Chapter 22 – Cracks in the Foundation

Taro's eyes burned as he stared at the glowing screen. His hands ached from typing. The numbers on the report blurred together, but he forced himself to keep going.

This project was a test. Rylan had made that clear. And if he messed this up…

No. He couldn't afford to fail.

A sharp knock snapped him out of his thoughts. The door opened before he could respond—Rylan.

Taro quickly straightened in his chair. "I was just about to finalize the report—"

Rylan raised a hand, stopping him. "Relax." He walked in, scanning the screen over Taro's shoulder. His lips curved slightly. "You work hard. I like that."

Taro exhaled, tension easing—until Rylan's fingers tapped the desk.

"But there's a problem."

Taro's stomach tightened. "What?"

Rylan picked up a printed sheet from the desk, turning it toward him. "Here." His tone was calm, almost too calm.

Taro's eyes skimmed the document—then his chest clenched. A calculation error. Small, but noticeable.

"I—I'll fix it." He reached for the keyboard, but Rylan didn't move.

"You will." Rylan's voice was smooth. "But mistakes like this? They tell me you're distracted."

Taro swallowed. "I'm not. I just—"

Rylan let out a thoughtful hum. "It happens. Especially to people who overthink. People who compare themselves too much."

Taro froze.

Rylan's tone remained light, but there was a sharpness beneath it. "You ever notice how some people have everything handed to them? No struggle, no proving themselves—they just exist, and that's enough?"

Taro's grip on the desk tightened.

Of course, he noticed. He noticed all the time.

Rylan chuckled softly. "People like us? We don't get that luxury. We have to earn our place. And if we make mistakes…" He paused, letting the words hang. "Well. You know how it is."

Taro's chest tightened.

Rylan sighed, pushing the paper back toward him. "Fix it. And don't let this happen again."

Taro nodded stiffly. "It won't."

Rylan gave him one last look before leaving.

As soon as the door shut, Taro let out a slow breath, pressing his hands against his temples.

He didn't need distractions. He didn't need doubt. He just needed to prove himself.

No matter what.

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