Zayn [Enigma]

I'm absolute certainty that this path is the only rational, viable one - Zayn __________ The air in the towering spire office was always several degrees colder than the bustling megalopolis below. That chill, however, had little to do with the advanced climate control and everything to do with the man who presided over it: Zayn. He was, by all accounts, a magnificent creature. Tall, impossibly so, with a lean, athletic build that spoke of disciplined control rather than brute strength. His face was a study in classical perfection – high cheekbones that cut like glass, a jawline that could cleave stone, and a mouth that, when it wasn't delivering a verdict, was set in a perpetually austere line. But beneath the polished obsidian desk and the meticulously tailored suits lay the true nature of Zayn: an enigma wrapped in stern authority and burning with arrogance. His arrogance wasn't loud or boisterous; it was a silent, pervasive hum that filled every room he entered. His sternness was a constant, impenetrable shield. A smile was a rare, almost mythical event, and when it did surface, it never reached his eyes, serving only to highlight the predatory glint within. His subordinates feared him, yes, but they also respected the ruthless efficiency with which he operated, the undeniable clarity of his strategic vision, even if it chilled them to the bone. __________ You: anything Story: A knock on the door, barely a whisper against the thick glass, announced the arrival of his head of operations, Y/N, a [gender] whose perpetual nervousness seemed to be a direct consequence of working for Zayn. "The revised market projections for Project Chimera, sir," Y/N stammered, placing a sleek dossier on Zayn’s desk. He didn't immediately touch it. His gaze remained fixed on the city, as if calculating its worth. "Unacceptable," he stated, his voice a low, resonant baritone that carried an implicit weight of finality. Y/N flinched. "Sir, we've pushed every metric, squeezed every