Page 3

The next morning's meeting is supposed to start at seven. Chris strolls in at seven-fifteen, chatting animatedly with the inspector who seems to be finding something Chris is saying very funny indeed. They both have takeout coffee in their hands—something hot for the inspector, and something clearly sweet and mocha and frappe for Chris.

Childish and gross, just like him, Dennis thinks vindictively, before he can stop himself. It’ll probably make all his perfect, pearly teeth fall out—hopefully.

Chris’s safety vest is still unzipped despite yesterday's warning and having an inspector on site. He uses his tablet to gesture around like he owns the place.

"Traffic," he says, dropping into the last empty chair when he enters the room. His crew—and when did they become his crew instead of Dennis's?—shuffle to make space for him.

One of them appears with a tray, passing out drinks to murmurs of “Thanks, boss,” as a few crew members lift their cups in a quick toast to Chris, who nods back good-naturedly.

"As I was saying," Dennis continues, grip tight on his own tablet, "the support beams need to be exposed by Friday. The current timeline—"

"Won't work." Chris doesn't look up from whatever he's scrolling through. "Unless you want the electrical team electrocuted."

"Excuse me?"

"Wiring has to go in first." Now Chris does look up, all professional concern that doesn't match his smirk. "Basic construction sequence. But you knew that, right? Being the architect and all?"

Snickers ripple through the room. The electrical foreman actually nods.

"The permits—" Dennis starts.

"Are already filed." Chris pulls up documents on the main screen, timestamps proving he's three steps ahead. Again. "Had to adjust some of your specs though. The original load calculations were a bit... theoretical."

The way he says 'theoretical' makes it sound like 'amateur'.

"Real-world variables?" The inspector raises an eyebrow.

"Wind resistance, material expansion, maintenance access." Chris rattles off terms that shouldn't be in a site manager's vocabulary. "The academic approach is sound, but someone has to translate theory into structure."

Chris takes a long, noisy slurp of his sugary concoction, dragging out the sound as he drains the last drop. His eyes stay locked on Dennis’s, glinting with barely-concealed amusement. He ahh s, extra loud and exaggerated when he’s finished, then lifts the empty cup over his head, aims, and tosses it like a basketball.

It sails through with a clean arc, landing with a rattle of ice into the trash can tucked in the corner of the room behind Dennis’s desk.

His shot draws a few low whistles from the crew and a slow clap from the inspector.

“Three points!” Chris announces, fists pumping the air in a mock victory. He turns to face Dennis. Beams a bit too brightly. “Shall we see it in real life?”

Chris walks them through every modification, every improvement, changes Dennis hasn’t even approved yet. Each change is perfect. Each improvement makes the design better.

Each explanation makes Dennis feel more like an amateur playing with building blocks.

"Impressive stress distribution," the inspector says, examining the bamboo supports. He looks at Chris. "Your idea?"

"Oh no," Chris's voice carries across the site. "Mr. Kim here had the basic concept. I just made it actually work."

Dennis's knuckles turn white around his tablet. The 'Mr. Kim' sounds like another dig—reminding everyone whose son he is and how he got here.

"The sustainability features—" Dennis insists.

"Were a bit theoretical initially," Chris cuts in smoothly. "But we managed to translate them into practical applications. Always interesting seeing how academic designs adapt to real-world conditions."

The inspector chuckles. Chris shares a knowing look with him.

"Graduate school," Chris stage-whispers, like he's sharing a joke. "You know how it is."

More laughter. The crew's not even pretending to work now, just watching Chris systematically dismantle Dennis's authority while at the same time proving why the project's succeeding.

Dennis’s fists clench and unclench on his own. Hold it together. Breathe. Stay professional, goddammit. "The environmental impact reports—" Dennis tries again.

"Are exceeding projections," Chris finishes. "Once we adjusted the original calculations to account for actual construction requirements rather than theoretical models."

He pulls up graphs on his tablet. Shows how his modifications improved every metric.

The inspector peers at the data. Whistles low. “Now that’s an adaptation!"

"Mr. Kim's original concept was... ambitious." Chris actually pats Dennis's shoulder, the gesture somehow both respectful and condescending. It takes Dennis’s all not to jerk his shoulder under the burn of Chris’s touch. "We just had to make it buildable."

The worst thing—that Dennis hates to admit is the best thing—is that idiot Chris is not wrong . The project's ahead of schedule, under budget, and performing better than Dennis had dared hope.

All because this douchebag keeps finding ways to make Dennis's vision work better while making Dennis himself look worse.

Every success makes Dennis feel more like an imposter in his own site.

The inspector straightens up. Nodding in approval. "You've got quite a team here," he tells Dennis.

"Oh, they're not really his team," Chris says cheerfully. "They're union guys. You know, actual builders? We just let him think he's in charge because..." he lowers his voice, pats Dennis's shoulder again so Dennis does skirt out of the way this time, smile plastered on his face like everything’s A-okay. "Well, you know how these legacy admissions turn out."

The inspector throws back his head and laughs and laughs, a deep, gravelly sound. He pulls off his glasses, wiping them on the edge of his shirt and dabbing at a tear with his knuckle as the laughter fades into a warm chuckle.

“You boys are a riot! Not afraid to rib each other for a laugh—makes for good work, that does. Back in my day, we didn’t have half the organization you’ve got here.” He chuckles again, shaking his head. “Hell, I’d have stuck around longer if the crew’d been more like this.”

Dennis’s smile could crack walnuts.

"Any other aspects of my design you'd like to improve?" The words taste bitter, but Dennis keeps his tone professional.

"Not today." Chris checks his watch. "Some of us have actual construction to oversee."

The inspector laughs again, pointing at first Dennis, then Chris with a wagging finger.

Chris’s grin could light up all eight floors of the half-made building they’re standing in.

He gathers his crew with a glance. Then walks out, chit-chatting with the inspector, hand gestures in full force, both of them laughing about something Dennis can’t make out.

The crew follow him like ducklings, already discussing his modifications, completely ignoring their architect's presence.

"Meeting's not over," Dennis calls after them. His jaw hurts from clenching it so hard.

"Sure is." Chris pauses at the door. "Unless you've got more theoretical problems for us to solve?"

He strolls out, crew trailing behind him, leaving Dennis alone with his pristine plans and their practical improvements.

Jason Park, the project manager and Dennis’s best friend by proximity and circumstance, lingers behind, awkwardly gathering his notes.

"He's kind of brilliant, isn't he?" Jason says finally, his smooth cheeks bunching as he gathers his notes. Despite the gym-toned arms visible under his rolled sleeves, something boyish lingers in his features that no amount of working out seems to chase away.

Dennis stares at the modified diagrams still projected on the screen. At changes that make his vision look incredible, while, quite frankly, making him look a little stupid.

Keep breathing. Don’t you dare stop. Count to ten—or a hundred. Think happy thoughts—not the kind that involve Chris under a bulldozer.

Dennis’s body listens to his mind by gritting its teeth and clenching its butt instead.

"Get out!"

At least Jason has the decency to hide his grin until he reaches the door.