In the wide office of an esteemed CEO stood Jean, the owner of Story Lab.
"So, I heard you have been bringing in useless shrimps inside the premolar room."
Jean froze, a shiver running down his spine. He chuckled nervously. "It isn't like that," he said. "I only take important people there."
"That's not what I heard," the man said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You know that I have eyes everywhere inside Saliva."
Jean cast his gaze to the ground.
Then, the man stood from his seat, inserting both hands into his pockets. "The only reason I let you inside that bar is because we're related," he continued, not even bothering to look at Jean.
Jean didn't dare look up to the imposing man.
"If it weren't for that, you wouldn't even be able to go in. You have broken our promise."
Jean lifted his head, feeling fear run through his veins. "This—this doesn't mean what I'm thinking, right?"
