Ben's nod of approval was a key turning a lock. The wall of silence didn't crumble, but a door had opened. The next week, Ben would occasionally stop by Leo's desk.
"Zhang, got a second? What's your take on these Q3 projections? Looks optimistic to me," he'd grumble, pointing to a line on his monitor.
It was a test. Leo, armed with the data he'd absorbed from the archives and his preternatural analytical speed, would give a concise, insightful answer. "It is optimistic. It doesn't account for the new logistics tariffs in the APAC region. The real number is probably 4% lower."
Ben would grunt, make the adjustment, and walk away without a word of thanks. But the next day, he would be back with another question. The [Progress toward "Genuine Respect"] bar on Leo's phone slowly ticked up: 40%... 60%... 75%...
The opportunity to close the gap came on a Thursday. David Chen, the department head, called a brief huddle. He looked stressed, a rare crack in his polished veneer.
"The board is asking for a last-minute competitive analysis on the acquisition of OmniCorp by our rival, Apex Global," David announced. "It's not urgent-urgent, but they want it by Monday. Everyone's hands are full with Project Nightingale, so I need someone to take this on solo."
A collective sigh went through the team. It was a classic "thankless task"—high effort for low visibility. No one volunteered.
Anna stared intently at her screen, pretending to be too busy to notice. Others suddenly found their keyboards fascinating.
Then, Ben spoke up, his voice raspy. "Give it to the new kid. Let's see what he's made of."
David's gaze fell on Leo. His expression, filtered through Leo's Microexpression Reading, was a mix of [Assessment] and [Skepticism]. "You think you can handle it, Zhang?"
"Yes, sir," Leo said, his voice steady.
"Good. I want it on my desk by 9 a.m. Monday. Don't just give me numbers; give me a narrative."
For the next two days, Leo worked with a singular, ferocious focus. This wasn't just a report; it was his debut performance. He dove into the data, his Fast Typing skill a blur across the keyboard. He used Slides Expert not just to present data, but to craft a story, just as David had asked. He built a compelling narrative showing how Apex Global's acquisition wasn't a power play, but a desperate move to shore up a failing R&D division—a weakness TitanCorp could exploit.
He worked through the weekend, his legendary-grade laptop handling the immense processing load without a single stutter. By Sunday night, he had a 40-slide masterpiece. It was clean, insightful, and ruthless. It wasn't just a report; it was a war plan.
He emailed it to David at 8:55 a.m. on Monday.
At 11:30 a.m., a department-wide email from David landed in everyone's inbox.
Subject: Excellent work on the Apex-Omni Analysis
Team,
I wanted to commend the department on the quick turnaround for the competitive analysis requested by the board. Working through the weekend, we were able to produce some truly exceptional insights that will prove invaluable to our corporate strategy moving forward. This is the kind of proactive, high-level thinking that makes this department the best in the company. Great job, everyone.
Leo's name was nowhere to be seen.
He stared at the email, a cold stillness settling over him. It wasn't a simple oversight; it was a deliberate act of appropriation. David had taken his solo, weekend-devouring work and presented it as his own "leadership" of a team effort.
Across the office, he saw Ben read the email and then look over at him, a flicker of something—pity? disappointment?—in his eyes. [Emotion Detected: Vicarious Frustration.] Ben knew exactly what had just happened. He had seen this game played a thousand times.
The old Leo would have burned with a righteous, impotent fury. He would have fantasized about storming into David's office or sending a "Reply All" email.
But Leo's Calm Mind held him in a state of perfect, icy tranquility. He didn't react. He didn't sigh or scowl. He simply archived the email, took a slow sip of his lukewarm coffee, and turned back to his screen. He understood. This was the real boss fight of this level. It wasn't about a single presentation; it was about a political war of attrition. An open rebellion now would be career suicide. He would be branded as insubordinate, not a team player.
He needed to wait. He needed to gather more data. He needed to pick the perfect moment to strike.
His phone vibrated, its light unseen beneath the desk.
[Your strategic patience under duress has been recognized.] [Quest Complete: The Wall of Silence] [You have earned the genuine respect of a senior colleague, Ben, through both competence and composure.] [Reward: +300 EXP. Ben's status is now "Ally."]
Another notification immediately followed.
[New Quest: The Credit Thief] [Description: Your manager has claimed credit for your work. A direct confrontation is unwise, but allowing it to stand will set a dangerous precedent.] [Objective: Expose the manager's actions at the most opportune moment, ensuring maximum impact and minimal collateral damage to your own career.] [This is a long-term quest. Patience will be rewarded.]
Leo looked at David Chen's glass-walled office. The man was on the phone, laughing. He looked every bit the successful, competent manager. For a moment, Leo's Poker Face wavered, and the faintest hint of a predator's smile touched his lips.
The game had just gotten a lot more interesting.