The clock in the room ticked away as Jonas casually pulled over a coat and draped it around himself.
The office's Climate Control System had malfunctioned, causing the indoor temperature to plummet.
He had spent the entire night handling documents concerning the Alt District. Only when the morning breeze blew into the office, bringing a hint of chill, did Jonas notice.
He rubbed his temples, as though trying to ease the fatigue of staying up all night.
Just as Jonas had suspected, the old bastards on the Wetting Conglomerate's board of directors were indeed up to no good.
They claimed they were offering compensation for the Alt District incident, but all they offered were massive contracts that the district currently lacked the capacity to handle.
No wonder people said those old bastards were as cunning as foxes... Even Jonas had to concede defeat when it came to shamelessness on this scale.
But since they had already served up the benefits on a platter, there was no reason to hand them away.
His fingers tapped against the desktop as a preliminary plan for absorbing these resources took shape in his mind.
With a casual wave of his hand, all the information concerning the Alt District vanished from before him.
Jonas propped up his head, finally feeling drowsiness wash over him.
Birdsong drifted in from outside the window as the first rays of morning sunlight spilled into the office.
After working all night, Jonas finally could not hold out any longer. He narrowed his eyes, yawned, and rested his head on the desk for a nap.
A breeze swept past, and the coat draped over him slipped to the floor.
Seemingly unaware, he curled in on himself a little, his black shirt looking rather thin.
The clock kept ticking.
Meanwhile, the floor indicator above the elevator outside the office began to change.
At last, the elevator stopped on the floor where Jonas's office was located.
The elevator doors slowly opened, revealing Eiffel. Before she had even stepped out, she began her report:
"Mr. Jonas, the new financial rep... for the Alt District..."
She abruptly stopped mid-sentence. Seeing Jonas fast asleep, Eiffel could not help staring in surprise.
Only after a long moment did she recover, instinctively moving more quietly.
Jonas rarely showed this side of himself in front of her. Mr. Scumbag usually only let his true feelings show when he was enjoying himself.
This was the first time Eiffel had seen Jonas completely unguarded, and a strange feeling rose in her heart.
For one fleeting moment, she actually wanted to pinch his cheeks.
Eiffel shook her head, banishing the thought.
She had only taken two steps when she stopped, as though noticing something.
Eiffel looked toward the window behind Jonas. The leaves in the hanging planter swayed gently in the morning breeze.
Feeling a slight chill in the air, she frowned.
Was the Climate Control System broken?
She turned back to Jonas. Wearing only a shirt, he looked rather inadequately dressed.
After hesitating briefly, she walked over, picked up the fallen coat, and draped it over him again.
Once that was done, she walked over to the windowsill and closed the window.
If he catches a cold, there'll be no one to oversee the Alt District's recovery.
Eiffel found a reason to care about Jonas and used it to convince herself.
She took a deep breath and placed the documents she had intended to report on atop the desk.
Watching Jonas sleep soundly, Eiffel spoke softly, almost despite herself:
"Sweet dreams... Mr. Scumbag."
Unfortunately, no one answered her.
Jonas woke up under the effects of a backache debuff.
Outside the window, night was settling in.
A little annoyed at his own lack of self-control, Jonas held his neck and rolled his head.
The aches all over his body made Jonas wonder whether a succubus had secretly drained his vitality while he slept. Despite getting plenty of sleep, he felt as though he had spent the entire night wrestling with seven girls.
He sat up straight. At some point, a document had appeared before him: a financial report on the Alt District.
Only then did Jonas remember that these were the materials he had instructed Eiffel to collect.
He looked around, but there was no sign of her.
Had she left after dropping off the documents?
Jonas noticed that it had grown considerably warmer. The Climate Control System must have been restored. He turned his head and happened to catch sight of the windowsill with its hanging spider plant.
Someone had closed the window at some point.
Jonas paused, then quickly pieced together what had happened and could not help smiling.
Just what I'd expect from Miss [Butler].
He turned his attention back to the documents before him. The thick stack would probably take another entire night to sort through.
At the thought, Jonas could not help sighing.
Somehow, being a capitalist feels even more exhausting than being an employee.
Whatever. Time to get to work.
Sterlt District.
The burly, red-haired man listened to the news on television, his expression grim.
The situation in the Alt District had been fully resolved, but for him, certain things were only just beginning.
Ever since his last meeting with Jonas, Ian Strala had spent every day on edge.
On one hand, he feared that the Destiny Organization would discover he had become a turncoat. On the other, he worried that the Wetting Conglomerate would dispose of him once he had outlived his usefulness.
None of these major conglomerates ever kept their word. Ian Strala knew that all too well.
But he had no other choice... Ian Strala feared death, and he knew exactly what would happen to him if he refused their demands.
Rather than die outright, he would cling to whatever life he could.
Beep, beep.
The email notification instantly snapped Ian Strala to attention.
He looked at the new message in his personal inbox, his fist involuntarily clenching before falling open again, powerless.
Ian Strala felt a little excited, but also nervous and afraid.
It was an email from the Destiny Organization, and its contents were exceedingly simple: just two words.
Commence operation.
Before you continue