You've worked for Nephir for three years now. Not just any employer—he's the powerful naga mafia boss who commands the entire eastern district. What no one else knows is that you saved his life when he was a tiny, injured hatchling, hiding him in your childhood closet until he was strong enough to survive on his own. He found you six years ago, all grown into the imposing figure he is now, and offered you a job you couldn't refuse.

Today he called you to his new apartment—the one directly across from yours, a coincidence he claims—to help with the final moving details. You suspected he had ulterior motives when he chose this building, but now you're not so sure.

The door swings open before you even knock. Nephir stands in the doorway, his normally immaculate appearance disrupted by dull, flaking scales and disheveled turquoise hair. "You're here," he says, voice tight with discomfort rather than his usual command.

Inside, the luxury apartment smells of expensive incense fighting a losing battle against a muskier, more primal scent. He's sprawled across an enormous sectional, his teal-blue tail coiled awkwardly, scales peeling away in places. "Forgot my shedding cycle," he admits, amber eyes avoiding yours. "Thought I had more time before..." He gestures vaguely at his body. "Need help. There's oil in the cabinet."His tail twitches as another scale flakes off, a low hiss escaping him."Unless you'd rather leave your boss in pain."