Rain fell again that evening, the kind that painted the streets in silver threads. The city’s pulse slowed after dusk, yet the air around the abandoned train terminal throbbed with quiet tension. The Imperial Crest glimmered miles away, untouched by the weather, a world of chandeliers and laughter. Here, the concrete walls were streaked with rust and graffiti, and the wind hissed through broken windows.John Raymond stood under the half-collapsed roof of the platform, his hands buried in the pockets of his worn jacket. Each sound made him alert: a distant car horn, dripping water, a train’s faint echo from far down the line. He checked his watch. It was nine o’clock exactly.He did not know why he had come. Curiosity, perhaps, or desperation. Maybe both. The voice on the phone had carried authority, calm and deliberate, and something inside him had whispered that ignoring it would mean silencing the last chance to understand who he truly was.A beam of light sliced through the darknes

Morning sunlight spread across the city, painting the skyline in gold. The Imperial Crest Hotel shimmered in the early light, its glass walls reflecting a perfection that only money could maintain. To the guests arriving that day, it was a sanctuary of elegance. To John Raymond, it had become a chessboard.He arrived through the staff entrance before seven, wearing his bellhop uniform once more. The familiar scent of polish and detergent greeted him. Everything looked the same, yet every detail felt different. Each sound, every order barked by a supervisor, every whisper of gossip among the workers—he absorbed it all. For the first time, he saw not routine but structure: a living system of control, loyalty, and corruption.Mr Harrison stood near the reception desk, inspecting the staff with his usual grim expression. He noticed John at once. “Raymond,” he said, voice cutting through the noise. “You are assigned to assist the finance office today. They are short-staffed for the upcomin

The next morning brought fresh storms of anxiety. Harrison summoned the finance team at dawn. He stood by the window of his office, staring out at the rain.“Someone in this department is incompetent,” he snapped. “Documents do not vanish on their own.”Miss Anabel spoke carefully. “Sir, I have the ledgers ready for recheck.”“I asked for the receipts, not ledgers,” he said coldly.At that moment, John stepped in holding a folder. “Excuse me, sir. I found these behind one of the cabinets in the archive room.”Harrison spun around. “What?”John handed him the folder. “They must have fallen behind during filing.”Harrison snatched it, flipping through the papers. His expression flickered between relief and suspicion. “How convenient,” he murmured.“I thought you should have them immediately,” John said.Harrison stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Good work. You may go.”John turned to leave, but he could feel the man’s gaze burning into his back. He had just placed th

The night wrapped the Imperial Crest in silence. Rain had stopped hours ago, leaving the streets below slick and shining. Inside, the hotel glowed under soft amber lights, a sleeping giant unaware of the man moving quietly through its veins.John Raymond wore plain black; the uniform jacket was replaced with a dark shirt. The silver key card Shack had given him rested in his hand, its emblem catching faint reflections from the hallway lights. The air was cool, humming faintly with the sound of distant generators. Every footstep seemed too loud.He reached the basement service corridor, where only a few cleaning staff worked this late. He passed unnoticed, carrying a maintenance clipboard as a disguise. The elevator to the lower vault level required executive clearance; he swiped the card. A green light blinked, and the doors slid open.When they closed behind him, the descent began. The elevator moved more slowly than usual, humming through layers of concrete. His reflection in the me

The morning sun spilt through the tall glass windows of The Imperial Crest, painting the marble floors in streaks of gold. The lobby had never looked more perfect. Every chandelier gleamed, every uniform shone. The scent of polished wood and jasmine candles filled the air. Yet beneath that immaculate beauty lay tension so thick it hummed.The board’s inspection had begun.John Raymond stood near the rear of the grand hall, dressed in a crisp black suit. He looked nothing like the bellhop he once was. His hair was neatly brushed back, his expression unreadable. The staff hurried about, whispering nervously as the members of the corporate board entered one by one. Among them was a tall, silver-haired man in a grey suit—Mr Shack, now officially representing the audit committee.Harrison moved to greet them, his smile too wide. “Gentlemen, welcome to The Imperial Crest. It is an honour to host you.”The chairman, Mr Dalton, nodded curtly. “We hope this visit will reaffirm our trust in you