In the days that followed, Gisela felt like she was going crazy.
"Miss Meinhardt. Why is this file mislabeled?"
"It… must've been a filing error. I'll fix it right away."
"Fix it faster. And double-check the system next time."
The next day, it happened again.
"Miss Meinhardt. Why aren't these timestamps aligned?"
"I'm sorry. I'll correct them."
"You apologize often. Learn to prevent errors instead."
Another morning came.
"Miss Meinhardt. Why does this chart look like a child drew it?"
"I… I thought the layout was acceptable—"
"You thought wrong. Redo it."
Every morning, she arrived at her desk determined to avoid drawing attention. Yet somehow, Klaus always found a reason to summon her. It became a pattern so consistent that she began to brace herself the moment she entered the building.
"Miss Meinhardt. Why is this number rounded?"
"I assumed it wouldn't affect—"
"You thought. You assumed. Is your brain functioning correctly?"
