A sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided into the compound of Zenith Communications, its engine purring like a beast just released from its cage. The tires hissed against the marble driveway, polished to mirror perfection until now.
The security guard barely blinked before tapping a quick message on his earpiece to the front desk.
He said in a low voice, hurrying, "He's here."
That message shot through the building like a fire alarm.
From the front desk to the executive floor, it traveled like gospel.
"The devil god is in the building. The demon lord is here."
Panic spread. Chairs were straightened. Papers realigned. Trash bins were emptied and wiped again. Even already spotless desks were cleaned twice.
It did not matter that everything looked perfect. Perfection was never enough. Not for him.
Upstairs, the executive floor felt like the first five minutes of a zombie outbreak. Phones dropped. Heels clicked. People scrambled like their lives depended on it. Because in a way, they did.
Outside, a suited assistant rushed forward, bowing as he opened the Rolls-Royce back door.
And then he, the so-called demon lord, stepped out.
First, one polished shoe touched the marble. The kind of black leather that did not just shine, it blinded. Then came the rest of him. Tall. Composed. Deadly. Dressed in a navy blue suit tailored so perfectly it looked stitched into his skin. His white shirt was spotless. His black tie aligned with surgical precision. Not a wrinkle. Not a crease.
Hair slicked back. Jaw sharp. Eyes like winter, beautiful, cold, and merciless.
One look at his handsome face and women would forget their husbands.
One meeting and rival CEOs would rethink their careers.
One glance and a female client would be ready to pay without negotiation.
Behind him, five assistants followed in silent formation, each holding a clean white handkerchief. One for the elevator. One for the door handle. One in case he spotted dust. One for emergencies. And one just in case the first four failed.
The glass doors opened. Staff lined the hallways like guards waiting for royalty. No one dared breathe too loudly. His presence was heavy, suffocating, and intoxicating.
He walked. They bowed.
Halfway down the hall, he stopped.
Everyone behind him froze instantly. Silence fell like a sword.
"What? Why did he stop? What is he doing here today? This is not even his office floor," one lady muttered, shaking her head as she bowed.
He turned dramatically, eyes locking on a male employee whose tie was slightly crooked, barely noticeable to a normal human. But he was not normal.
He stepped closer. The employee visibly trembled.
Without a word, he reached out, fixed the man's collar, and smoothed the tie in place. His hands moved with quiet authority. Then he spoke, voice calm, deep, and final.
"You represent my company the moment you wear that tag. Take pride in your appearance or find another place to work."
He stepped back. The man nodded furiously, his knees nearly buckling. Then he walked on.
As he approached the elevator, one assistant stepped forward and gently wiped the button with a handkerchief before he touched it. The elevator doors parted like they knew who was coming.
He stepped in. The team followed. The doors closed.
Not a word was spoken until the elevator reached the top.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing the top floor, Executive Level. Polished floors. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Silence that held its breath.
He stepped out.
His gaze swept the corridor like a scanner. His assistants fell into formation behind him. A single misaligned chair or a smudge on a glass wall did not escape him. He corrected everything himself.
He stopped in the hallway, stretching his hands backwards as if expecting something but did not get it.
"Where is my 9 AM report?" His voice was calm but laced with a steel edge.
A junior assistant rushed forward, holding a tablet. "I had an issue this morning, so I was just about to…"
"Too late," he cut in, not even turning around. "You had one job and you should dedicate all your time to it. Do not use your delays to affect others. Everyone here is busy. If you cannot get your work done then leave. This place is not where you bring your issues. Your time here is over. You are fired."
The man froze. "Sir, please…"
"Security will escort you. Do not waste my oxygen with excuses."
An assistant was already dialing HR.
The rest of the staff stood frozen, too afraid to blink.
He turned to his executive assistant. "Where is Evelyn?"
"She is in the conference room, sir."
He took another glance at his wristwatch. His jaw clenched. "It is 9:15 now. She was supposed to schedule the investor call for 8:45. Not 9:15. Why is she in the conference room now?"
"She said there was a…"
He raised a hand. Silence.
He strode toward the conference room.
Inside, Evelyn, late twenties, confident, dressed in heels that clicked with authority, stood beside the screen nervously checking her tablet.
He entered.
"Evelyn," he said, voice smooth, "you have worked here for five years."
"Yes, sir," she replied, forcing a smile.
"And in those five years, how many times have I tolerated incompetence?"
"None," she whispered.
He nodded once. "And yet here we are. Do you also have an issue? Why do you all keep having one issue after another? Is this issue jobless that it had to visit you all today?"
Her face paled.
"You were told 8:45. Not 9:15. My investors were waiting."
"Sir, the call platform crashed and…"
He stepped forward. "Was that the only option? Should you not have cross-checked everything earlier? You are efficient, but made a great mistake and since this is your first mistake in the last five years, though you do not deserve a second chance, lucky for you I am in a good mood today. You will not be fired, so go to HR and ask for more tutoring."
"Sir…"
He turned away before she could respond.
To him, people were not employees. They were either assets or liabilities. Time spent together did not matter. Days you had been doing great did not matter. What he wanted was never to see mistakes, even once. Those that made mistakes were liabilities, and liabilities were removed.
Outside the conference room, the staff pretended to look busy, typing at full speed though their screens had not changed in ten minutes.
As he passed, no one dared make eye contact or breathe too loud because you did not make a sound in front of the demon god so he would not sacrifice you for the day.
He finally entered his office, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Outside, the employees slowly exhaled, letting out the breath they had been holding for long. Knees shaking, hearts still racing.
Some silently cursed behind him. Others made faces at his back.