I hadn't expected Bruce to come and bring me medicine so late at night.
For a moment, I felt both bewildered and guilty. But then, considering our meager relationship, it wouldn't make sense for Bruce to go through all this trouble just for me. So, I guessed that it might be related to the couple's chat.
As I looked at the code I'd been happily working on, an inexplicable feeling of annoyance suddenly washed over me.
I softly thanked Bruce for the medicine—deliberately avoiding the matter—and politely said, "I'm not done with my code yet, so I won't be sending you off, Mr. Harold."
Basically, I was chasing him out.
Bruce was taken aback.
He stood rooted in his spot as his gaze swept over my mittens. He shot me a puzzled look. "Didn't you turn the heater on?"
The heater? Did he think this was Roeval Group?
In old office buildings like ours, having air conditioning was miraculous enough, let alone a heater.
I forced a smile. "I'm not cold."
However, Bruce didn't respond to me. Instead, he unexpectedly picked up a nearby office chair and sat down.
I guessed that he wouldn't leave until I showed him a satisfying product. So, I switched to the couple's chat and asked, "What other changes do you wish to make, Mr. Harold?"
Bruce slid the office chair closer to me and glanced at my work. "The saturation isn't enough."
What a familiar line.
Unsurprised, I swiftly answered, "Give me ten minutes."
Bruce hummed and shifted his gaze to the bookshelf nearby. Then, at the next moment, his well-defined fingers landed on one of the books.
I heard him ask, "When did you become interested in detective novels?"
I glanced over and realized that Bruce was holding the detective novel that Douglas had given me.
I'd flipped through it a few times when things had gotten rough, but I didn't know how Bruce came to the conclusion that I'd become a fan of detective novels.
I evaded the question. "The story is good, and the plot is interesting.”
"Oh," Bruce hummed.
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