Rules and Fangs

Brother Kun's inflammatory words still echoed in the oppressive hall. The string of tempting numbers and the description of a "bright future" were like the forked tongue of a venomous snake, stirring up a distorted hope in the hearts of some. However, the smile on his face slowly faded at this moment, like the tide receding to reveal the cold, hard reef beneath.

"However—" he drawled, the transition word like a bucket of ice water poured over his heart, which had just begun to warm up.

With his hands behind his back, Brother Kun strolled to the edge of the platform, looking down at the group of newcomers whose expressions had become tense again. His gaze was sharp as a knife, sweeping across their faces one by one.

"The company pays you all a living, provides food and lodging, and offers high salaries; we didn't invite you here to freeload and enjoy a life of luxury." His voice turned cold, carrying a metallic quality and undeniable authority. "There are rules here. The most important rule is performance."

He held up one finger. "Every month, the company will set specific performance targets based on your team and business type. These are hard targets, the red lines!"

"Achieving over 90% of the target," Brother Kun's face broke into a smile again, but it only lasted for a moment, "Excellent! In addition to the commission you're entitled to, there's an extra bonus at the end of the month, a meal, and even... the chance to get a short break." He deliberately emphasized the last point, which was undoubtedly a huge temptation for someone who had lost their freedom.

"Complete 70% to 90%, that's satisfactory. You'll receive your base salary and commission in full." His tone was calm, as if this were just the most basic requirement.

"Complete 50% to 70%..." Brother Kun's tone suddenly turned cold, and his eyes became chilling. "Then I'm sorry. The company doesn't support idlers, much less useless people. Electric baton, or caning, choose one." He spoke casually, as if choosing between coffee and tea. But everyone remembered the blue and white arcs of electricity on the beach and the screams of flesh being torn apart, and couldn't help but shudder.

"Complete 20% to 30%..." Brother Kun paused, his gaze sweeping intentionally or unintentionally over the few "veteran employees" with missing toes, and slowly uttered two words: "Water dungeon."

The sound of keyboards seemed to freeze for a moment in the lobby. Among the "veteran employees" who had been typing numbly, one trembled almost imperceptibly, a deep fear flashing in his eyes. The newcomers exchanged bewildered glances. A water dungeon? What was that?

Brother Kun didn't explain, but the cruel, cat -Rat smile in his eyes said it all. It was definitely not as simple as taking a cold shower.

"As for those below 20%..." Brother Kun drew out his words, then suddenly raised his right hand and made a clean, sharp downward chopping motion.

"Chop off the toes."

His voice wasn't loud, but it exploded in everyone's ears like thunder. Several newcomers with weaker mental fortitude almost collapsed to the ground, their legs giving way. The bloody and gruesome scene on the beach instantly flashed before their eyes again, mingling with the atmosphere of despair that filled the hall, making them want to vomit.

Brother Kun seemed quite satisfied with the effect he had created. He stepped off the platform and slowly walked down the aisle between the computer desks. His leather shoes clicked on the concrete floor, making a sound that seemed to strike the hearts of everyone present.

"Also, there's a three-month probation period." He said as he walked, his voice carrying clearly through the clatter of keyboards, "If you get zero sales for three consecutive months..."

He stopped, turned around, and gave a smile that was almost benevolent, yet chilling:

"The company will 'fire' you. Of course, 'fire' here doesn't mean letting you go," he chuckled. "It means 'selling' you to another company. The price, well, depends on your physical condition and remaining value."

Sold? Sold like merchandise? The newlyweds stared in horror.

"If you still can't generate results at the next company after three months," Brother Kun shrugged, looking helpless, "Then you'll just have to sell to the next one. And so on, until..."

His smile vanished completely, his eyes becoming empty and cold, as if he were narrating something distant and unrelated to himself.

"Until you're sold to a place where you can't be sold anymore. Like— Myawaddy."

This word was like a red-hot branding iron, searing the hearts of all the slightly smuggled immigrants. Even the most ignorant could sense the extreme terror this word represented from Brother Kun's tone and the sudden increase in fear among the "veteran employees" around him.

