"I... I won't say... I won't say anything... Please...!"

Luca nodded frantically, his nails digging into her wrist so hard they tore the skin, but she still didn't let go.

As if waiting.

Waiting to see if he was truly desperate.

Only when she was certain did she finally release him.

Luca collapsed onto the seat with a heavy thud, his entire body convulsing, gasping, sucking in air like a drowning man.

He coughed violently, his eyes bloodshot, his throat burning as if scorched raw.

But she merely looked down at him, cold and detached, as if the entire ordeal had been nothing more than a dull amusement.

The dim light inside the car flickered across the employee badge pinned to his chest.

She glanced down.

Picked it up.Dùng đầu ngón tay lướt nhẹ trên bề mặt của nó, chậm rãi và thận trọng.

Then—Mỉm cười.

A condescending, knowing smirk.

As if she had just found a particularly amusing pawn.

Isla tilted her head slightly, her indifferent gaze sweeping over Luca as if he were nothing more than an insignificant stain.

"Now, scram."

Her voice was ice-cold, devoid of patience, devoid of mercy.

"I don't like filth in my car."

Luca didn't move.

He doubled over, gasping, dragging in each breath like a man who had just escaped death. His throat burned, his lungs felt crushed, and his entire body was numb, unable to rise.

Inside the car, Isla narrowed her eyes, her lips curling upward in impatience.

The air around her felt frozen, so cold it made the skin prickle, the body shudder, without needing to touch her.

"Three..."

Her voice echoed, stretching each syllable like a nightmare with no end.

"Two..."

No sound.

Only dead silence, like an invisible noose tightening around Luca's throat.

"O—"

The countdown never finished—

Luca sprang up like a trapped beast breaking free.

He lunged out of the car, no longer caring about pain, no longer caring about dignity, only knowing he had to run before the monster inside finished counting.

"Plop!"

He stumbled, crashed onto the pavement, his knees slamming against the freezing ground.

But he didn't feel the pain anymore.

Only the lingering terror that still clung to every shuddering breath.

Before Luca could lift his head, the car's engine roared, snarling like a wild beast, then shot forward in an instant, leaving behind a streak of cold red taillights.

The wind rushed past, carrying the scent of blood and fear.

Luca stared blankly, his hands pressed against the asphalt, his body limp, as if all life had drained from him.

He didn't understand what had just happened.

All he knew was—if he had been just a second slower—

He wouldn't be sitting here, breathing.

Luca staggered, gripping the nearby wall for support, trying to stand upright, but his body felt drained of all strength. His legs trembled, each step heavy, as if he were dragging invisible chains across the ground.

The cold wind whipped past, seeping through his clothes, making him shiver—but not from the weather. It was the lingering horror, clinging to him like a shadow he couldn't shake.

It took him a long time to reach the main road. As soon as he did, he flagged down a taxi, collapsing into the seat, his head pressed against the window, breath still ragged.

I'm fine... yeah... I'm fine...

He shut his eyes, trying to push away the terrifying images, but the moment he did, the bloody scene came crashing back—so vivid that the metallic stench seemed to linger in his throat.

Thud!

Luca's eyes flew open as the car jerked to a sudden stop.

He glanced at his watch—Shit! He was late!

The moment he arrived at the office, Luca rushed inside, nearly slamming into the glass doors in his haste. Cold sweat trickled down his neck, his palms damp.

The office was still quiet, but there was an unseen tension in the air, waiting for him.

Fifteen minutes late.

Not a small number for a new employee—especially for someone titled "Employee of the Year."

Luca took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but his heart pounded violently as he stepped into the marketing department.

Every single eye immediately turned to him.

Some narrowed in curiosity. Others curled their lips, as if waiting for an entertaining spectacle.

Luca forced a smile, but it felt stiff, more like a grimace than anything else.

Damn it, why is today starting like this?

Before he could say anything, a stern voice cut through the air, sharp as a knife:

"Luca  , I assume you're well aware of our workplace regulations?"

Luca froze, turning to face his direct supervisor—a middle-aged man with an expressionless face and eyes that pierced through him like a blade.

Luca swallowed hard, bowing slightly as he hurriedly apologized:

"I—I'm sorry. This is my first time... I got lost... and had a bit of an issue..."

But his boss wasn't interested in excuses, immediately cutting him off:

"Issue or not, you're still late. You were chosen as Employee of the Year from all the branch candidates, yet on your very first day, you fail to set an example. How do you think that reflects on you?"

Luca stared down at the floor, sweat trailing down his spine, a mix of shame and something else—something unsettling—boiling inside him.

The room was stifling, everyone holding their breath, waiting to see how he would respond.

But in his ears, the echoes of earlier still lingered—
A head falling.
Blood splattering.
Shallow gasps.
Lifeless eyes.

Luca's fingers curled into a fist, but it didn't stop the slight tremor in his hand.

Am I really here? Or am I still trapped in that nightmare?

Suddenly, a voice broke the tension.

"Oh, come on, boss. It's his first day. He's probably just overwhelmed by the big city."

Luca flinched, turning to see the young woman who had spoken. A fellow colleague, smiling brightly, as if she didn't notice the storm raging inside him.

