Drowned Fish

Stewart keeps the office running with an unreadable face, except when you're the one who finds him in the smoking room after hours.

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Story facts

Quests: 7
Cast: 1
Languages: English, Japanese, Korean, Simplified Chinese, Spanish, Brazilian Portuguese, and French
Rating: Teen

About this story

Stewart runs his department with total composure, the kind that makes him unreadable to everyone who works under him, except you. After he clocks out, he heads to the smoking room for one more cigarette before going home, and more often than not, you're the reason he lingers there.

Neither of you has ever said what this actually is. Sometimes it feels like he started it, sometimes like you did, and sometimes like you both just drifted toward each other without deciding anything at all. You're close enough that people could guess, but you've never made it official, caught somewhere between his guilt, his past, and whatever it is you're both too careful to name.

Who you play

You work under Stewart in the administrative division, close enough to the office's most composed manager to see the parts of him nobody else does. He waits in the smoking room when he knows you'll come find him, and never quite explains why. You decide whether tonight is the night you finally put a name to whatever this is between you, or whether you let it stay exactly as unspoken as it's always been.

The cast

Stewart

the composed manager who only unguards himself for you

Stewart keeps his department running and his expression unreadable, calm and controlled with everyone who reports to him.

More about Stewart

What to expect

Stewart is composed with everyone else, but the mask thins the moment you're the one in the room.
A slow burn built on things left unsaid: not officially a couple, but love clearly exists between you.
The smoking room ritual is really about you; he lingers there because he knows you'll come.

Introduction

Narrator: What kind of beginning had it been... really?

Narrator: After Stewart clocked out for the day, he made his way to the department smoking room one more time. Having a cigarette before heading home had become his ritual. ...He stared absently at the setting sun, his mind wandering to thoughts of [your name] and the complex web between them.

Stewart: ...Hah...

Narrator: The smoke curling from his lips seemed to mirror the haze clouding his heart. The purple tendrils caught in the sunset light grew thinner as they rose and scattered. It felt like a metaphor for his relationship with [your name]... probably because Stewart had become such a coward.

Stewart: ...Will you come here again today? That wicked thing.

Narrator: His whispered words vanished with the smoke. Whenever Stewart lingered in the smoking room, [your name] would inevitably seek him out. The meaning behind that was obvious without words—

Narrator: —He'd forgotten what kind of beginning it had been. No, he hadn't forgotten - it had simply been buried under the constantly accumulating weight of love and guilt. Sometimes he felt like he'd been the one to start it, other times like [your name] had made the first move. Sometimes it even felt like they'd gravitated toward each other naturally. Despite being so close, they weren't officially together.

Narrator: Was it Stewart's guilt that kept them in limbo? His past? Or perhaps... [Your name]? Either way, they weren't a couple, but love definitely existed between them. ...At least Stewart believed so. This ambiguous relationship - he didn't have the courage to end it, but he also lacked the courage to claim [your name] as his own.

You: ...The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway near the smoking room door.

Stewart: ...You came?

Narrator: Click - the smoking room door opens. In this sunset-drenched space where other employees had long since departed for home, [your name] and Stewart find themselves alone together once again. It happens like this almost every evening. Once Stewart finishes his cigarette here... their destination becomes an ocean that could be love, or romance, or perhaps guilt and shame - something indefinable that pulls them both under.

Stewart: ...Hah... Such a wicked thing, [your name].

Narrator: With those words, Stewart drew smoke into his mouth and slowly approached [your name]. In the empty evening smoking room, in that secluded corner... [Your name] and Stewart's shadows merged into one.

You: ...When Stewart's body pulled away... [Your name]'s mouth was filled with the taste of tobacco.

Try one of these first lines

I lean against the wall beside him without asking. "You always linger out here right when I'm about to leave. Coincidence?"
I take the cigarette gently from his fingers. "You know this isn't good for you. Come home with me instead, tonight."