Stop using your hearing to eavesdrop on people in the bathroom. It's very rude

On Monday mornings, the Vought building was always filled with a suffocating sense of busyness.

Elites in bespoke suits hurried through the corridors, the air thick with the bitter, roasted scent of coffee beans and expensive perfume.

Lynn sat in his director's office, pen in hand, marking up a long schedule sent over by Public Relations.

The relaxed barbecue party that weekend still felt vivid, but the moment he stepped into this building, he was hit by the greedy air of capital intent on squeezing people dry down to their marrow.

Someone knocked twice on the office's glass door. Then Carter, the deputy head of Public Relations, pushed it open and walked in.

The middle-aged man, who always wore his hair slicked back, had a fawning smile plastered across his face and a thick stack of documents in his arms.

"Good morning, Director Lynn."

Carter set the documents on the spacious desk. "These are the additional engagements for the Vanguard Camp children this week. Merchandise sales have been so good that Marketing wants to strike while the iron is hot and add two talk show tapings for Annie and Tommy. There's also an endorsement shoot for a fast-food brand that needs Reggie to run a few laps."

Lynn didn't look at the stack of documents, only at the schedule in his hand, which he had already marked up beyond recognition.

"I remember setting the rule last week. The Vanguard Camp's daily training and time in front of cameras must never exceed six hours a day."

Lynn put down his pen, his tone even. "The oldest of them is only six. Their bodies are growing, and their minds are still developing. With all these overnight tapings you've scheduled, do you want them to drop dead in the studio, or do you want to watch them have an emotional breakdown and go on a killing spree on live national television?"

Carter's smile stiffened. He rubbed his hands together, trying to explain. "Director, I know it's a little taxing. But this is a business plan approved by the President's Office. If we don't capitalize on their current popularity, we could lose tens of millions in profit. After all, in the company's eyes, they're..."

"In the company's eyes, they're assets. But to me, they're members of my project, and they're also children whose minds haven't matured yet."

Lynn cut Carter off and leaned forward slightly, naturally exuding the pressure that came from having held authority for so long.

"Go back and tell Marketing and the President's Office that every external engagement for the Vanguard Camp requires my signature. If anyone is upset about making a few tens of millions less in profit, have them come to the eighty-eighth floor and see me themselves. I don't mind personally working out the numbers for President Edgar, to see whether draining the pond to catch the fish pays better than casting a long line for a big catch."

Looking into Lynn's calm eyes, which left no room for negotiation, Carter swallowed.

He knew that the seemingly mild-mannered Asian man before him was currently the only person in Vought International who could fully control that little blond monster.

Angering Lynn meant turning the company's biggest money tree against it.

"Understood, Director. I'll pass on your exact words. Those additional engagements are canceled."

Carter wiped the sweat from his forehead and hurried out of the office with the documents in his arms.

The moment the door closed, the door to the lounge inside the office opened.

John walked out wearing a loose, light blue, long-sleeved T-shirt and holding a sketchbook.

His hearing far surpassed that of ordinary people. He had heard every word Carter had said outside, and even Carter's heartbeat speeding up with nervousness, with perfect clarity.

"That man is greedy. He wants to treat Annie and the others like hamsters running around and around."

John walked up to the desk and looked at Lynn with his azure eyes. "You don't like him, right? If you think he's a problem, I can..."

"Stop."

Lynn raised a hand in time to halt the dangerous thoughts in the boy's head, looking at him with some amusement. "John, there are plenty of ways to solve problems in this world. Throwing people out of windows is the one that takes the least skill."

John tilted his head, seemingly giving Lynn's words serious thought.

"Besides, sitting in this position and taking the generous salary the company pays me, dealing with these greedy people is part of my job."

Lynn stood up, took the sketchbook from John's hand, and casually flipped through it. The pages were filled with landscapes drawn in simple lines but bright colors.

Lynn nodded in satisfaction. "Until you can truly stand on your own, until those children learn to protect themselves, I'm your shield. My job is to block every dirty hand Vought International reaches toward you, one by one."

As John looked at Lynn, that inexplicable feeling of reassurance welled up inside him again.

It was completely different from the trembling worship other people offered him. This was a solid, grounded sense of safety.

He didn't have to pretend to be perfect or keep up the bearing of a god at every moment.

As long as he stood in front of this desk, he was a child with someone to protect him.

"Is my drawing good?"

John pointed to the somewhat roughly drawn green lawn in the sketchbook as he asked. It was where they had barbecued yesterday.

"Much better than that superhero you drew last time whose head was crooked."

Lynn smiled and handed the sketchbook back, giving the boy's shoulder a pat. "Come on, let's go downstairs to the activity room and see Annie and the others. Tommy ate too much barbecue yesterday. I wonder if his stomach still hurts today."

"He drank warm water this morning, and his heartbeat is very steady. He probably hasn't had diarrhea."

John earnestly reported what he had picked up with his super hearing.

"Stop using your hearing to eavesdrop on people in the bathroom. It's very rude."

"But doesn't that count as caring about my teammates?"

Chatting on and off, the two pushed open the door and left the office.

In the activity room downstairs, Annie was leaning over a table, drawing a golden retriever with wings using colored pens. Beside her, Reggie was idly flipping through a picture book, with the adhesive bandage John had put on his leg yesterday still in place.

Sunlight streamed through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, lending the cold room that belonged to Vought International a little of the warmth of an ordinary kindergarten.