Filler
The Janitorial Ultimatum
Kniya stared at the massive puddle of brown tea soaking into his expensive rug and the utterly ruined, completely blank sheets of paper scattered across the floor. The sheer mess was causing his aristocratic brain to short-circuit.
He aggressively slammed his hand onto the silver call bell on his mahogany desk, ringing it repeatedly like a maniac.
"Hey! Is there any competent asshole out there?!" Kniya roared toward the shattered doorway.
A terrified cleaning clerk practically teleported into the executive suite, holding a mop like a weapon.
"I want this entire floor spotless in exactly ten minutes!" Kniya ordered, pointing a furious, trembling finger at the tea puddle. "Or otherwise, every single janitor in this sector is going to be permanently fired! Clean the fucking floor, you absolute idiots! This is so incredibly annoying to deal with! Malesh absolutely destroyed my premium white decoy papers! It is deeply sad to see such high-quality stationery go to waste!"
The clerk immediately dropped to his knees and started frantically scrubbing the rug, entirely terrified of the screaming billionaire.
The Parasite's Rent
Kniya collapsed back into his luxurious chair, exhausted by his own tantrum. He looked over at Malesh, who was still standing near the sofa, looking deeply annoyed at his stained dragon tie.
"Okay, let's get back to the actual problem," Kniya sighed, lacing his fingers together. "Who is going to train this new Production Head? Silvisa."
"Not me," Malesh deadpanned instantly.
"Listen to me, you stubborn bastard," Kniya argued, leaning forward. "Look around. Out of the thousands of employees in this entire building, you and I are literally the only two people who are doing absolutely jack shit. We are resting all day long. So I logically think it is a task for either me or you to handle."
"I am absolutely not going to do that," Malesh rejected bluntly, crossing his arms over his ruined tie. "Why should I have to train your Kavilson Steel employees? I am the Managing Director of an energy grid. Why the hell am I going to do corporate onboarding for you?"
"Oh, you absolute idiot!" Kniya shrieked, throwing his hands in the air. "You need to do it for one specific reason! You are always lounging in my executive office for free! You consume my air conditioning, you drink my carbonated blue drinks, and you sit on my leather sofa! You need to pay rent, you wealthy parasite! And this training session is your method of payment!"
"I reject your economic logic," Malesh stated coldly. "My presence here increases your overall corporate prestige."
The Probability Duel
Kniya groaned, aggressively rubbing his temples. Arguing with Malesh was like arguing with a brick wall that had a degree in economics.
"Okay, fine," Kniya declared, a wicked, highly competitive smirk spreading across his face. "I have come up with a foolproof plan to settle this. A high-stakes contest involving statistical probability, psychological dominance, and pure, unfiltered luck."
Malesh narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What exactly are you proposing?"
"We are going to play Stone, Paper, Scissors to decide who is going to win this argument," Kniya announced grandly.
Malesh stared at him. "We are grown men. We control trillions of credits. And you want to settle a labor dispute with a playground hand gesture?"
"It is the ultimate equalizer!" Kniya yelled. He reached under his desk and slammed a button on his sound system.
Suddenly, heavy, incredibly dramatic, booming drum bells began to blast through the surround-sound speakers of the office. The tension in the room instantly skyrocketed to an absurd, comic-level intensity. The cleaning clerk scrubbing the floor completely froze in terror.
"On three, you coward!" Kniya shouted over the booming drums, rolling up his sleeves and raising his fist.
Malesh let out a deeply exhausted sigh, raised his own fist, and prepared his highly analytical brain to predict Kniya's micro-movements.
"One!" Kniya chanted.
"Two!"
"Three!"
Malesh threw Stone. He figured Kniya's aggressive, blunt personality would default to Scissors.
Kniya threw Paper.
The heavy drum music instantly cut off.
The Biological Revelation
Malesh stood completely frozen, staring down at his closed fist covered by Kniya's open palm.
"What the fuck just happened?" Malesh muttered, his deadpan composure cracking into genuine disbelief. "I lost again. This is statistically highly improbable."
Kniya burst into hysterical, victorious laughter, practically dancing behind his desk.
"Literally, this is the second time I have lost to your ridiculous gambling," Malesh groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Previously, it was on the luxury boat when we were violently discussing the ownership of that private island. And now I lost again. Ah, shit."
"So, Malesh!" Kniya cheered, pointing a victorious finger at his defeated business partner. "I think we officially found the executive player who is going to train the new hire!"
"Fine," Malesh agreed bitterly, accepting his defeat with zero grace. "Yes. I am going to do that tedious thing. Send the guy in when he arrives."
Kniya stopped cheering. A massive, incredibly evil grin stretched across his face.
"Okay, but let me tell you one more crucial detail, Malesh," Kniya purred, leaning over the desk. "You know that she is not a boy, right? She is a woman."
Malesh blinked, his brain halting. "What?"
