"This is going to be fun."
"For you."
"Exactly."
Ishira dropped her head onto the table.
Because tomorrow—
She wasn't just attending class.
She was getting a personal mentorship from the Devil himself.
And somehow—
That sounded more terrifying than the summit.
The rest of the day passed surprisingly peacefully.
Classes.
Assignments.
Notes.
Normal university things.
Almost suspiciously normal.
By the last lecture, even Ishira had started believing the day might end without any trouble.
A mistake.
A huge mistake.
Because the moment the final bell rang—
Her phone vibrated.
One message.
😈 Devil: Trustee Office. 5 minutes.
Ishira stared at the screen.
Then typed immediately.
🦋 Butterfly: No.
The reply arrived instantly.
😈 Devil: 4 minutes.
Her eye twitched.
🦋 Butterfly: I am going home.
😈 Devil: 3 minutes.
🦋 Butterfly: You can't order me around.
😈 Devil: 2 minutes.
The audacity.
The absolute audacity.
Beside her, Kiara peeked at the messages.
Then burst out laughing.
"He started a countdown."
"I noticed."
"Honestly, I'm impressed."
"Kiara."
"I'm just saying."
Ishira grabbed her bag dramatically.
"Fine."
"Good luck."
"Traitor."
"Thank you."
Trustee Office
The door opened.
And Ishira walked inside without knocking.
Already annoyed.
Already prepared to argue.
Inside, Ivaan sat behind his desk.
Several files lay open before him.
His sleeves were rolled up.
His attention fixed on a laptop.
Without even looking up, he spoke.
"Six minutes."
Ishira froze.
"What?"
"You were one minute late."
Her jaw dropped.
"You counted?"
"Yes."
The answer came immediately.
Like it was completely normal.
Which somehow made it worse.
Ishira threw her bag onto the sofa.
"I hate this mentorship already."
"Sit."
"No."
"Butterfly."
"No."
The dark gaze he lifted toward her immediately ended the argument.
Five seconds later—
She was sitting.
Grumbling.
Very loudly.
Meanwhile, Ivaan calmly pushed a file toward her.
"Read."
"What is it?"
"The summit schedule."
Ishira opened the file.
And immediately regretted it.
Dozens of pages.
Dozens.
"You're joking."
"I'm not."
"This is torture."
"It's preparation."
"It's torture."
For the first time—
A faint smirk appeared.
Gone instantly.
Unfortunately, she saw it.
And that only annoyed her more.
Then suddenly—
Another file landed beside the first one.
Then another.
Then another.
Ishira stared.
Horrified.
"Devil."
"Hm?"
"I have classes."
"You do."
"I have assignments."
"You do."
"I have a life."
A pause.
Then—
"Debatable."
The silence that followed was deadly.
Absolutely deadly.
Somewhere deep inside—
Ishira was planning his murder.
Meanwhile—
The Devil looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Meanwhile—
The Devil looked entirely too pleased with himself.
Ishira stared at the mountain of files on the table.
Then at him.
Then back at the files.
Then back at him again.
"You're enjoying this."
"No."
"You're lying."
"No."
"You are."
"No."
The calm answers somehow made everything worse.
With dramatic suffering, she opened the first file.
The summit schedule.
Guest speakers.
Business sessions.
Leadership panels.
Networking events.
Everything looked boring.
Very boring.
For exactly three minutes.
Then—
A particular name caught her attention.
Her eyes stopped moving.
She blinked once.
Twice.
Then immediately grabbed the file.
"What?"
Ivaan looked up from his laptop.
"What happened?"
Ishira pointed at a page.
"This."
He glanced at it.
Then immediately understood.
A guest list.
And one specific name.
Aryan Sharma.
Ishira sat upright.
"My brother is coming?"
"Yes."
The answer was simple.
Immediate.
As if it was obvious.
The shock on her face was almost amusing.
"He never told me."
"He probably forgot."
"He doesn't forget."
"Then he didn't tell you."
That sounded more accurate.
Meanwhile, Ishira continued reading.
Several international businessmen.
University leaders.
CEOs.
Investors.
People from all over the world.
The summit was much bigger than she originally thought.
And then—
Another realization hit.
Slowly.
Dangerously slowly.
Her eyes lifted from the paper.
Toward Ivaan.
Toward the man sitting behind the desk.
Toward the Devil.
A terrible feeling appeared.
"Wait."
Ivaan already knew where this was going.
"Wait."
The feeling got worse.
"You're one of the speakers."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Then—
"Yes."
The answer nearly made her close the file.
Immediately.
The betrayal.
The absolute betrayal.
"You didn't tell me."
"You didn't ask."
That answer deserved jail time.
At minimum.
Before she could argue further—
A knock sounded at the door.
Three sharp knocks.
Ivaan's expression immediately changed.
Cold.
Professional.
Dangerous.
"Enter."
The door opened.
One of his assistants walked inside carrying a black envelope.
The man approached quickly.
Handing it directly to Ivaan.
"Sir."
The assistant's voice was serious.
Very serious.
Immediately, Ivaan's eyes narrowed.
The room suddenly felt different.
He opened the envelope.
Read the contents.
And for the first time that evening—
His expression darkened.
Completely.
Ishira noticed immediately.
Because whatever was written inside—
The Devil didn't like it.
Not one bit.
The assistant lowered his voice.
"Should I call Mr. Zyan?"
A brief silence followed.
Then Ivaan closed the envelope.
"Yes."
His tone was calm.
Too calm.
Which somehow felt more dangerous.
The assistant nodded and left.
The door closed.
Silence filled the office.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Finally—
Ishira looked up from her files.
"What happened?"
Ivaan's gaze remained on the black envelope.
Unreadable.
Cold.
Calculating.