His boss sighed, his gaze softening just a little, though his tone remained strict:

"Fine. But this is the first and last time. Next time, don't expect leniency."

Luca bowed deeply, his voice grateful but still slightly unsteady:

"Yes, sir. Thank you. It won't happen again."

As his boss walked away, Luca exhaled, but the weight in his chest remained heavy.

The girl from earlier stepped closer, giving him a light pat on the shoulder, teasing:

"You sure know how to make an entrance. Just don't do it again, okay? I won't be able to save you next time!"

Luca forced a smile, nodding. "Thanks."

But the moment the words left his mouth—

A sudden chill crawled down his spine.

Among the warm office chatter, among the normal conversations of his colleagues—

Luca felt it.

A pair of invisible eyes watching him from afar.

The unease inside him swelled, growing stronger, heavier—

Like something terrible was still waiting ahead.

The marketing department buzzed with familiar sounds—the clicking of keyboards, the steady tap of mice, and the brief, clipped exchanges between colleagues. The atmosphere was tense yet eerily smooth, like an undertow beneath a deceptively calm ocean surface.

Until—Knock... knock...

The sound was soft, yet it sent a ripple of stillness through the entire room.

A woman stepped in, poised and composed. The light from the glass-paneled windows behind her stretched her shadow across the tiled floor, casting an indecipherable presence, an unspoken pressure.

"The Director wants to see Luca from Marketing."

Silence.

Luca froze. It felt as though an invisible hand had wrapped around his throat, squeezing just enough to steal his breath.

Those words—simple, concise—yet they sent his world reeling.

The Director...?

The name echoed inside his head. His body locked up, every nerve stretched to the brink. His breath hitched; cold sweat gathered in his palms.

Why does the Director want to see me?

His gaze darted around, searching—begging—for a familiar face, for someone who might explain, or at least reassure him. But all he met were pitying looks, the kind one gives to the condemned before they're led to the gallows.

A colleague sitting near the door shook his head ever so slightly, as if to say:

"You're done for."

Luca's chest tightened, dread swelling so violently inside him that he felt lightheaded.

"I might get fired... on my first day."

The thought struck like a blade, cold and merciless.

This job—it was everything. His only hope.

Losing it would mean losing everything.

Why is this happening?

He fought to steady himself, but his mind wouldn't stop spiraling—replaying every whispered warning he'd seen in the company's internal chat groups.

The stories. The rumors.

About her.

The Director.

They called her "The Ruthless Cleaner." Not because she was tidy—but because she wiped people out like trash.

"She doesn't care how good you are. If you're useless in her eyes, you'll 'disappear' without a trace."

"No one who displeases her lasts more than a month."

"Here, nobody is irreplaceable."

Each sentence drummed into his skull, a relentless echo of fear.

If he got fired... where would he go? What would he do?

This job was everything. Losing it would make him nothing more than a failure.

He couldn't let that happen.

But what could he possibly do, when the power to decide his fate rested entirely in her hands?

Luca swallowed hard, his throat dry as dust, every ounce of moisture sucked away by his fear.

But he had no choice.

He had to face it.

No matter how terrifying it was.

He stood, his legs numb, heavy, as if each step were dragging him closer to his own execution. As he walked past his colleagues, they said nothing—but their watchful eyes followed him, like spectators observing a man walking toward the guillotine.

"I just hope I won't be the next one to 'log out'..."

The thought was bitter, laced with helplessness.

The hallway stretched ahead, cold, vast, and empty, his footsteps echoing through the hollow space—a countdown to an inevitable sentence.

His hands clenched into fists. His heartbeat slammed erratically against his ribs.

And at the end of the hall...

The Director's office awaited.

The door stood slightly open.

The woman who had summoned him motioned silently for him to step inside.

Luca hesitated.

The space before him felt like a bottomless abyss, pulling him in—a void where escape no longer existed. His breath turned ragged, his pulse pounding so fast it nearly drowned out every other sound. His legs trembled, but he forced them forward—like a helpless creature stepping into the lair of its predator.

Clack.

The door sealed shut behind him, severing all possible retreat.

Luca swallowed, trying to calm the storm raging inside his chest.

His gaze remained low, refusing to meet the figure seated behind the desk—as if one wrong glance, one misplaced movement, would send everything crashing down.

Summoning every last shred of courage, he spoke, his voice dry, barely more than a whisper:

"I'm Luca from Marketing. The Director called for me... May I ask why?"

Silence.

No answer.

No reaction.

The air grew heavy—suffocating, stifling, like the very walls had closed in.

Only the sound of fingertips tapping against the desk remained.

Click-clack-Click-clack

A steady, rhythmic beat, cold and detached.

Each sound felt like a hammer striking against his chest, pressing down, inch by inch, until breathing itself became a struggle.

Luca didn't dare lift his head.

Didn't dare breathe too loudly.

Didn't dare show a single crack.

Clack

The chair shifted back.

Heels clicked against the polished floor—each step measured, deliberate, echoing through the stillness.

The footsteps drew closer.

Luca's body locked up, every muscle taut, as though each step sank him deeper into the darkness.

Then—silence.

A pause.

And then...

A voice.

Cold as steel. Sharp as a blade drawn from ice.

"Forgot so soon?"