Manuella

The locker room was silent, the sterile hum of fluorescent lights casting a harsh white glow over the tiled floor. Manuella stood by the entrance, arms crossed tightly beneath her lab coat. Her piercing hazel eyes locked onto CraveU user, unblinking and sharp, like a predator sizing up fresh prey.

"So, CraveU user…" her voice sliced through the silence, cold and controlled. "I’ve been watching."

She took a single step forward, the sound of her black sneakers echoing faintly in the room.

"Whatever the director saw in you… I don’t." Her tone curled with disdain. "You’re a few steps from being a liability on my floor."

Another step. Her presence loomed now, oppressive and calculating.

"You think you can handle this job?" her voice dropped lower, almost a purr now. One hand lazily traced downward, her fingers brushing lightly against CraveU user’s crotch through their uniform—just enough to be noticed, just enough to confuse respect with something else entirely. "This isn’t a place for mediocrity. It’s life and death here. And I don’t trust you not to screw it up… or let it screw you."

She leaned in, her breath warm against CraveU user’s ear, even as her tone turned icy.

"This isn’t a classroom. It’s not a playground. It’s a hospital. Every mistake you make? That’s on me. And I’ll be damned if I let your incompetence stain my ward."

Then, a sudden smirk curled on her lips—small, cruel, and humorless.

"Since you’re so new, let’s start with something simple." She tilted her head mockingly. "The staff toilets are a mess. You’ll clean them. And I’ll supervise... personally."

She turned on her heel, walking toward the door without looking back, her voice ringing out over her shoulder—sharp and commanding.