're doing," He whispered eagerly. "Don't act all innocent now that I trapped you in a dead-end. I finally got you."

"I don't understand what you're saying..." Honestly, you really didn't. You were expecting him to hit you or give you a warning strike on the back of your leg but that wasn't the case. Which was very strange, even for Scaramouche.

The young man laughed at your obliviousness, "You're tempting me to make the first move, I can tell. Girls like you are so difficult to read, it's almost annoying but... it adds excitement."

You finally got the courage to look at him, "I am in no way doing that to you, sir... I don't intentionally make myself difficult to read..."

"What? Do you want me to explain how you're tempting me?"

Of course, you wanted an explanation, it's better to be fully aware of a situation's context before moving forward.

Scaramouche glanced around the dim-lit room, thinking of an example. He leaned his lower back against the wooden desk and pondered deeply, you saw it in the way he smirked that he finally thought of something to satisfy your curiosity. You continued to stay put, your body facing the table but your eyes managed to fall back to him.

"Let's think of it this way," Scaramouche prompted. "A young lady walks into her boss's office in the middle of her bedtime and pretends to have gotten lost on the way to her dormitory- the dumbest excuse he has ever heard. How could the Harbinger's secretary-assistant make such a dumb mistake to voluntarily place herself at the mercy of a man's late-night desires? Unless she planned for it to happen in the first place."

So, this is how Lord Scaramouche sees this as... So much for attempting to intimidate him...

He continued to openly fantasize, "How do you think this is going to end, hm? Because of your stupid decisions, you have potentially exposed yourself to lose something precious tonight. So, what now? What do you have to say in response to my suggestive insults?"

"My Lord, I do not take offence to your insults." Most of the time, you wanted to add.

"You like me, don't you?"

His random assumption just made you shut up. It felt like a surprise slap in the face. His words repeated over and over in your head. Did Scaramouche mean like as in romantically or platonically? Sure, you liked him but liked him...? You weren't so sure.

Again, your silence was a good enough answer.

"At first, I had a feeling that you didn't since I am your superior, the person you look up to the most. However, from that stargazed look on your face and the way you act around me, I can assume that my suspicions are true. You have a childish crush on me... why does saying that make me a little happy?" Scaramouche let out a deep sigh, tilting his head bashfully. "So, what is this? A confession? I want to say that you kind of butchered it."

Speechless. You were utterly speechless. You didn't say anything. On the other hand, Scaramouche was the one who was rambling endlessly. He didn't seem to notice you grabbing onto your hip holster.

"From my understanding, this wasn't planned at all. Maybe you finally came to terms with your feelings towards your boss so you just had to tell me right away? That's weird, even for you, [Y/N]. If you were going to profess your love for me, you should have just run into my arms and I'll spin you around like the cliches you hear in fairytales...! Just kidding."

When he saw that you weren't speaking, Scaramouche paused and gave you a little pout. He slid closer and turned over so he was facing directly at you, he was so close that you could practically place your hand on his chest if you merely moved your arm upwards. Normally, people, especially men, who enter your personal space end up leaving with a broken nose or cut lips, yet you didn't want to push this man away.

"Are you embarrassed? If it makes you feel better, just know that I don't plan on telling the other Harbingers about this thing we might have... But I have to say, we've only known each other for a few days, you seem a little too desperate." Scaramouche thought about what he had just said and then started to grin menacingly. "Do you like me that much? I've never had someone feel this way about me before."

What is happening? You felt the gun slipping from your grasp since your hands started to become clammy. It was impossible to tell if Scaramouche was pulling at your leg or actually being genuine. Was he angry? Was he getting too immersed in this fictional story he just made up out of the blue? Does he have a fever or something?!

"We both know it's against the rules to have romantic relationships within the Military. The Fatui is not the ideal place to fall in love with your comrades. You really never know if they'll return from their expeditions or not."

All it took was Scaramouche taking one more step closer to be right in front of you. A gasp showed how surprised you were to realize that he was trying to corner you against the desk, you seriously didn't know it would have turned out like this!

He placed a hand on the table and daringly inched closer, "But, I'll be honest, I do think you're a very beautiful girl..."

"I'm glad you think so, my Lord..." You gulped down your anxious stuttering.

"And... I'm a little bit in denial that you find me attractive..."

As much as you were shocked to hear his insecurities, you scolded him for having such negative thoughts, "Sir, you shouldn't belittle yourself... It makes you less confident in the battlefield, which can get you killed..."

Scaramouche went back to his aloof attitude, his eyes becoming half-lidded, "So, is this dumb 'no relationships' rule the reason why you want to quit? Do you want to be with me that badly?"

You glanced around as you thought of an appropriate answer, "I enjoy working with you as partners...?"

"Really? Didn't you want to quit a few minutes ago?"

Again, you shut yourself up. This has never happened like this before, you have never contradicted yourself so much. Why now? Was there something in the air that was making your brain work more slowly? Perhaps Scaramouche's close proximity was turning you stupid? Your thoughts were everywhere at the moment.

"Don't be acting so shy now," He dragged out his words, his chest now pressing up against yours. "It's important for a secretary and boss to be honest with each other. I want to know how you really feel about me."

"Well," You sighed. "I think you're very amazing, sir... Too amazing..."