David's campaign was insidiously effective. To the rest of the department, the narrative was clear: the new hire, Leo Zhang, was talented but sloppy. He had flashes of brilliance, but he was inconsistent and required constant supervision from their diligent manager, David, to get his work over the finish line.
Anna, the ambitious analyst, was the primary vector for this narrative. "It's a shame," she'd say to others at the coffee machine, just loud enough for Ben to overhear. "He's clearly smart, but he just can't seem to nail the details. David is practically redoing all his work."
Even Ben, Leo's first ally, began to show signs of doubt. His questions at Leo's desk became less frequent. The [Ally] status in Leo's System view flickered, occasionally dipping into a wary [Neutral]. The camaraderie he had briefly felt was evaporating, replaced by the familiar chill of isolation. This time, it was worse. It wasn't the silence of exclusion; it was the quiet hum of professional disappointment.
The breaking point came during a high-stakes progress meeting for Project Nightingale, the department's flagship initiative. The entire team was gathered, along with two VPs who had dialed in via video conference.
David was leading the presentation. He clicked to a slide dense with financial projections. "And as you can see," he said, gesturing to the screen, "our projected Q4 margin is a solid 18.5%, a very strong indicator for the new fiscal year."
One of the VPs on the screen, a woman with sharp, intelligent eyes, interrupted. "Hold on, David. Your own preliminary report from last month, which I have right here, projected 21%. That's a significant drop. What happened?"
The room went tense. David feigned a moment of confused recollection. He scrolled back through his notes, his face a mask of concern. Then, he sighed, a heavy, theatrical sound.
"That's an excellent and crucial question, Maria," he said gravely. He turned and gave Leo a look of profound disappointment. "Leo, I believe you were responsible for integrating the final cost-analysis data into these projections. Did you perhaps forget to account for the updated vendor fees we discussed?"
Every head in the room swiveled to face Leo. He was on the spot, in front of VPs, being blamed for a multi-million dollar "mistake." The vendor fees David mentioned were a complete fabrication. Leo's original projection had been 21%. This was the most audacious manipulation yet.
For the first time since acquiring his skills, Leo felt a white-hot surge of pure, unadulterated rage.
It was a volcanic pressure building in his chest. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table. The urge to stand up, to shout, to open his laptop and show them all the Receipts folder right then and there, was overwhelming. He could end it. He could expose David for the fraud he was, consequences be damned. The Poker Face skill flickered, threatening to shatter.
His vision tunneled. The faces of his colleagues—Anna's smug satisfaction, Ben's weary disappointment, the VPs' stern judgment—all blurred into a single, suffocating wave of pressure.
Just as the dam was about to break, a new sensation washed over him. It was a cold, arctic wave that didn't just suppress the rage, but extinguished it utterly.
[WARNING: Calm Mind (Lv. 1) is insufficient to contain emotional overflow.] [System Override: User is at risk of making a strategically catastrophic decision.] [Forcing emergency skill upgrade…]
The rage vanished. Not just hidden, but gone. In its place was a profound, terrifying stillness. The world snapped back into focus, but it was different now—sharper, colder, devoid of all emotional color.
[New Skill Acquired: Calm Mind (Lv. 2)] [Effect: Grants the user a state of hyper-rationality. Complex emotional and political situations are perceived as pure data streams. User can now calculate optimal long-term outcomes without emotional interference.]
Leo looked up at David. He no longer saw a man who had betrayed him. He saw a variable. A temporary obstacle with predictable behavior. He saw the VPs, not as judges, but as a target audience. He saw his colleagues, not as traitors, but as environmental factors to be managed.
He took a slow breath and stood up.
"You are correct, David," Leo said, his voice so calm it was chilling. "I take full responsibility. I overlooked the integration of that data point. It was my error, and it will not happen again."
The apology was so direct, so devoid of excuse, that it was disarming. David, who had been prepared for an argument, could only nod. "See that it doesn't."
Leo sat down. He could feel the weight of the room's judgment settle on him, but it meant nothing. It was just data. His eyes were fixed on the calendar on the wall. The end-of-quarter board review was in three weeks.
He felt his phone vibrate.
[Long-term quest "The Credit Thief" has been updated.] [Optimal moment for execution has been identified.] [Countdown Initiated: 21 days.]
Leo leaned back in his chair, his face a perfect mask of calm humility. But inside, a new thought echoed with the clarity of a diamond bell.
Revenge isn't a dish best served cold. It's a transaction best executed at maximum leverage.