A few days later, Greg had just come back from being questioned by Compliance.
They wanted to know: why did the model used in your Hong Kong transaction overlap with the one from the Germany project? Weren't they supposed to be independent? Why were there design conflicts in the parameters, especially around leverage structure and currency logic?
Greg stood beside his desk, pale. That morning, he had received a formal email from Berlin Labs, CC'd to the entire team.
We confirm Mr. Julian Watanabe's participation in early-stage discussions and preliminary framework drafting.
The sandbox API request was submitted from your firm."
Greg didn't say a word. He dropped the printed email on Julian's desk.
"You signed it. You fix it. Write an 'Assumption Clarification Report.' Three days."
Julian nodded. He didn't ask questions. He opened his laptop and began typing.
Title:
Assumption Scenario X/ Alternative Stress Test
It looked exactly like a standard report. Clean format, calm tone, full of parameters and path analysis. It mirrored Greg's original model for the Hong Kong case line by line, as if Julian had simply re-run the old logic. He even kept Greg's comments in the margins.
No one would spot the problem on the first read.
Julian typed while listening to music. His fingers moved without pause. He knew exactly how to write every variable, every assumption, every line that would trigger a system warning.
He took his time. Tagged the version, added a timestamp, labeled it "for compliance review," and submitted the file.
Julian already knew what he was doing.
Greg's tone when giving the task had sounded like a command, maybe also like a setup.
"Just explain the logic. Compliance needs a response."
It sounded like a request. But it was meant to hand someone else the grenade.
Julian didn't argue. Didn't push back.
He just opened his laptop, typed the title in the usual format.
Everything looked like an obedient execution.
The report was clean, structured, and precise. Even the periods matched Greg's usual punctuation style.
That was intentional.
He wanted the file to be flawless. No one could say it was sloppy.
The real problem was hidden in the middle.
In one of the assumption lines, he wrote:
"If the settlement currency follows the new path and connects to an unverified interface."
There was nothing technically wrong with this line.
It was legal. It was logical.
But when placed next to Greg's original model, the system would mistake it for a critical risk.
Julian knew exactly what would happen.
When the system ran its automatic scan, the red light would flash.
And all he had to do was sit there and watch.
The system began processing the report.
Within twenty minutes, two alerts popped up:
High-risk combination detected: volatility path overlaps with hedge structure
Escalation required: multi-leverage path + cross-region settlement risk
Phones rang across the floor.
Greg saw the team group chat notification and turned pale. He opened the system. The Hong Kong project status had changed from "Pending Review" to "High Risk – Immediate Freeze."
He stormed over to Julian's desk.
His voice shook. "What the hell did you write?!"
Julian removed his earphones. His tone was calm. "You asked for clarification. I wrote a test."
"That's not a test. That's a bomb."
Julian didn't flinch. "It's just an assumption."
He looked out the window at the grey sky. "The system turned on the red light. Not me."
Greg ran back to his office, trying to retract the file.
But the system had already locked it as an official simulation result.
Julian had submitted it deliberately.
To everyone else, it looked like Julian had followed orders.
He completed his assignment.
The format was correct, the timestamp was there, and the compliance label was in place.
But the real flaw wasn't in Julian's report.
It was in Greg's original model.
The system didn't flag Julian for wrongdoing.
It flagged Greg for using a duplicated structure.
Julian had just brought the collision forward.
In the compliance meeting, Reed stared at the report.
"You submitted this yourself?"
Julian nodded.
"Why did you include this kind of assumption?"
"Testing variable combinations."
"You knew it could freeze the project?"
"I did."
"Why submit it anyway?"
Julian looked at him and said:
"You asked me to clarify the risks."
"Do you know Greg's project got frozen because of this?"
He nodded again.
Reed tapped the table. "What are you trying to do?"
Julian replied:
"I just wanted to see who would blow up first."
Then he stood up and walked out of the room.
That same afternoon, the system removed Greg's project access.
Julian was flagged as "High-Sensitivity Model Builder."
He didn't object. Didn't defend himself.
He just told a story that compliance could understand.
Then watched it explode on its own.
After work, Julian dropped onto a barstool, still in his suit, tie crooked. He waved at the bartender.
"Double. Anything."
The table next to him was arguing about football scores.
Halfway through his second drink, biting down on a slice of lime, he suddenly heard a shout from the far side of the bar.
"Will you marry me?"
He turned his head. A man was kneeling on the floor, holding out a ring. A friend beside him was snapping photos with a DSLR. The woman's hand covered her mouth, eyes already watering.
Before Julian could look away, a middle‑aged man in a trench coat stood up and raised his glass.
"Don't do it, lad."
The whole place froze. Even the music seemed to stop.
The man steadied himself, cleared his throat, and began talking as if on stage.
"That was me once. Same bar, same kind of night. Bought the ring, hired the photographer, thought I was a genius."
He lifted his glass higher. His voice cracked but grew louder.
"Three years later, I couldn't even see my cat anymore!"
Someone burst out laughing. Then came applause. The mood shifted into something between tragedy and stand‑up comedy. Julian raised his glass toward the man.
"To the cat."
The couple just stood there, awkward and frozen, while the photographer kept shooting. The whole scene looked like a mix of a wedding, an open‑mic night, and a divorce support group.
Julian finished his drink and said, "Good thing I'm single."