Battle of the immortals

In a northern district of the bustling city lies a vibrant marketplace. Here, amidst the hustle and bustle, vendors proudly display their goods while shoppers weave through the crowded aisles in search of treasures. The air is alive with the sounds of bargaining and the calls of merchants begging for attention.

The scent of spices and cooking food wafts through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee. Colorful outfits flutter in the breeze, adding splashes of brightness to the day as customers examine the display of goods on offer.

The door to the coffee shop quietly creaked open, and Royce Evans slipped in, looking around to make sure nobody noticed him. He kept checking his watch, aware that he was already twenty minutes late for work.

Inside, the coffee shop was cozy and inviting. Small wooden tables and chairs filled the space, with people sitting and chatting over cups of coffee. The air was rich with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, mingling with the sound of soft music playing from a corner. The counter, where a barista worked swiftly preparing drinks, was busy but organized.

"Hold it! I saw you, Royce," Mr. Brent called out, balancing two big packs of coffee in his arms.

Brent Campbell, a seasoned gentleman in his 60s with a rich history deeply rooted in the Marigold Coffee House, inherited the charming structure from his father. Wearing a head of silver hair that spoke of his experience, his eyes still sparkled with the same passion for the coffee business that had been passed down to him by his father. 

Brent gently walked towards Royce, 

"Damn it!" Royce whispered under his breath, a wave of confusion sweeping over him the moment he heard Mr. Brent call his name. He scratched his head, fingers running through his hair, as he watched Mr. Brent place the pack of coffee right in front of him.

"What's your excuse this time?" Mr. Brent asked, crossing his arms and looking directly at Royce, adjusting his glasses, clearly expecting a good explanation.

"Uhmmm..." Royce stammered, desperately searching for the right words to say.

"Yeah? Go on..." Mr. Brent prompted, fixing his gaze on Royce, waiting for an explanation.

"Mr. Brent, I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise. This will be the last time something like this happens," Royce finally managed to say, hoping his words would be enough to smooth things over.

Mr. Brent repeated the same words Royce had just spilled out, mimicking his tone exactly. Royce, fully aware that he was reciting his previous promises, felt a wave of embarrassment.

"This is the fifth time I've heard this same excuse..." Mr. Brent said, his voice trailing off as he shook his head slowly, disappointment written all over his face.

"Okay, you are forgiven, Royce. Go on with your activities," Mr. Brent said, managing a faint smile as he turned to walk away from Royce, his steps echoing in the distance.

With a wide grin, Royce shouted, "Thank you, Mr. Brent!" His relief was evident in the air of the coffee shop.

****

After a long day's work, the time had come for the workers to receive their monthly payments. They were instructed to visit Mr. Brent's office one by one to collect their earnings. As it turned out, Royce was the last to enter Mr. Brent's office.

Upon entering, Mr. Brent greeted him warmly, offering a seat along with a cup of coffee. To Royce's surprise, Mr. Brent then started playing some music, but he didn't speak a word about the payment, he just continued with the paperwork on his desk, while he kept Royce waiting earnestly. This deliberate silence stretched on for thirty minutes, building a suspenseful atmosphere.

Royce, feeling increasingly anxious and sleepy, as he was tired of sitting for so long, dared not break the silence to raise a question about the delay. He just continued sipping his coffee, waiting for Mr. Brent to speak. Finally, breaking the silence, Mr. Brent began to speak in a tone that immediately caught Royce's attention.

"Well done, Royce. You've done a great job this month. You've added great value to this organisation; you deserve the best. I specially reserved the best for you," Mr. Brent announced, his voice carrying a hint of joy.

He then drew out a big brown envelope, which was specially designed and packed with care, and handed it over to Royce. The moment was so unexpected that Royce couldn't help but wear a startled smile, though a part of him suspected there might be a twist or mischief behind Mr. Brent's words.

"I'm honoured, sir, and I hope to do more and be the best as I spend more time in this organisation," Royce replied, his voice filled with gratitude and ambition as he stretched out his hand to receive the envelope. 

"It's my pleasure, Royce. You deserve it," Mr. Brent expressed warmly. After finishing his coffee, Royce tucked the envelope under his arm, stood up from his seat, gently placed the coffee mug on the desk, offered Mr. Brent a gentle wave goodbye, and carefully closed the door behind him as he left.

He hadn't taken many steps outside the office when curiosity got the better of him, urging him to open the nicely packed envelope that Mr. Brent had prepared with such deliberation. Expecting something rewarding, Royce peeled away the first layer only to discover another envelope tucked inside. He was shocked but curious at the same time, he opened the second envelope, but to his surprise, it revealed another envelope.

With each layer opened, it revealed another envelope, and frustration mounted, turning to anger as the process seemed endless. Finally, with a mix of annoyance and desperation, Royce tore through the remaining paper, expecting to find something of substance, only to be met with a short note. The message, written in bold letters, struck him like a bolt of lightning: "YOU ARE FIRED!".

The words "YOU ARE FIRED!" replayed in Royce's mind, stroking his anger. He clenched the note, his knuckles turning white. Feeling a rush of frustration, he imagined confronting someone, almost wishing for a chance to physically vent the tension the letter sparked inside him. In a moment of anger, Royce tore the letter and its envelope into tiny pieces.