Read The Infinite Game :: Meeting

The evening conference room was steeped in half-light, illuminated only by the soft glow of a massive chandelier made of dark glass. Its light, spilling across the polished marble table, lent a theatrical air to the proceedings. Around the table sat figures in expensive suits, each embodying power and influence.

“This isn’t the first time,” intoned a man with graying temples, leaning back in his chair. His voice was heavy and measured, like an iron hammer. “That man with the blindfold intervened again. He crushed our operatives, derailed the operation, and left us empty-handed.”

“How does he do it?” A younger man with sleeked-back hair nervously drummed his fingers on the table. “We invest millions into technology, networks, planning… and he just shows up and ruins everything.”

“Because he thinks like a predator,” someone spoke from the shadows, their voice cold and confident, like ice on the edge of melting. “And you think like businessmen. That’s the difference.”

Amid the soft rhythm of fingernails tapping against the lacquered surface, a mocking voice broke through:

“Ah, men and their eternal race for dominance.” A woman with sharp cheekbones and crimson lips tilted her head slowly. Her eyes sparkled with amusement at the sight of their failure. “Perhaps it’s time to admit he’s more than just a random zealot?”

“We realized that after the first operation,” growled a broad-shouldered man, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “But now he’s a personal problem. And problems require hard solutions.”

“Hard solutions?” The woman scoffed, her smile thin and dangerous. “You want to play cat-and-mouse with someone who thinks five moves ahead? I wonder who’ll be the mouse this time.”

“He has strange abilities,” a quiet voice added from the far end of the table. “Unnatural. He moves as if predicting every attack. Bullets don’t touch him. People swear they’ve seen him vanish and reappear where he shouldn’t be.”

Silence hung for a moment, like held breath, until the eldest voice broke it:

“He’s no mirage. He has a purpose. If he’s standing in our way, it means his goals oppose ours — directly. We don’t know his weaknesses, but that’s temporary. Every hero has a flaw.”

“More philosophy.” The woman leaned forward, her smile gleaming with menace. “I have a better idea. Let’s give him what he wants — on our terms. Make him the hero of a choice. Force him to decide who among the hostages matters more. Let’s see how strong his principles really are.”

“If he breaks?” someone murmured, furrowing their brow. “Then what?”

“Then he’ll be ours.” Her smile stayed razor-sharp. “And if not — well, heroes die, too.”

The sharp clatter of heavy boots shattered the tense atmosphere. The door swung open, and a young man with a blindfold walked in. His light stride and faintly amused half-smile cut through the simmering tension like a blade.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he said calmly, as though a dozen dangerous gazes weren’t fixed on him. “The discussion seems to have taken a fascinating turn.”

“Ah, our elusive guest,” the woman drawled, her voice playing with him like a cat with a toy. “Finally, you’re here. We have much to offer — and you, much to lose.”