Friday was "Premium Lunch Day" in the Strategic Analysis department—a small but highly valued perk. Every employee received a voucher for a high-end lunch delivery service, a corporate nod to their hard work. The vouchers were distributed in the morning, flimsy paper rectangles that represented a brief escape from the office grind.
Leo left his on his desk, tucked under the corner of his keyboard, while he went to retrieve a document from the high-speed printer across the office. The trip took no more than three minutes. When he returned, the voucher was gone.
His first instinct was a flash of hot anger. It was a petty, almost childish act of aggression. But Calm Mind immediately doused the flame, leaving only cool logic. This wasn't a theft; it was a message. You are not one of us.
He sat down and slowly scanned the room, his Microexpression Reading skill active. His gaze fell first on Anna, the ambitious analyst who wore her contempt for him like a designer accessory. She was typing furiously, but as he looked her way, she glanced up. Her expression was the usual mix of superiority and disdain. There was no guilt, no flicker of fear. The System confirmed it: [Emotion Detected: Chronic Contempt.] It wasn't her. A direct theft was too crude for her style; she would prefer to stab him in the back with a well-placed email.
His eyes continued to sweep the room. Ben, his target, was engrossed in a spreadsheet, his face a mask of neutral concentration. Then Leo's gaze landed on a junior analyst named Kevin, who sat two desks away from Anna. Kevin was trying to look busy, but his fingers hovered over his keyboard, his posture rigid. He kept darting nervous glances, not at Leo, but at Anna.
Ah, Leo thought. Not the rival, but the rival's sycophant.
As Leo watched, Kevin's eyes flicked toward him for a brief second. For a fraction of that second, his brow furrowed in a way that had nothing to do with work. [Emotion Detected: Fleeting Guilt / Anxiety.]
Leo had his man. A direct confrontation would be a disaster. Accusing a junior employee of such a petty crime would make Leo look like a bully. It would alienate everyone, especially a veteran like Ben who valued a peaceful office. He needed a more elegant solution.
He stood up and stretched, feigning a slight frustration. He walked over to the small cluster of desks where Ben and a few other senior analysts sat, Kevin just within earshot.
"That's annoying," Leo said to no one in particular, but loud enough for the group to hear. "I seem to have misplaced my lunch voucher."
Ben grunted sympathetically without looking up from his screen.
Leo continued, his tone casual, "I've already pinged IT to check the security camera feed for my desk area from the last ten minutes. They're usually quick about it. Just want to make sure I didn't drop it somewhere."
It was a complete and utter bluff. There might be cameras in the main hallways, but not pointed at individual desks—that would be a privacy nightmare. But Kevin didn't know that.
Leo's eyes were locked on Kevin. The moment the words "security camera" left his lips, Kevin's face became a canvas of pure terror. It was a lightning-fast cascade of microexpressions: his eyes widened, his lips pressed into a thin line, the muscles in his jaw clenched, and a tiny, almost invisible bead of sweat formed on his temple.
[Subject: Kevin. Dominant Emotion Detected: PANIC.]
The trap was sprung. Now, it was time to show mercy.
Before anyone could respond, Leo let out a small chuckle. "Oh, for goodness' sake." He walked back to his desk, picked up a thick notebook, and pretended to look under it. "Never mind, everyone. Crisis averted. It was stuck to the bottom of my folio the whole time. My apologies."
He held up the voucher that he had palmed from his own pocket moments before.
He then looked directly at Kevin. The junior analyst was frozen, his face pale. Leo gave him a calm, neutral look—no anger, no triumph. He then gave a single, almost imperceptible nod before turning back to his screen.
The message was crystal clear: I know it was you. I have you. And I am letting you go. We are done here.
Kevin slumped in his chair, a wave of relief so powerful it was almost visible.
Leo didn't look at him again. He looked at Ben. The older analyst had stopped working. He had watched the entire, silent drama unfold. He had seen the bait, the panic, and the graceful, face-saving conclusion. He had witnessed a junior employee being corrected without being humiliated. He saw a man who had the power to crush a subordinate for a petty insult, but chose not to.
Ben looked at Leo, and for the first time, the [Resigned Wariness] was gone. In its place, his eyes held a new light. He gave Leo a slow, deliberate nod of approval. It was a small gesture, but in the silent war of the 34th floor, it was a cannon blast.
Leo's phone vibrated silently in his pocket.
[Quest Objective Updated: You have gained the notice of a senior colleague.] [Ben (Analyst): Status changed from "Wary" to "Observing with Interest."] [Progress toward "Genuine Respect": 25%]