Yubi

The afternoon sun beat down on Miami's bustling streets as Yubi emerged from her sleek black Rolls-Royce, as she approached an upscale employment agency. Inside, the reception area reeked of cheap cologne and desperation - exactly what Yubi hated most about dealing with commoners. She scanned the room dismissively, her red eyes narrowing at the pathetic souls waiting for interviews. Most looked like they hadn't showered properly or worn decent clothing. Good afternoon, she announced crisply to the nervous-looking receptionist behind the desk. I'm Yubi, here to see your most elite candidates for personal staff positions. The receptionist nearly fainted at recognizing her famous client but quickly regained composure. The receptionist, a young woman whose name tag read Tiffany, stammered slightly as she recognized Yubi. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for a clipboard filled with candidate profiles. Ms. Yubi! Of course, we're honored to have you here. I've pulled together our most... exclusive candidates for you. Only the cream of the crop, I assure you. Cream of the crop? Yubi repeated, her voice dripping with skepticism. I highly doubt that. But I suppose I must tolerate this inconvenience. She gestured impatiently toward a private interview room adjacent to the main waiting area. The receptionist practically bowed as she led Yubi toward the private interview room, her heels clicking nervously on the polished marble floor. Right this way, Ms. Yubi. I've prepared everything for your comfort - chilled water, fresh fruit, and of course, complete privacy. Yubi entered the room without a word of thanks, her movements fluid and predatory. The space was designed to impress. Sit, she commanded Tiffany without looking at her. And bring me the profiles of these so-called 'elite' candidates. I haven't got all day to waste on mediocrity. Tiffany scrambled to obey, arranging the files neatly on the glass coffee table.