Page 10 of Marrying My Orc Boss

She could be a thief, for all I know, and he could be club security. Though I don’t know why security would dress as ridiculously as that.

As time passes by, I find myself unable to tear my eyes away from the woman as she disappears and reappears. I watch as she moves about the golf course, her petite frame easy to spot even from a distance.

Every once in a while, I catch sight of the man following her. He's always a few paces behind, never close enough to make it obvious, but close enough that I can see him.

My frown deepens as I watch the scene unfold from afar. A protective instinct I didn't know I had clashes with the need for decorum. I'm not sure if it's my place to intervene, but I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

As the afternoon wears on, I find myself growing more and more tense. Every time the woman disappears, I hold my breath, waiting for her to reappear. And every time the man in black comes into view, my hackles rise.

I tell myself that it's none of my business and that I should just focus on my game. But I just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something particular about her…

While I'm walking off the green, another golfer makes a comment that sends a chill down my spine. "I've never seen an orc play golf before," he says, his tone laced with skepticism. "I hope you don’t take a divot out of the green and ruin our game."

I grit my teeth, trying to keep my anger in check. I know that they're not being outright racist, but their words still sting. It's a subtle jab, but one that's all too familiar.

A retort rises in my throat like bile, but I swallow it down, forcing a tight smile on my face instead. I can feel the injustice of their words simmering in my chest, threatening to boil over.

I take a deep breath, trying to push down the anger that's building inside me. I know that lashing out won't do any good. It will only confirm their biases and give them more ammunition to use against me.

I take one last deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. I step up to the tee, my grip on the golf club steady and sure. As I swing, I feel a surge of power coursing through me, the strength of my ancestors fueling my every move.

I watch as the ball sails through the air, landing on the green with a satisfying thud.

Despite my excellent play on the golf course, my mood continues to sour. The humans mutter amongst themselves, humbled by my skills yet refusing to give me credit

"I can't believe an orc can play golf like that," one of them says, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I know, right? You'd think they'd be too busy smashing things with their clubs," another one replies, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Do they even understand that they're simply repeating the stereotypes that have been perpetuated for centuries? I doubt they’ve ever truly known an orc for themselves.

"Maybe we should have him play with us next time," a third one chimes in, a note of admiration in his voice.

"Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen," the first one scoffs, rolling his eyes.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I know that I can't let their words get to me. I have to keep pushing forward, to keep fighting for what's right.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," I say, interrupting their conversation. "I hope you enjoyed the game. It was a pleasure sharing the green with you."

They murmur their goodbyes, their eyes still wide with surprise. And as I walk away, I can't help but feel a sense of sadness. Despite my skills, despite my success, I'll always be seen as an orc first and foremost.

As I walk off the green, I can't help but feel the weight of the battle I face, not just for my company but for recognition beyond the orcish stereotype. I've worked hard to build a successful business and to prove that I'm more than just a brute with a club. But it seems that no matter how many deals I close, no matter how many accolades I receive, I'll always be seen as an orc first and a businessman second.

“As if it can only be one or the other,” I mutter bitterly to myself.

It's a constant uphill battle, one that leaves me weary and frustrated. But I refuse to give up. I know that I have to keep pushing forward, to keep breaking down barriers and challenging assumptions.

As I make my way back to the clubhouse, I can't shake the feeling that the golf club's tranquility is a farce. Beneath the surface, there are undercurrents of superiority from both humans and orcs alike, a persistent thorn in my side that I can't seem to escape.

I know that I'm not the only one who feels this way. Many of my fellow orcs have faced similar prejudices, both in the business world and in their personal lives. And while some humans are genuinely open-minded and accepting, others hold onto their biases with a stubbornness that's hard to break.

Despite the anger boiling beneath the surface of my skin, I maintain my composure, wearing a mask of indifference as I calculate my next move. I know that I can't let my emotions get the best of me, not in this world where the weight of my position and the burden of my face carry so much weight.

And sometimes, I have to wonder – what should I do to secure my success? To truly be seen as an equal in this world?

CHAPTER 5

Drakar

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