"Don't you get that simple fact from her name, you emotionally stunted robot?!" Kniya shrieked with laughter. "Silvisa! It is a female name, you fucking idiot! You are going to be training a woman!"
Malesh's face fell into a mask of pure, unadulterated dread. As a man who completely despised social interaction and found biological variables highly inefficient, being forced to spend hours alone training a female executive was his literal nightmare.
The Smitten Guard
Before Malesh could attempt to renegotiate the terms of his defeat, heavy footsteps approached the shattered doorway.
One of the elite Kavilson Steel security guards walked into the room. However, instead of his usual terrifying, highly disciplined posture, the guard was slouching. He had a goofy, completely dazed, love-struck smile plastered across his face. He was literally humming a soft romantic tune, and he completely missed the massive puddle of tea, slipping slightly but barely even noticing.
He clutched his armored chest, looking like he was floating on a cloud.
"Sir..." the guard sighed dreamily, looking at Kniya with glazed-over eyes. "The new Production Head... Miss Silvisa... she is waiting in the lobby."
The guard let out a heavy, romantic sigh, completely breaking every single protocol in the corporate handbook.
"She is an absolute angel," the guard whispered, staring blankly at the wall.
Kniya and Malesh both stared at the heavily armed guard, completely baffled by the sudden, disgusting display of romance in their war room.
The Production Logic
Malesh let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples. Dealing with human biology and emotions was exactly why he hated training people.
He turned back to Kniya, who was thoroughly enjoying the show from behind his desk.
"Okay, fine," Malesh grumbled. "But what exactly am I supposed to teach her? What is the curriculum?"
Kniya stared at him for three seconds before bursting into loud, mocking laughter.
"Are you literally dense, Malesh?!" Kniya yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "She is a Production Manager! What do you think you are going to train her with? Fucking marketing, you idiot?! You are not going to sit in a boardroom and teach her how to draw billboard advertisements!"
"I am an energy executive," Malesh defended flatly. "I do not know your exact corporate onboarding process."
"You are going to train her with pure production logic!" Kniya lectured aggressively. "You are going to take her to the heavy blast furnaces! You are going to show her the underground shipping routes! You are going to take her to the Kavilson steel mills! Just use some basic fucking common sense, Malesh! Her work is entirely related to industrial production!"
"Okay, okay, I get it," Malesh muttered, looking absolutely miserable. "Ah, this is going to be a really annoying task for me. I hate factory tours."
Malesh straightened his ruined dragon tie and looked at his business partner.
"Since I am doing your dirty work," Malesh stated. "Can I at least get the keys to one of your exotic cars for this reason? I need a heavily armored vehicle to drive her to the industrial sector."
The 39 Wrecks
Kniya's mocking smile instantly vanished. He looked at Malesh with absolute, stone-cold capitalist seriousness.
Without saying a single word, Kniya reached under his desk, pulled out a heavy, leather-bound accounting ledger, and slammed it onto the mahogany desk. He flipped to a specific page covered in red ink.
"One hundred million credits," Kniya demanded flatly.
Malesh blinked. "What?"
"That is the exact amount that you have to pay me right fucking now before getting a new car from my garage," Kniya declared, tapping the ledger. "Because over the last three years, you have violently destroyed exactly thirty-nine of my previous hyper-cars in various tactical accidents, shootouts, and explosions, and you haven't paid me back for a single one of them! So first, you pay your outstanding vehicular debt, and then you are going to get a new car!"
"Please, Kniya," Malesh deadpanned, attempting to beg but sounding entirely robotic. "Please give me a new car. Please. Please."
"Absolutely fucking no!" Kniya rejected loudly. "I am not going to give a brand new car to you for free! You destroyed thirty-nine of my cars! I am not a charity! You pay first, then you drive!"
Malesh let out a long, defeated groan. "Okay. Fine. You greedy bastard."
Malesh reached into his tailored suit jacket, pulled out a crisp corporate checkbook and a high-end fountain pen. He quickly scribbled out the massive sum, signed his name with a flourish, ripped the check out, and handed it across the desk.
Kniya took the piece of paper, squinting at it highly suspiciously.
"How do I know that this check is actually authentic, you idiot?" Kniya asked, waving the paper in the air. "You need to legally prove this is authentic and not just some elaborate banking scam of yours to steal my cars!"
"It is definitely authentic," Malesh argued. "It has the official Malesh Energy watermark."
"No, I am not believing in this paper bullshit!" Kniya yelled, tossing the check back onto the desk. "You are a known corporate fraud! I want you to pay me in hard cash!"
"Do you honestly think I casually carry one hundred million credits of physical cash in my suit pockets, you absolute dumbass?!" Malesh shouted back.
"I don't care!" Kniya crossed his arms stubbornly. "I want cash! I don't care about anything else!"
"Fine!" Malesh snapped. "Just call one of your finance employees up here to cash this check out from the corporate vault!"