Cupid lit another cigarette before the attendants could stop him, and soon the room was filled with angry plumes of rose-scented smoke. They did their best to suppress their coughs, but when one leaked behind a trailing sleeve Cupid glared at the sound, and it was enough to send them out. Only a brave administrator remained, but that was because he didn’t have a choice. The papers in Cupid’s hands belonged to him. All he could do was wait for a verdict.

It wasn’t often that an audience was graced with Cupid’s attention, and it was even rarer that it was under such circumstances. The group had been called in to voice their grievances- a difficult task to comprehend, considering that Cupid was a prime example of perfect business. He wasn’t known to trifle with anything less.

The administrator had struggled with the idea of having to go to his boss for months, even years. His situation wasn’t a light one, and certainly he couldn’t bother someone who simply didn’t wish to be bothered. But when opportunity presented itself… he didn’t know what kind of mood Cupid had to be in to ask for the troubles of his people, but it would be a waste to not take this chance while it was there. The administrator had collected his papers, patiently waited in line, and when his number was finally called, he quickly shuffled his way to Cupid’s desk to listen to his verdict. His heart pounded, but he took it as excitement from being so close to someone as magnanimous as the god of love.

But the magnanimous god was silent. He had paused. His still figure- a tall, slender man with pale hair and soft features- was alarmingly beautiful, enough for the other attendants to lose their breath, but that didn’t help ease the anxiety in the room. With the others, he had just sifted through papers and announced orders and intentions. With these, he didn’t utter a single word. It made the administrator feel a bit better about his decision. If even a god had trouble with the situation, then this was a task worth bringing attention to.

The two shared the space silently, reflecting on their own thoughts. Certainly, this god would be as generous as he was with the others. Certainly, he’d provide the best solution. A calm broke the administrator’s anxiety for the first time in a long while.

Finally, Cupid muttered, “How many did they each go through?”

A question? This was unexpected. The administrator struggled for an answer.

“Hm?” Cupid urged.

“Well… I do not think anyone was keeping track, sire,” he finally responded, “It was already a task to find them matches, so—”

Cupid exhaled a large cloud of smoke, a sharp gesture that shut the administrator’s mouth. There was a blank silence that followed, and it took a moment for the god of love to finally pick the files up from his desk and pass them between his hands. Why he did this was a mystery- Cupid’s eyes couldn’t see, so what was the use of looking things over? The administrator wasn’t given the time to be confused about this, because somehow in that movement Cupid had found the answer he was looking for.

“Do you know why I’m upset, Kev?” Cupid finally asked, raising his head in the administrator’s direction, “That is your name, right? Kev?”

“Y-Yes, sire,” the administrator couldn’t hide his surprise at Cupid’s address, but then, “Wait- no, sire. I mean, that is my name, but I am not sure why you are upset, sire.”

A small smile graced Cupid’s lip. Kev faltered. He certainly didn’t look upset.

“I’m upset because this is a waste of time,” Cupid said shortly.

Ah. The smile on his face didn’t match the tone in his voice. It never really did. Cupid was too beautiful to let ugly emotions like anger show, and somehow that made his anger even more terrifying.

This was definitely unexpected.

“S-Sire?” Kev managed a response. His legs felt weak. He had the urge to run, but Cupid looked too inviting for him to move.

“This.” Cupid raised the files in his hand. “These two. Waste of time. Would you like me to explain or should I let you take another ten years to try and sort this mess out?” A sharp eyebrow raised, and Cupid’s smile split wider, almost mockingly, “Or is ten years not enough for you, Kev? That certainly seems to be the case. These two wouldn’t be on my desk if it wasn’t.”

The more Cupid talked, the more weight seemed to increase on Kev’s shoulders. The administrator trembled. His heart seemed to be tightening in a vice grip, and that was only because the more Cupid talked the sweeter his voice sounded. The contrast between the sound of his words and what they meant was too much for the poor servant to bear.

