The Devil's Favourite Obsession

She burst onto the sweltering summer asphalt, her eyes darting through the sea of people in a frantic search.

By the time she reached the curb, Mark was already opening the driver’s side door of a glossy black SUV parked in the loading zone. He slipped inside, and the heavily tinted windows concealed him from view in an instant.

”Wait!” Cixi yelled, but her voice was swallowed by the roar of city traffic.

The SUV peeled away from the curb, merging aggressively into the busy street.

Not wanting to miss her chance to find Mark, she dug her phone out of her apron pocket with urgent hands, raised it, and snapped three photos of the retreating vehicle, making sure to capture the licence plate clearly in each frame.

She lowered the phone, her eyes following the black SUV until it disappeared from sight.

”Cixi!” The sharp, nasal bark of her name snapped her back to reality.

Cixi turned to see Amanda, the café manager, standing in the open doorway of Warm Land. Her hands were planted on her hips, and her expression was lethal.

Cixi hurried back inside, her heart still hammering violently against her ribs. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Amanda jerked her head sharply towards the swinging kitchen doors.

”Shit,” Cixi muttered under her breath and followed the manager.

Cixi stood in the cramped space near the industrial sinks, keeping her head slightly bowed in submission.

Amanda was a woman in her late thirties who coated her deep insecurities in thick layers of expensive foundation and overpowering perfume.

She harboured a notorious jealousy towards any female staff member who happened to be younger or prettier than she was.

Cixi’s decision to wear baggy, shapeless clothes and hide her golden hair beneath silk scarves was partly to avoid people capable of turning into stalkers or human traffickers, but also to avoid becoming Amanda’s primary target.

”Explain,” Amanda ordered, tapping a sharp, manicured acrylic nail against a steel prep table. ”Explain why you just slammed a tray of dirty dishes onto a table and ran out the door like a rabid animal in front of my paying customers.”

Cixi kept her eyes glued to the white floor tiles. ”I-I thought I saw someone I knew. Someone I haven’t seen in a very long time. So I ran out without thinking... I am truly sorry.” Her voice dropped to a low, apologetic murmur.

Amanda let out a loud, theatrical sigh, lifting her hand to inspect her acrylics as though Cixi’s very existence exhausted her.

”I have heard the phrase time and time again,” Amanda began, her tone dripping with condescension. ”Beautiful women usually don’t have brains, especially young ones. You, Cixi, are the walking definition of that phrase.”

Cixi gave a brief glance upward, meeting her eyes for half a second before immediately lowering her chin again.

Every time Amanda reprimanded someone, even for a minor mistake, it turned into a lengthy lecture about how they needed to learn from her.

”You need to learn something from me,” Amanda continued, pacing slowly in front of the sinks. ”Do you see me running out of the shop like a lunatic every time I see an old acquaintance? No, because I possess decorum. When I was your age, I was already managing three different boutiques my family owned. I was actually scouted by top-tier modelling agencies in the city, but I turned them down because I knew my intellect was my greatest asset.”

Cixi stared at a dropped spoon near her feet, completely zoning out.

”Success requires discipline, Cixi,” Amanda preached, then paused to check her reflection in the polished steel of the industrial refrigerator, carefully adjusting a stray strand of hair. ”Discipline in how you look, how you speak, and how you carry yourself. You let your messy, pathetic emotions control you. I control my emotions. That is why I am the manager of this prestigious establishment, and that is why you are bussing tables and throwing ceramic mugs at innocent diners.”

Amanda turned back to her, her lips pulled into a tight, smug line. She thrived on the subjugation of the girls who worked under her. ”Are you understanding the lesson here, Cixi?”

”Yes, Amanda,” Cixi replied obediently, her tone carefully flattened to hide her racing thoughts. ”I need more decorum and to learn from you.”

”Exactly. Now get back out there, and if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will give you a double shift. Do you understand me?”

”Yes, Amanda. Thank you for teaching me a valuable lesson.”

This was the final sentence every employee uttered after enduring one of Amanda’s lessons.

For the rest of the shift, Amanda’s hawkish gaze remained locked on Cixi, waiting for the slightest slip-up. Lily, on the other hand, spent the afternoon thoroughly enjoying Cixi treading on thin ice.

If Amanda caught anyone stepping out of line, that person immediately became the sole target of her relentless scrutiny. They were followed. Watched. Criticized. That was why every employee at ’Warm Land’ fought to make as few mistakes as humanly possible, except for the two head cooks, whom Amanda actively feared.

By five o’clock, the suffocating shift finally ended.

Cixi and Lily pushed through the cafe’s back doors, stepping out into the cooling evening air.

”So, are you up for clubbing tonight?” Lily asked immediately, linking her arm through Cixi’s as they walked down the sidewalk.

But Lily wasn’t taking no for an answer today. ”Listen, my other friend just went through a horrific breakup. She almost killed herself over that cheating bastard. I want to cheer her up. I want to show her that there are plenty of other bikes on the market—why cry over one unfaithful one when you have a whole showroom available?”

Lily stopped on the sidewalk, forcing Cixi to halt beside her. ”I want you to meet her. I want you to show her how happily you are living your single boring life.” Lily poked out her bottom lip, widening her eyes into a pitiful, pleading puppy-dog expression.