Faysal stared at the screen, fist wedged firmly under his chin. The names and numbers his eyes darted over were nearly as familiar with his own name; the list included the new shipments of ingredients and chemicals coming in, batches of medication and other drugs Mizu expected to export. His work was fairly mundane despite being, in part, illegal. A majority of his work went toward legitimate causes, so he tried to avoid thinking about the parts that didn’t. Considering his father was higher in the company and his pay could sustain a comfortable lifestyle, Faysal couldn’t complain about the more unsavory parts of the organization, even if he wanted to.

Turning toward the knock on his door, Faysal frowned. As it opened, a dark-haired woman popped her head in. “Meeting in ten. You coming?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it. What’s it about?” Saving his work, Faysal powered down his station to follow her out. Handing over the agenda, she pointed to a few of the bullet points as they walked. To his surprise, every department had a place on the sheet. “Special assignments? Really?”

“From what I’m hearing, our CEO is back! And Yoshino-sama has some pretty big plans.”

Confused, Faysal jerked his head up. The name didn’t sound familiar. The last time he’d dealt with the owner had been right after he’d started as a fresh out of college twenty-two-year-old. He vaguely remembered his father introducing them to each other, telling the businessman about how he’d graduated before returning to Japan. Outside of a few dubious questions, he couldn’t remember much about the meeting.

“Like what?” he asked. Her head whipped around to give him a wide-eyed stare. Faysal gestured hopelessly, bringing his free hand up with a shrug. “People don’t loop in the lab rats, and my father… ah… well, he’s been busy. Catch me up.”

“There’s not much to catch up on. You know those agents he was running from before? They’re after him again. I’m not sure why everyone is worried about a few glorified police officers, though…” She looked thoughtful. “Supposedly, they have a pretty long history with dear old boss, though. I wonder what they did to piss each other off?”

“In fairness, cops and robbers don’t get along very well.” He smiled, her laughter echoing in the otherwise empty hallway. He held open the doors to the elevator for her to pass through. “I don’t understand what that has to do with us, though. What am I going to do?”

“Maybe it’s something with your father. I’ve been hearing the boss is pulling in people close to his circle, so…”

“So, whatever this is about, he doesn’t trust the normal riffraff to handle it…” As Faysal mulled over the thought, they lapsed into silence. He almost never left his lab, everything he ever needed being in it for his day-to-day responsibilities, and he couldn’t imagine what their founder could want with him. The elevator hummed as it passed each floor, coming to a stop with a ding. Faysal barely noted the bland white walls once they’d exited. What little art that hung on them was so boring and forgettable that it nearly blended in. He let his gaze shift back to the paper in his hand. Approaching the room, they glanced at each other. “Well, I suppose we’re about to find out. Ready?”

“As much as we can be.”

They entered, finding seats at the table to wait. The chair at the head of the table looked newer than the rest, the black leather not showing a single scratch on the material. Folders and papers dotted the top of the table, the flutter of shuffling notes filling the room as the attendees reviewed them. The remaining chairs rapidly filled, one by his very own father. Sitting across from each other, father and son shared a glance, acknowledging each other with silent nods. Unlike many other staff members in attendance, they didn’t speak to one another unless absolutely necessary; it’d been part of their agreement when Faysal started working in the lab, his father impressing on him the importance of maintaining professional separation. The times they broke it were few and far between, and only when there wasn’t any risk of a superior coming in.

The door slammed open, an older man storming into the room. Faysal snapped his mouth shut, his question about how the others were doing dying on his tongue. He stood as everyone scrambled out of their seats, heads bowed respectfully to the gentleman tearing past them with one of their normal supervisors in tow.

Subtly tilting his head to look, Faysal thoughtfully considered how the elder held himself. With slicked back gray hair and a sharp suit, he made for an intimidating sight. Faysal lowered his head, his eyes glued to the wood table to keep from watching him.

The supervisor spoke up once complete silence fell over the room. “Greetings to our founder, Yoshino Nobutaka, on his safe return.”

Murmured greetings went around the table in a wave. Faysal’s brow furrowed. He swore that wasn’t the name the man had given him back then, yet it was clearly the same man. Everything from his demeanor to his manner of dress had remained the same, even the various wrinkles in his face appeared unchanged. Wondering how their leader could change his identity, yet continue to run the company, he made a mental note to ask about it as soon as he got a moment alone with his father.

Nobutaka’s face twisted into an annoyed scowl. “Enough.” The room fell silent once more. Sitting down at the head of the table, he gestured for everyone to sit. Clothing rustled as everyone situated themselves. “Listen carefully, because we have several important subjects to go over and I have no intention of repeating any of it. Start with the operational updates. Where is Mizu at currently?”

One by one, each department leader explained their operations in minute detail. From the lowliest maintenance department to the highest administrative one, they fell under his scrutinizing gaze as they explained how the company ran. Nobutaka stopped them when a particular department tried to speak, his face hardening. “Shut up,” he muttered coldly, motioning to the next one to continue.

Faysal sank a bit into his chair, peeking at his father with concern. He didn’t know why, but an unsettled nervousness sank into every fiber of his being as the tension-filled silence wore on. Darting a look down the table to catch the defeated look of the silenced supervisor, he jerked back. Once yet another supervisor started speaking, one of his peers whispered under their breath to another coworker, “I heard he was embezzling from the company. I can only imagine what he’ll do to him.”

Faysal didn’t want to ask, but curiosity got the better of him as they whispered to each other. He nudged the one that initially spoke under the table. He waited until the man’s eyes glanced toward him to speak up. “Like what?” He kept his eyes faced toward the front of the room. He suspected he knew the answer; his father always gave evasive answers about what he did for Mizu, and the lack of a proper response left enough room for him to imagine the possibilities. Feeling an elbow in his side, he glanced over to see the man mouth ‘Stabbed?’ at him.

Faysal made a face. It aligned with what he assumed could be the case, but he hadn’t expected someone to be so blatant about it. He shook his unease off, struggling to focus on the other departments’ continued check-ins. When his came up, Faysal frowned. His supervisor, a nervous sort of man that shook like a leaf as he explained their work, paused part of the way through his report to praise him for his most recent findings. An entire shipment of mis-formulated medications had to be pulled after he’d found a batch that could have killed someone had they taken it.

Through most of the reports, Nobutaka stared ahead, stony faced. Each update was mundane at best, only one or two eliciting a disapproving grunt from him until they heard about that situation. Faysal grimaced when the elder man glowered. He expected to be torn to shreds; from his understanding, the income lost because of that mistake had been substantial. Instead, he received the vaguest hint of a nod from Nobutaka before the spotlight moved onto the next department.

As the last one came to a stuttering end, Nobutaka waved a hand. “Very well. If you’re not part of the special agenda, get out.”

The otherwise silent space filled with the sound of fleeing footsteps as the room emptied. Faysal moved to stand, pausing when his father nodded down at his chair. They didn’t exchange words, but his father’s order was clear enough without them. Why, Dad? What could he want with me? Growing increasingly uncomfortable, he settled back into his seat.