Damar was at the front, delivering his presentation. His performance had been flawless so far—no mistakes at all, from his delivery to his appearance. His choice of words was so engaging that it was impossible to feel bored listening to him.
Wait a minute… What am I even doing? I'm not actually praising the most annoying guy on the planet, am I?
I held my breath when Damar's eyes seemed to land on me. Instantly, I averted my gaze and pretended to focus on my laptop screen. Not that there was anything left for me to do on it—all the data had already been displayed and explained by Damar. Right now, he was improvising, elaborating on the state of Niachemical's branch in Indonesia.
I couldn't help but imagine myself in his place. Could I have remained that composed? Over and over, I've told myself that I'm far better than Damar, but right now, I feel the exact opposite.
Ah, whatever! I don't want to dwell on heavy thoughts right now. Just focus on this event, and everything will be fine.
The sound of applause echoing through the room snapped me back to reality. Damar had finished his presentation and was now sitting beside me. I struggled to breathe, overwhelmed with envy at what he had just accomplished.
As a colleague, I should congratulate him. But my heart refused, leaving us in silence as we listened to presentations from other Niachemical branches.
In this situation, I feel more like Damar's assistant—someone who just prepares his materials, pulls up data on the laptop, and handles trivial tasks. That thought only makes me feel even more inferior.
So frustrating. Normally, I'm so confident in myself. But ever since realizing that Damar is dozens of times more self-assured than I am, I can't help but feel like a failure.
"You wanna stay here?" asked the guy beside me. I lifted my head and stared at him blankly. My eyes darted around, realizing the room was now empty.
"Oh… uh, no," I stammered, finally noticing it was break time.
"There's food provided by the committee, but I don't feel like eating there," Damar said as I followed him out of the room.
"So?" I asked, confused about what he wanted.
"There's a good restaurant near this building. I'm gonna eat there," he replied.
"I'll just eat here," I said. Why waste time looking for other food when it's already provided? Damar didn't respond as we passed the dining area where all the Annual Meeting participants were having lunch. The place was packed, with not enough seats for everyone—no wonder Damar didn't want to stay.
I glanced at Damar, half-hoping he'd invite me to join him. But even as we neared the elevator, he remained silent.
"I thought you were eating here?" he asked, puzzled that I had followed him all the way to the elevator.
"Changed my mind," I muttered awkwardly. Damar stayed quiet but let me follow him into the elevator. Wasn't I the one who said I was completely dependent on him here?
Damar must have been to this office several times before—he looked completely at ease, as if he knew every corner of the place. Though as far as I remember, Global Kimia had never sent him here before. Oh… right. I forgot he's the grandson of Global Kimia's owner. Maybe he'd already been here even before he started working at the company.
Damar stepped out of the Niachemical building, and I trailed behind him. I had no idea where he was taking me, but I was determined to follow him no matter what.
The walk to the restaurant turned out to be much longer than I expected. My legs grew heavy, but I refused to complain. I didn't want Damar to know how exhausted I was just from walking a few hundred meters. The hot afternoon wind made my collar feel suffocating, but I ignored it. I didn't even dare loosen my tie like I usually would when I'm overheating.
Midway, Damar suddenly turned into a shaded alley. I sighed in relief, grateful to escape the scorching sun—but only for a moment. The alley turned out to be a shortcut to a busier main road, where the blaring of car horns and the relentless heat welcomed us back mercilessly.
"You don't even wanna know what we're eating?" he asked, stopping abruptly and turning to me.
"Huh?" I blinked, caught off guard.
"Whatever," I muttered.
Damar quickened his pace, probably trying to escape the blazing sun. I took a deep breath and forced myself to keep up.
By the time Damar finally stopped, my breathing was ragged. This guy must be doing it on purpose, knowing full well I couldn't match his stride.
"How about here?" he asked.
Weird. Why even ask me when I already said "whatever"? Still, I nodded.
My eyes scanned the unfamiliar place without blinking. The restaurant was spacious with a strong oriental vibe. Since it was lunch hour, the place was crowded, yet it still felt comfortable thanks to its size.
My forehead was sweaty, and my clothes felt damp by the time Damar found us a seat. For a second, I regretted not just staying at the office. Sure, it was packed, but at least I wouldn't have had to suffer under the sun.
"I don't know what to order," I said before Damar could ask. Between my heavy breathing and the heat, I didn't even want to think.
Damar called the waiter and ordered for both of us. I didn't care what he picked—he wouldn't order something terrible, right?
"Do you think we're hosting a king or something?" I muttered under my breath as I watched the pile of dishes grow taller on the table. Damar just shrugged, still busy arranging a bowl of steaming soup in what he deemed the perfect spot. I wanted to be angry, but the delicious aroma in the air dissolved my irritation into hunger.
Once my breathing steadied, my gaze landed on the guy sitting across from me. How was he still so composed? Not a single drop of sweat on his forehead despite the long walk under the sun. His hair was perfectly in place, his clothes immaculate, his tie neatly knotted. I grimaced, suddenly hyper-aware of my own disheveled state.
"I'll be right back," I said quickly, heading to the restroom. I needed to fix myself before I looked any more ridiculous.
The restaurant's restroom was far more luxurious than I expected. Polished marble walls, uniquely shaped sinks with antique faucets, and the scent of high-end perfume greeted me. For a moment, I forgot about my messy appearance and just marveled at the opulence. But the image of Damar's flawless face snapped me back to reality.
Just as I suspected, the reflection in the mirror looked terrible—oily skin, tousled hair. I sighed in frustration and grabbed some blotting papers to fix my face. So annoying. Even in terms of appearance, Damar was miles ahead of me.
Once I was sure I looked presentable again, I headed back.
Oh my God. I forgot that the guy I was with had a habit of ordering absurd amounts of food. The table was now covered with dishes—so many that they barely fit.
"Why did you order so much?" I asked, panicked. I should've warned Damar not to repeat his usual antics. There was no way the two of us could finish all this.
"So you have options," he replied casually.
"But not this many!" I snapped.
"It's fine. Tomorrow we can order less," he said, as if this was completely normal.
I grumbled under my breath and started picking what to eat first. Everything looked delicious—I didn't even know where to begin.
I ate quietly, thoroughly enjoying the food Damar had chosen. Out of curiosity, I ended up trying everything on the table. The flavors weren't too far from Indonesian cuisine, perfectly suited to my palate.
The clinking of cutlery and the hum of conversation around us faded into the background as I studied Damar's face—the way his dark lashes cast faint shadows under his eyes, the slight curve of his lips as he chewed thoughtfully. There was an unfamiliar softness in his expression, something unguarded that made my chest tighten. For the first time, he didn't look like the infuriating rival I'd built up in my head, but just… a guy enjoying a meal. The realization unsettled me more than I cared to admit.
"Good, right?" Damar's voice made me pause mid-bite. I must've been eating too enthusiastically—he hadn't even started yet.
I smiled and nodded. I had promised myself three days of compromise—no arguments, no venomous words.
Damar's smile suddenly felt different. So unfamiliar, so unlike the usual smirk I was used to. It made me wonder—had I misjudged him all this time? Or was this all just an act to catch me off guard? My hand froze mid-scoop, my appetite vanishing as these thoughts flooded my mind.
"So good," I replied, prompting another smile from Damar. For a second, I shivered at the sight. That radiant expression was something I'd never seen before. Damar rarely smiled, but when he did, it felt… unsettling. (*)