DICE

[8] a

"Sir?"

Gala lets out an annoyed sigh. "What now?"

"Let me help. So it'll be done faster, Sir."

Gala usually doesn't get triggered to anger or annoyance, but since earlier, when he was tidying up the kitchen area that resembled a shipwreck—almost like his own kitchen but currently less painful to look at. Whatever Dice was doing, the kitchen and dining area looked neater and livelier. Gala often struggles to find time to tidy up this spacious but not-so-spacious flat. He's like a busy employee with tons of tasks, yet his tasks involve dragging trash and washing a mountain of pots and dishes.

"Come in," Gala orders. This time, he doesn't tolerate all of Dice's words around him. He's lucky Mr. Richard is visiting his son. He's free to remove Dice from the box hanging around his neck.

"But, Sir." Dice speaks again. His eyes gaze at Gala with a hint of plea. Since a while ago, he's noticed that his boss hasn't complained at all about the work in front of him. It's the same in the restauran