Then he replied—
"Nothing you need to worry about."
Unfortunately—
That answer only made her worry more.
She folded her arms.
"Ivaan."
No answer.
He was already typing something on his phone.
Fast.
Focused.
Dangerously focused.
"Ivaan."
Still nothing.
The audacity.
The absolute audacity.
She stood from her chair.
Walked around the desk.
And tried to peek at the envelope.
Immediately—
A hand covered it.
Ivaan didn't even look up.
"Sit down."
"No."
"Butterfly."
"No."
His eyes finally lifted from the phone.
One look.
Just one.
And somehow she found herself back in her chair.
Annoyingly.
Very annoyingly.
A few moments later—
The office door opened.
Without knocking.
Only one person dared do that.
Zyan.
He walked inside.
Took one look at Ivaan.
Then at the black envelope.
And immediately became serious.
The joking disappeared.
Completely.
"What happened?"
Ivaan slid the envelope across the table.
Zyan opened it.
Read the contents.
Then muttered—
"Well..."
A pause.
"This is bad."
Ishira looked between them.
"Would someone explain?"
Neither did.
Instead—
Zyan and Ivaan exchanged a look.
One of those silent conversations that annoyed everyone around them.
Finally—
Ishira stood again.
"I'm leaving."
Neither stopped her.
Which somehow felt suspicious.
Very suspicious.
She grabbed her bag.
Walked toward the door.
Then—
"Butterfly."
She paused.
Slowly turning around.
Ivaan's expression had softened slightly.
Only slightly.
"Go straight home."
Her eyebrows immediately rose.
"What?"
"Straight home."
"I know how roads work."
The answer earned a faint glare.
"Don't stop anywhere."
Now she was definitely suspicious.
"Why?"
A brief silence followed.
Then—
"Because I said so."
The worst answer possible.
Immediately.
"No."
The response came before she could stop it.
Zyan closed his eyes.
Already tired.
Very tired.
Because arguing had begun again.
Ivaan leaned back in his chair.
Cold.
Calm.
Dangerous.
"No?"
"No."
"I wasn't asking."
"Neither was I."
Zyan rubbed his forehead.
This was exhausting.
Finally, after several seconds of staring at each other—
Ivaan sighed.
A rare event.
Very rare.
Then he spoke.
"Just go home safely."
The words were simple.
But different.
Different enough for Ishira to notice.
For a moment—
She didn't argue.
Didn't tease.
Didn't roll her eyes.
Instead, she simply nodded.
"Fine."
Then she left.
The door closed behind her.
Silence filled the office.
For several moments neither man spoke.
Then Zyan dropped the envelope onto the desk.
"The threat is real."
"Yes."
"And the summit is only weeks away."
"Yes."
"And whoever sent this is either brave..."
A dangerous smile appeared on Ivaan's face.
Or perhaps dangerous wasn't the right word.
Maybe deadly.
"...or stupid."
The room became quiet.
Because both men already knew—
The person behind that black envelope had just made a very serious mistake.
Ishira walked out of the administration building.
Still thinking about the strange envelope.
The serious expressions.
The warning.
Everything.
For some reason—
It bothered her.
A lot.
Usually, the Devil always had a sarcastic answer.
Always had a smirk.
Always looked in control.
But today—
For a few seconds—
He had looked genuinely concerned.
And that was unusual.
Very unusual.
Meanwhile, back inside the office.
Zyan was still standing near the desk.
"The sender used an old channel."
Ivaan's expression remained cold.
"Track it."
"It's already being done."
The room fell silent.
Then Zyan folded his arms.
"You told her to go home."
"Yes."
"Politely."
No answer.
"Politely, Ivaan."
A dangerous glare met him instantly.
Unfortunately, Zyan had known him for too long to care.
"This Butterfly situation is becoming serious."
Silence.
"I mean it."
More silence.
Then—
"I know."
That answer surprised even Zyan.
Because Ivaan rarely admitted anything.
Ever.
Before he could say anything else—
Ivaan's phone vibrated.
A message.
His eyes lowered.
Then immediately narrowed.
🦋 Butterfly: I am not going home.
The room became silent.
Very silent.
Zyan looked at the screen.
Then slowly looked toward Ivaan.
Then slowly looked toward the ceiling.
Praying.
For everyone.
Especially Ishira.
Another message appeared.
🦋 Butterfly: Kiara wants coffee.
🦋 Butterfly: So we are going for coffee.
A dangerous calm settled over the office.
The kind that usually happened before someone regretted their life choices.
Very deeply.
Zyan took one step backward.
Just in case.
Then—
Ivaan typed a reply.
😈 Devil: No.
The answer arrived immediately.
🦋 Butterfly: Too late.
😈 Devil: Butterfly.
🦋 Butterfly: Devil.
😈 Devil: Go home.
🦋 Butterfly: No.
Zyan closed his eyes.
Because this conversation was unfolding exactly as expected.
Which was badly.
Very badly.
Then another message arrived.
🦋 Butterfly: Anyway, I'm already at the café.
The silence afterward was terrifying.
Absolutely terrifying.
Ivaan slowly stood.
Picked up his car keys.
And grabbed his coat.
Zyan immediately pointed at him.
"No."
No response.
"No."
Still nothing.
"You're not going there."
The look Ivaan gave him said otherwise.
Very otherwise.
Zyan groaned dramatically.
"I cannot believe a mafia king is leaving an emergency meeting because a stubborn girl wants coffee."
Ivaan buttoned his coat.
Expression unreadable.
Then calmly replied—
"Finish the meeting."
And walked out.
Leaving behind a speechless Zyan.
Across Manhattan...
Inside a small café near the river...
Ishira was happily drinking coffee with Kiara.
Completely unaware.
That the Devil was already on his way.
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