Chapter 3

With only an hour left before the interview, there was no way I could buy a new one.

'Am I just going to throw in the towel like this?' I sat down on the floor, feeling defeated as tears pooled in my eyes.

Just then, I heard the low hum of the washing machine starting up from the bathroom.

I froze in surprise. I rushed over, and there it was—my coffee-stained shirt tumbling around inside the machine.

Twenty minutes later, the washing machine came to a stop. The drying function kicked in.

Another twenty minutes passed, and there it was—a spotless, warm shirt hanging on my door, smelling like it just came out of the laundry, as if it had magically appeared.

I just stood there staring at the shirt, barely believing my eyes. 'Is this real, or am I dreaming?'

I threw it on, grabbed my things, and rushed out the door.

The subway station was packed shoulder to shoulder with commuters during the morning rush hour. Time was slipping away, and I started sweating nervously, feeling like I was about to lose it.

Just as I was about to give up and try my luck with the bus, the turnstile right in front of me suddenly gave a loud beep, the green light flashed, and the gate swung open all by itself.

I stood there stunned for a moment, but before I could even process what happened, I shot through the gate.

I dashed onto the platform, only to see the train doors slowly closing. 'Damn!'

But right at the last second, the doors jammed with a loud, ear-splitting beep and sprang back open—like luck was suddenly on my side.

I nearly tumbled in, scrambling and stumbling my way onto the train.

Once I was on the train, I was gasping for air, my heart pounding like crazy. 'Seriously, what are the odds of all this happening? It's like someone's out there making sure everything goes my way.'

I arrived at the company with just five minutes to spare before the interview started.

Sitting in the conference room, every second waiting for the interviewers felt agonizing—as if time had slowed to a crawl.

Then it was finally my turn. I took a deep breath and stepped inside—the four interviewers were lined up, looking all business and stone-faced.

My palms were slick with sweat, and just as I was about to introduce myself, my brain just wiped itself blank.

My brain totally froze up.

Just as I was dying of embarrassment and wishing the ground would swallow me whole, a black pen suddenly spun across the table and came to a halt right next to my hand.

Almost without thinking, my hand grabbed it instinctively. The cold feel of the pen helped steady my racing nerves.

Looking down, I noticed someone had used a knife to carefully carve a tiny, but perfectly clear word on the side of the pen. 'Calm down,' it said.

Just like that, I felt a wave of calm wash over me.

That single word, 'calm down,' hit me like a shot of adrenaline, giving me the strength I needed.

I looked up, met the lead interviewer's gaze, and flashed a confident smile. "Good afternoon, everyone. I'm Maxine Clarke..."

I totally crushed that interview—I've never done better in my life.

A week later, I landed the job offer I'd worked so hard for.

On my first day at work, as soon as I got my paycheck, I rushed straight to the supermarket and picked out a nice bottle of wine and loads of fresh ingredients.

When I got home, I whipped up a huge spread.

I filled up two glasses with wine, lifted one high, and called out to the empty living room, "Hadden, this one's for you! Thanks for being my gold-medal support!"

As if by magic, the other glass shimmered lightly and let out a crisp clink, almost like it was answering me.

I grinned, tears welling up in my eyes. I knew I wasn't alone. I had a secret protector always looking out for me.

After landing my new job, my "roommate life" with Hadden hit an all-time high in harmony.

I handled the money-making grind, while he—not just looking good—kept our home running like clockwork. With his genius-level logic, he managed my budget, kept my spending in check, and made sure my bills were always on point.

Honestly, I was starting to love this one-of-a-kind partnership.

Every day when I came home from work, there'd be a fresh, hot meal waiting for me. Paydays meant my self-appointed "finance director" had my budget all planned out. And whenever I ran into trouble at my job, I'd find just the right books and documents mysteriously laid out on my desk—as if they'd appeared by magic.

He was like a silent mentor, a genius house manager, and... the most familiar mystery in my world.

I knew absolutely nothing about his past.

The more seamlessly we worked together, the more I found myself wanting to uncover his story. 'How did Hadden really die?'

The online report was annoyingly vague, just saying he'd died from "accidental gas poisoning."

But something about it just didn't sit right with me. 'This was a guy who had to arrange his books by color and height, who took rules and order to almost surreal extremes—how could someone like that ever make such a careless mistake as forgetting to turn off the gas?'

I tried asking him. "Hadden, how did you die?"