"There, you'll find the largest and most 'professional' human organ trafficking organization in the area," Brother Kun's voice was eerily calm. "Once you get there, you're no longer 'employees,' but... goods. They're sold piecemeal—hearts, livers, spleens, lungs, kidneys, corneas, skin, bone marrow... they're always worth something. This is the final, and only, 'end of life' for those who haven't made any sales."

Dead silence.

A suffocating silence enveloped the entire hall. Only the tireless clatter of keyboards continued, but at this moment, the sound seemed more like an unending requiem for countless fallen souls.

Brother Kun admired the utter despair, hopelessness, and even collapse on everyone's faces, as if he were admiring his own masterpiece. Fear was the best control tool here.

"Furthermore," he held up a finger, his tone becoming lighter yet more cruel, "Don't harbor any unrealistic fantasies, such as—escaping."

He raised his arm and pointed to various corners of the ceiling. The newlyweds looked in the direction he pointed and saw a dense array of cameras, like countless cold eyes, covering every corner of the hall, every row of computers, and every aisle without any blind spots.

"24/7, 360-degree, no-blind-spot surveillance. Including your future dorm rooms, including the bathrooms—yes, just like you're thinking, no privacy, no blind spots." Brother Kun's voice was mocking. "Here, you have no secrets."

Then, his finger moved to the people slowly walking down the aisles in the lobby. They were dressed in uniform dark uniforms, with batons, stun guns, and walkie-talkies hanging from their waists. Their eyes were like those of hawks, constantly scanning everyone sitting in front of their computers. Occasionally, they would stop behind someone, stare at the screen for a while, or gently poke those who seemed to be slacking off with their batons.

"See them?" Brother Kun asked. "Internal security. They're specifically in charge of 'internal security.' Their eyes are sharper than security cameras."

His gaze suddenly turned fierce. "If anyone tries to escape and is caught... heh heh."

He didn't describe it in detail, but only squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth:

"Electrocution, whipping, water torture, and toe amputation—the complete package. Guaranteed to make you regret ever being born, yet you'll be begging for death."

He paused, then added, "If you're 'lucky' enough not to be killed on the spot, then what awaits you next is immediate 'firing'—being sold to Myawaddy. The company doesn't keep useless people, much less traitors."

All the newcomers, including the one or two whose eyes had previously gleamed with greed, now felt as if they had fallen into an ice cave, their faces filled with endless fear and bewilderment. Before them lay the allure of "high salaries," behind them the ultimate threat of torture and hellish conditions, and in between, airtight surveillance and menacing bodyguards... This was nothing short of a meticulously designed, inescapable steel cage!

Looking at these new "employees" whose defenses had been completely shattered and who were like lambs to the slaughter, Brother Kun finally showed a truly "satisfied" smile. He clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention back to himself.

"Alright, I've explained the company's basic information, rules and regulations, and reward and punishment measures." He stood in front of everyone, spreading his hands to appear democratic and open. "Now... does anyone have any questions?"

His gaze swept over the crowd with an oppressive intensity. Most people lowered their heads in fear, not daring to meet his eyes, let alone ask him questions. The air seemed to freeze.

However, amidst this deathly silence and submission, a figure calmly took a step forward.

It's K.

He had been standing at the back of the crowd, so silent that his presence was almost unnoticed. But now, his step was like a pebble thrown into a sticky swamp, creating ripples.

Brother Kun's gaze instantly locked onto him, and that formulaic smile reappeared on his face. But deep in his eyes, not a trace of false smile remained, only a cold scrutiny and a hint of displeasure at being offended. In this kind of place, at this kind of time, the person who steps forward often means trouble.

"You?" Brother Kun looked K up and down, at this unusually quiet young man who hadn't shown any particular interest the whole way. "What's wrong with you?"

All eyes were on K. There was surprise, confusion, and even more pity and fear, as if wondering, "Is this guy crazy?" Even the "veteran employees" who were numbly typing away had a few people secretly glancing over out of the corner of their eyes.

K raised his eyes, meeting Brother Kun's icy gaze. His face remained expressionless, as calm as a bottomless pool. Then, he opened his mouth and, word by word, clearly and steadily, uttered five words:

"I don't do telecom fraud."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a thunderclap, striking the deathly silent and oppressive hall for the second time.

Brother Kun's fake smile froze completely.