After three months of overtime, I breathed a sigh of relief, only to see her frown as she received a message.

She turned around and went to find the Mediterranean.

Looking at the computer, I realized that the Mediterranean wanted to take the team's bonus, except for her, of course.

She argued logically.

I chuckled, saying she was too naive.

In fact, the reason the Mediterranean is doing this now is because the company offers promotion opportunities to the head office every year.

Recommended by the manager.

It's a hint.

They asked her to keep quiet, and then the promotion would be hers.

Moreover, she wouldn't lose anything, so why bother doing this for some strangers?

Based on her abilities, she should have gone long ago.

But she's been held back for three years.

Yet she just shook her head, the white light from the screen making her face pale, her gaze cold and clear: "I don't want to become that kind of person."

I paused for a moment, then smiled: "No one can choose what kind of person to become; we're all being manipulated."

"I can strive."

"What good is striving?"

"Have you even tried?"

...

"What do you mean?"

I frowned at her.

She looked at me calmly: "You always talk about wanting to be a photographer, but what have you done? Playing games here? Wasting time?"

"If you're truly capable, then go, do you lack money?"

"How many people envy your life, yet you choose to waste it... Of course, that's your personal choice, I have no right to interfere, so please don't interfere in my life either."

With that, she continued to focus on her computer work as if nothing had happened.

But my face was burning.

Because she was right, no one is "controlling" me.

It's my own fear of failure, fear that I lack the talent, that makes me pretend to be "controlled."

Right now, I really can't stand her.

But she's so beautiful, shining like a star.