During his student years, Anderson had endured dozens, if not hundreds, of oral examinations. The excuses and throat-twisting questions from the respected, elderly professors—glasses solemnly perched on the bridge of their noses, their stern eyes seeming to want to peel the skin from his spine without anesthesia—still haunted him. Chills would run down his body, and beads of sweat would form on his temples, just like now. However, this time, the person asking the questions was him.
"Mr. William Smith, please allow me to ask honestly."
"Please."
"Why did the company choose me? A new graduate, with no practical experience, and perhaps not even solid knowledge?"
"Mr. Anderson Jr. Seely, you have been vouched for by Professor David. I don't have your knowledge that was trained and transferred from a Dean of the Department of Geology and Mineral Resources who worked at my company. Your knowledge is the key to the success of my company. Your knowledge strengthens our company's work practices."
"Mr. William Smith, why don't you hire Professor David to do this directly?"
"Mr. Anderson Jr. Seely, Professor David just had a stroke and passed away this morning. Please allow me to express my deepest condolences."
Anderson froze. He hadn't known this. No one had informed him. He hadn't checked his email nor Facebook in a few days, consumed with preparing for job interviews. He hadn't even thought to follow up on personal matters. A wave of sadness filled his mind. Professor David had been an excellent teacher, and more importantly, a friend. How could he not have known?
"Rest in peace, David," Anderson whispered, his voice soft with grief.
"I'm sorry to hear that," William Smith muttered. "Professor David was a good colleague and friend of mine too. I just found out this bad news in an online meeting ten minutes ago."
Anderson didn't respond, but his mind raced. The absence of any prior communication unsettled him. Why hadn't William Smith mentioned it earlier? It seemed… cold, somehow.
"If I just want the normal salary, is that okay?" Anderson asked, trying to refocus.
"The choice is yours. If you want to be a normal salaried employee of our company, I have no objections. But I want someone with your knowledge on board to work with me. Since I've chosen you, you should understand that I have vetted you carefully—just a letter of introduction isn't enough."
"Does that mean you've been following me?"
"Yes, and it has been for a long time. Business is like a battlefield. Choosing someone who knows how to work is more difficult than choosing a soldier to fight."
Anderson wasn't sure whether he should be flattered or disturbed by this. Still, his mind raced. The tension in the room was palpable, the stakes growing higher by the second.
"Thank you for your consideration. But why me? Please be sincere. There are still concerns in my heart before signing this contract. Why, with the existing data and documents at the Tagiunituk Lakes project, was Kivalina Resources Limited Liabilities Company able to immediately deploy mining operations? With the reserves shown in the file, your company will succeed and gain great profits. Therefore, the IPO will be successful."
"I will be honest," William Smith replied.
Anderson noticed a flicker of movement behind him—Layla Smith, subtly signaling William Smith to be cautious, to keep certain things hidden. Anderson's instincts told him to be alert. He didn't turn around, maintaining his focus on William Smith. He had been trained to read people, and Layla's gestures were not lost on him. She was urging restraint, but why?
"Professor David hid something in the Tagiunituk Lakes project that's preventing progress," William Smith continued, his voice steady but with an edge that made Anderson's pulse quicken.
Anderson's mind churned. The pieces didn't add up. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.
"Is that why Professor David…?" Anderson blurted out, before stopping himself. The question hung in the air like a misstep, and he immediately regretted it.
"No," William Smith responded with chilling calm, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "This is an extremely false accusation, and it seriously affects our reputation. I'm a businessman, not a murderer. Although we have more than enough resources to handle it, his death was the price he had to pay. I also found out he was leaking information to my rival company."
Anderson's gaze shot to William Smith's face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. Just one second before, he had just affirmed that he was not a murderer, but now there was something in his eyes that made Anderson question the sincerity of those words. Was William Smith lying? Or was there something more sinister beneath the surface?
The room felt suddenly colder, the air thicker. William Smith's calmness only heightened the unease that had begun to settle in Anderson's gut. There was an unsettling contrast between the words spoken and the controlled, almost mechanical delivery. His voice lacked the warmth Anderson might have expected after such a tragic announcement. Instead, there was a coldness that suggested an unspoken truth. Anderson couldn't quite place it, but something about William Smith felt... off.
Anderson pushed forward, his voice steady despite the rising tension. "What if I don't sign the contract, quit my job, and leave the company right now?"
William Smith's eyes didn't waver. "You'll only need to leave one thing behind," he replied smoothly, his gaze unwavering.
Before Anderson could ask what that "one thing" was, he noticed Layla's movement from the corner of his eye. The fluidity of her motion was unnerving, almost unnatural. Instinctively, Anderson raised his left hand, making an absent gesture that resembled scratching his head. But it wasn't to alleviate a thought—it was to block the deadly strike aimed at his throat.
His left leg instinctively shifted, narrowly avoiding her kick. Layla's grace had betrayed her danger. How could someone so composed be so violent? Was this a test of his character? Or was there a deeper purpose behind her sudden aggression?
The coldness in her eyes, like her touch earlier, unsettled him even more. When they shook hands, he felt the chill of her skin, as if the warmth had been drained from her completely. Her hands were unnaturally cold, like stone, and the lack of softness in her grip made Anderson's skin crawl.
The sense of danger had escalated quickly. It wasn't just a business meeting anymore. It felt like he was being watched—judged—even tested. His mind was racing now, calculating his next move.
His adoptive parents had once trained him in karate, preparing him for moments like this. But Anderson had never expected to be using his reflexes in a corporate setting. Yet here he was, stepping into a world where violence was as much a tool as a contract.