6

The morning sunlight struggled to pierce through the clouds, spilling onto the city's streets and alleys. The puddles left by last night's storm hadn't fully dried, reflecting the sky above like the city's unshed tears.

Paul hadn't slept a wink, dark circles framing his eyes as he walked toward Krook's company, his heart heavy with unease.

Along the way, he kept mentally pep-talking himself, trying to suppress the panic and anxiety bubbling within. But the moment he recalled last night's events at the villa, the fragile confidence he'd mustered crumbled once more.

The company building towered over the bustling street, its sleek glass facade glinting brilliantly in the sunlight. The entrance buzzed with activity as hurried employees streamed in and out.

Paul took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and stepped through the grand doors—symbols of wealth and power, yet riddled with unseen dangers.

As he entered the lobby, the receptionist greeted him warmly: "Good morning, Krook!"

Paul nodded stiffly, offering an awkward smile before hastening toward the elevator.

Arriving at his office floor, he stepped out of the elevator to find his secretary, Hannah, already approaching with a thick stack of documents. She spoke respectfully: "Krook, here are the files you need to review today, along with materials for a few urgent projects. The department heads will come by soon to update you on their progress."

Paul eyed the hefty pile, dread creeping in. He took them with a forced calm, saying, "Uh, just leave them here. I'll take a look." With that, he entered his office and sank into the wide chair behind the desk, feeling like a fraudulent monarch perched on a throne, liable to be toppled at any moment.

Before long, the department heads filed in to deliver their reports. The marketing director went first, rattling off details about the latest market research and proposed promotional strategies. Paul listened to the flood of jargon and data, his mind fogging over. He tried to keep up, but the more he heard, the more lost he felt.

When the marketing director finished, Paul hesitated before responding: "Um… this plan seems decent overall, but some parts might need a bit more refining. Uh… maybe we could expand the advertising channels a little? Yeah… that's about it for now."

His vague, wishy-washy comments lacked the sharp, decisive edge Krook was known for.

The marketing director blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He'd worked under Krook for years, accustomed to razor-sharp, constructive feedback after every report. Today's response was jarringly out of character. Still, he couldn't question it outright and simply nodded: "Understood, Krook. I'll refine the plan."

Next, the finance director began detailing the company's financials, focusing on the cash flow and expected returns of a major investment project. Paul was utterly clueless about the specifics, listening in a daze. He could only muster a vague reply: "Uh, just keep a tight grip on the finances. I trust your expertise. As long as the funds are secure and the returns steady, that's fine."

The finance director frowned, suspicion gnawing at him. This wasn't Krook's usual approach. Normally, for a project this significant, Krook would grill them on every detail, knowing the numbers inside and out. Hesitant, he pressed: "Krook, there are a few risk factors with this project I should probably go over with you in detail. Given the huge sums involved, what do you think…?"

Paul's heart thudded, though he kept his face composed, waving a hand dismissively: "Uh, just give me the short version. I've got a rough idea already."

Reluctantly, the finance director outlined a few key risks, but Paul barely grasped them, nodding and mumbling absentmindedly. His half-hearted attitude only deepened the director's doubts.

At that moment, the operations director, standing quietly in the corner, exchanged a glance with a colleague. Their eyes betrayed clear skepticism as they furrowed their brows and whispered: "What's with Krook today? He feels like a different person—barely engaged, no confidence in his words. Did something happen?"

Though their voices were hushed, the words cut through the silent office like a blade to Paul's ears. His pulse raced, palms slick with sweat. He felt like a clown under a spotlight, his flimsy disguise unraveling before everyone's eyes.

The meeting finally ended, and as the directors filed out, Paul slumped in his chair, exhaling as if he'd just escaped a battlefield.

But he knew this was only the beginning. Every day at the company would be like navigating a minefield—one misstep could blow his cover wide open. And when that happened, the consequences would be catastrophic.

Outside, a patch of dark clouds dimmed the sunlight, casting a shadow over the already stifling office.

Paul sat there, trying to recover from the grueling meeting, but the prickling sense of being watched wouldn't fade. The sunlight, now fully blocked by clouds, left the room dim, as if foreshadowing the gathering storm ahead.

Just then, the intercom on his desk rang sharply, its shrill tone jarring in the stillness. Paul flinched, hesitating before picking it up. A steady, serious voice came through: "Krook, it's Leon, the deputy general manager. Are you free right now? I'd like to discuss something with you in person."

Paul's stomach dropped. Leon was a company veteran who'd worked closely with Krook for years, intimately familiar with his every habit. Swallowing hard, Paul replied, "Oh, Leon, yeah, I'm free. Come on over."

Moments later, a knock sounded at the door—"thump, thump, thump"—each tap pounding against Paul's nerves. "Come in," he said, striving to keep his voice steady.

The door swung open, and Leon stepped inside. Tall and imposing, he wore a crisp suit, his hair impeccably combed, a habitual smile on his face. But his eyes carried a probing intensity. He studied Paul for a moment before speaking slowly: "Krook, after those reports today, I couldn't help but feel something's… off with you."

Paul's heart leapt to his throat, though he forced a puzzled look: "Oh? What do you mean, Leon? I don't think anything's wrong."

Leon approached the desk, not sitting but leaning forward slightly, hands braced on the surface. His gaze locked onto Paul's as he lowered his voice: "Krook, you used to spot the crux of the marketing plan in an instant, offering pointed, spot-on suggestions. Today, you barely scratched the surface. And that big investment the finance team mentioned—you'd normally dig into every detail. But now, you're brushing it off. Don't tell me you're hiding some trouble from us old-timers."

Paul's back was drenched in sweat. He forced a dry laugh, scrambling for an excuse: "Leon, you're overthinking it. I've just been exhausted lately—my head's not keeping up. No need to worry."

Leon frowned, straightening up and crossing his arms, unrelenting: "Krook, we've worked together for years—I know you inside and out. Tired or not, you've never been sloppy about the company's big decisions. And I heard something else—apparently, you were acting strange during a business meeting last night. What's going on?"

Paul cursed inwardly. Word had spread faster than he'd feared—last night's slip-ups at the villa were already making waves. His tension spiked, but he couldn't let it show, so he pressed on: "Strange? It's nothing—just some personal stuff throwing me off. Don't worry about it, Leon. I'll bounce back soon."

Leon's gaze seemed to pierce through him. After a long pause, he said meaningfully: "Krook, I hope I'm just overthinking this. The company's at a critical stage—we can't afford any turbulence. If something's wrong, talk to me. We can figure it out together. Just don't let whatever this is drag the company into trouble."

...