His dainty porcelain-like fingers flipped the thick on the books filled with the collection of artworks he used as a pose reference. As an artist, I too understood these doings. It’s a thing we do to make fancy poses that we think are eye-catching and in character. I placed down a part of the manuscript that I linked to his table, the fruit of countless hours spent laboriously crafting every stroke, every curve, and every line of the esteemed Crisostomo Ibarra, alongside the enigmatic figure of Sensei Takashi. 

For the past few weeks, I had been assisting the illustrious artist in bringing his vision to life, painstakingly perfecting each panel until they were worthy of bearing his signature pseudonym, AeRion. Maeri was there helping him in the panels. I, Maeri was there helping him with the manga panels. As his delicate fingers danced across the pages of the art collection, I couldn't help but mentally note his features, his nose that was sharp like one of those Greek statues, and sharp grey eye pupils. Perhaps these features of foreign blood manifested in his features were the reason why some people I know treat him differently. But then again maybe it's his personality. Who am I to ridicule their standards? Everybody has different likes. There was a race mixed in in his bloodline, which explains it. 

“Here are other panels, Sensei.” It makes him unique in some way. 

“Thank you.” And I like his work. 

“Do you think my readers can relate to my works?” He asked not to look at me, but still on the screen. “Do you think it will sell well?” he always asks those questions and I always say,

“If you think it has enough emotional content then it could sell very well.” or somewhere along the lines of “You draw beautifully, readers like beautiful art”. He always seems to accept it and continues to draw. I honestly don’t mind telling it to him repeatedly. I like him. I won’t mind endearingly being an old broken record telling him he does great.

Today, he is creating two mangas under two different names, AeRion and the other under his name Asahi Takuma. It’s only the both of us who know about this manga, under his name AeRion. He told me as much as possible he didn’t want anyone to know about it. I mostly is the one who communicates to the other company about it doubling the job as the face of the author AeRion.

Takahashi Sensei's conversation habits aren’t like mine but he does pay attention most of the time. 

“I just want to let you know, Maeri. I am extremely grateful to you. You're doing all this work for me.” 

“It's not only my effort sensei. It's also yours.”

“Yes, I know.” Somehow despite his shitty words, I found myself increasingly drawn towards Takashi. Perhaps it stemmed from his cryptic nature and secrets he likes to keep, that make him shrouded beneath layers waiting to be deciphered, or simply because he possessed qualities absent amongst most other people I've interacted with. Whatever the reason, this pit within me grew.

“Do you mind getting my reference book on the shelf for me?” 

“Okay. Which one?” 

“The one on the top of the shelf.” 

“Okay.” I pulled the nearest chair and stood there. 

“Do you think it will sell well?” 

“If it is the season.” I reached for the magazine and went down to give it to him. 

“Anything more sensei?” 

“Let’s go out, I’ll pay for it. Nobody knows me, and nobody knows you. It’ll be fine.”

“No- no thank you sensei.” If there’s one thing that I avoid is tying my personal life to my job. Even if I like this man, I’ve been abstaining from reacting to any feelings I have for him. This is a bottled monster that if I let it out it would engulf me and I might not help myself but go with it. In the back of my head, I could already see him all over me. 

“Is it because of my wife?” I’ve heard he just married her that fall. And somehow this spring feels more like the fall to me. Despite having this gut-wrenching desire within me before they were together, I ignored it and didn’t make a move. This shit isn’t new to me. I’ve experienced this stuff. 

“No, it’s not.” 

“Then why not?”

“I don’t feel like going out.”

 “I’ll just order.” After a few calls the order came in and he placed it on the small table he pulled out just near the tables where we work. We sat on the floor pulling out the ordered food, katsudon, foreign food, and pasta and started eating. Like the gentlest brushstrokes, his lips met the food with reverence, savoring every nuance and subtlety. It was a dance of pleasure, a ballet of taste that stirred something deep within me. My mind was filled with images of him, his lips grazing my skin, his hands exploring every inch of my body. As I observed him, I couldn't help but be captivated by the way he engaged with his senses. His closed eyes, a canvas of vulnerability, hinted at a world beyond the mere act of eating. I struggled to maintain a semblance of composure, but my thoughts betrayed me, spiraling into a maelstrom of carnal imagery, of his lips, his hands, and his body entwined with mine.
"Maeri, your gaze, your devotion to my craft... It surpasses mere professionalism, does it not?"

My heart raced, my mind whirling with conflicting emotions. I wanted to give in to the longings that engulfed me, to surrender to the passion that jeopardized to consume me. But the rational part of me knew the outcomes, the risks involved in crossing that line.

I took a resounding breath, attempting to steady my voice. "Sensei, I… don’t understand what you’re talking about.” 

“You don’t have to be shy about it.”

“I don't desire you.” Takahashi Sensei's dark eyes bore into mine, his gaze filled with an intenseness that sent quivers down my spine. He leaned in closer, his voice a soft, husky whisper that looked like it was caressing my ears. "Maeri, I've noticed the way you glance at me. The craving in your eyes is evident."

I swallowed hard, attempting to maintain my composure. "Sensei, I assure you, it's just respect for your talent. Nothing more."

His lips curled into a vicious smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, Maeri, you can't trick me. I can smell the yearning within you, the appetite that fits my own." My heart thumped in my chest as his remarks swirled something deep within me. I had spent countless nights fantasizing roughly what it would be like to be in his arms, to taste his lips, to feel his touch. But I couldn't let those thoughts consume me. I couldn't gamble traversing that line.

“I don't know what you are talking about.”

He leaned back, his expression a mix of disappointment and understanding. "I respect your decision, Maeri. But know that the invitation will always be open. If ever you decide to explore those desires, I'll be waiting."

“Please close that offering. I do not need it. I'm an assistant you hired, not a person you paid to be your slut.” 

“That’s what I liked about you. You don't easily give in.” He chuckles. “I was just joking about it.”

“Not a great joke, teacher.” I ate up my food while still trying to control my annoyance. 

I may have started this narrative on the wrong side.