Cupid dropped a file onto the desk, and the smack of the heavy stack was enough for Kev to flinch. Cupid didn’t mind- he couldn’t see it, so he couldn’t care. He flipped the other one open, his eyes scanning invisible words, and then he drearily said, “Rose is tricky. She always has been, and nothing that I say will convince her otherwise. If she’s been so adamant on being single for the rest of her miserable life, then why is she in our system in the first place?”

Kev blanched. It was a good question, and somehow, he didn’t have an answer. The administrator gripped his hands in thought, wondering why the agency paid even a sliver of attention to someone who obviously didn’t need it. Cupid flipped through a few more pages in the file, combed a hand through his long platinum curls with a hint of frustration, and then suddenly he stopped. His clear eyes narrowed, as if he couldn’t believe what he wasn’t seeing, and then he spoke.

“Huh. My bad. Ignore what I just said,” he said, letting the file slip through his hand. It landed back on his desk in a neat stack. The administrator tightened his hands in confusion.

“Excuse me? Sire? What do you mean?”

“I don’t explain things. That wasn’t a difficult sentence, so comprehension shouldn’t be too problematic. Unless you’re stupid.” Cupid said conceitedly. Before Kev could process the insult, his boss had pushed the file- Rose’s file- to the side, as if for safekeeping, and moved on to the other one. He flipped the first cover over and immediately his face darkened. It was a look that didn’t fit his beauty, and Kev’s stomach dropped.

“Ah. This asshole,” Cupid cursed softly, “I remember. Ben. This guy must have given you a headache. Every time you’d pair him up with someone, he’d wiggle his way out of it by running to someone else. A pain in the ass. There’s really no point in your job as his matchmaking administrator if he does your job for you.”

Cupid didn’t bother to read the rest of this file. It was as if he already knew what was inside of it, and he couldn’t find the heart to mind. He dropped the file again, this time with more force and less care than the last, and the pages rumbled angrily in response. The god stared at it for a few moments, lost in thought, his gorgeous glare still simmering, and then he suddenly looked up at the administrator, who was having a terrible time trying to keep his wits together.

“Right. Waste of time. Would you like me to tell you why?” Cupid asked again.

Kev opened his mouth to speak but discovered that no words were able to come out. The mouth shut. He didn’t want to challenge the god’s sudden turn of mood, so it was better to be silent than a fool.

He had called Cupid magnanimous. Where did that word come from? It had no business here, not in his presence. All Kev could muster was a silent tremble in fear. This wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

Cupid seemed to sense the apprehension because he smiled, and the dark expression dissolved into a soft but stern one.

“You might not know,” Cupid continued, “but these two’s combined scores rack up to over three hundred casualties. Their Match Success Rate is zero percent. You know what that means? Every single person they’ve matched with was useless. You’re wasting my time because you’ve insisted on getting results out of them for much too long, and all that you’ve received is the most impressive example of failure my eyes have never witnessed. I’d like to congratulate you, but it might ruin what little backbone you have left.”

No, magnanimous didn’t exist in this room. Each word was a hot iron digging into his chest. Kev’s legs slipped underneath him, and the administrator found himself on his knees, his face hot, his eyes struggling to hold back tears. Where was the help he had come here for?

“Hm?” Cupid registered the movement, “What, do you have something to say?”

“S-Sire…” Kev managed to squeak out.

“Please speak. Waste more of my time. Apparently, I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Kev could only release a dry sob. Cupid leaned back in his leather chair and, noticing that his cigarette had long burned out, reached into his desk drawer to fetch another one. He was a patient man and didn’t mind waiting for the results he wanted. Kev’s reluctance to speak only made the silence more demanding, until finally the poor administrator couldn’t take the pressure and sobbed, “Sire, please-.”

“Please what?” Cupid flipped a heavy metal lighter between his fingers, his attention seemingly elsewhere.

“Sire, I am—” A hiccup, and then, “Sire, I am exhausted!”