A week had passed since the incident in the conference room. Today, the Horizon Arc Building was more than just an office, it was an administrative war zone.
Noah Ryker stood at the head of the room, sporting a tailored suit that cost as much as a mid-level manager's quarterly salary. He was pitching the "rapid execution" project to a group of high-profile foreign investors. Ethan sat in the corner, his steady hands having already built 90% of the technical framework that Noah was now presenting as if it were his own brainchild. Next to him, Tristan nudged his arm. "This is crazy, Ethan. That's the data from last week's research, right?" Tristan whispered under his breath. "Noah really has no shame, talking about your research like it was his idea." Ethan stared at his laptop screen, which displayed the efficiency projection curves. He simply shrugged. "The important thing is that the client is happy and the company hits its targets, Tris. It doesn't matter who's standing at the podium." "Are you a saint or just an idiot?" Tristan shook his head, then shot a cynical sneer toward Ivy wood. She was standing nearby, busy jotting down the names of any staff members who didn't look enthusiastic enough, racking up "loyalty points" for her boss. "Look at Ivy. She’s already gearing up to suck up to Eric once this presentation succeeds. This world doesn't care about genius, it only cares about the 'stage'." Raphael suddenly appeared. He wasn't in some dark corner this time. He was lounging casually in the empty chair right next to Ethan, looking like just another colleague who’d forgotten his ID badge. Raphael rolled his eyes as he watched Noah making grand, persuasive gestures to the investors. "Those hands, Ethan. He should be wearing cheaper cufflinks because he stole your work," Raphael whispered. His tone was cynical and filled with a heavenly scent that didn't fit the printer-ink-smelling office. "How about I make his microphone cable explode with a tiny spark? Not enough to hurt him, just enough to make him stutter for ten minutes. Utterly embarrassing." Ethan held his breath to keep from laughing. He didn't turn his head, his eyes remained fixed on Noah. "That would just make him look like a resilient victim, Raphael. The audience's sympathy would shift to him. That's not a win for me." "You really are the king of the martyrs," Raphael muttered. He snapped his fingers in the air, creating a small optical phenomenon at the corner of the table so that no one else could overhear their conversation. "You know, for thousands of years, I've seen people like you rot in silence. What are you actually hoping for? Does God give extra points for hidden sincerity?" "God has his own standards, Raphael. Your standards might not be counted in promotion points," Ethan replied coldly. Just as Noah reached the climax of the presentation, explaining customer retention, he suddenly glanced at Ethan with a provocative look. Noah knew exactly what he was doing. "And of course," Noah smiled widely at the investors, "this idea wouldn't be possible without the help of the basic research I asked Ethan to prepare quickly at the last minute. Ethan is quite skilled at handling those tedious administrative tasks." The whole room laughed. It was a light, crisp laugh, but an insulting one. Noah had just locked Ethan into the role of an inconsequential assistant, ensuring there was no room for management to give credit to the actual architect. "Oh, that is absolutely shameless!" Raphael stood up, his invisible wings seeming to spread across the ceiling of the conference room. The light particles around him became unstable, causing the office lights to flicker wildly as if they were about to burn out. "Enough. I don't care about your ridiculous principles anymore. I'll turn that glass of water in front of Noah into the most stinging thorn syrup in the world. He'll swallow his pride today!" "Don't you dare, Raphael," Ethan hissed, his fingers gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. "Why? Are you afraid of winning?" Raphael leaned in, his voice like a devil's whisper of virtue. "This world is built on a crooked foundation, Ethan. Fixing a slight tilt with a bit of angelic power isn't a sin. It's just moral infrastructure maintenance!" Ivy wood giggled at the flickering lights, then quickly glanced at Eric Hayes to show off how busy and dedicated she was. Eric himself nodded with satisfaction. He didn't care about the data, he just wanted double-digit growth numbers so he could report back to the corporate headquarters. Ethan turned to Raphael, meeting his gaze with a flat stare. "You're right, the world is crooked. But if I straighten this small part by cheating, doesn't that just make me another part of the world's crookedness? Let it be. Let Noah enjoy the applause that isn't his. That applause doesn't fill anything." "You're really no fun," Raphael sighed loudly, and suddenly his glow dimmed, leaving behind a well-dressed man who looked more bored than any other colleague in the room. "Sometimes I wonder if humans were created to suffer for the sake of an abstract principle called integrity." "Maybe," Ethan replied as he went back to typing, perfecting a section of the report that Noah had forgotten. "You realize, don't you, that Noah just got a 20% bonus for this success? While you stay at the same salary?" Raphael asked again, his tone shifting to a mock concern that felt more like a subtle taunt. Ethan paused for a moment. That 20% meant a lot. It could go toward apartment payments, an emergency fund, or even helping his mother with her mounting medical bills. He felt something sink in his chest, but he quickly suppressed the emotion with rigid discipline. "Yes, I'm aware," Ethan said calmly. "But if I have to steal someone else's success or manipulate things like Noah to get that money, how am I any different from the person I despise right now?" Raphael went quiet. He floated an inch above his chair, watching Ethan intently. "You know, Ethan? I've accompanied many kings, conquerors, and prophets. Not one of them had logic as difficult as yours. They would all take the shortcut if given the chance." "That's because they haven't tried failing consistently, Raphael. Failure teaches us who we really are when we have nothing left to be proud of." After the meeting ended, Eric Hayes walked over to Ethan and Noah. Noah welcomed him with open arms, ready for the praise. Eric only gave Ethan a slight nod. "Ethan, work on next week's project from home. Don't show up at the office too often, you look stressed, and it's affecting staff morale." Ethan nodded obediently. "Understood, sir." Noah patted Ethan’s shoulder again as Eric walked away. "Listen, Ethan. Life is like a game. If you can't use cheats, don't blame the smart players who do use them to win. Learn from your seniors." Noah walked out with a victorious stride. Ethan remained in the same chair. Beside him, Raphael no longer showed anger, only a mysterious smile that held thousands of years of sorrow. "It turns out the world only needs two types of people," Raphael said, vanishing the last of the light in the room. "The cunning ones, and the ones who always give the cunning ones a chance to win." Ethan turned off his monitor, grabbed his bag, and walked out of the room toward the parking lot. That day, he had truly lost. Not just in terms of position, but in recognition before his peers. Still, Ethan walked with a steady stride, looking like the only winner in a building that was slowly imploding from its own web of deceit. Out in the parking lot, Ethan saw Noah already sitting in his luxury ride, ready to head home with a fat bonus in his pocket. Ethan pulled open the door of his beat-up clunker and cranked the engine, which took three tries before it finally sputtered to life. "Man, that is loud," Raphael grumbled, covering his ears. "It sure is," Ethan replied with a slight smirk. "But this engine gets me exactly where I need to go." As the night began to settle in, Raphael finally realized something, Ethan Gray hadn't lost. He had simply chosen not to win anything that wasn't rightfully his. For a man like Ethan, an honest loss was more honorable than a crooked victory.Latest Chapter
Loss Without Ruin
Ethan woke up to sunlight piercing through the gaps in the curtains, hitting him right in the eyes. Normally, this morning should have been cluttered with "You got this, babe!" texts or Megan's rambling about what he needed to buy for breakfast. Today, there was silence. Absolute silence. A silence that, strangely enough, felt like the first breath of fresh oxygen he’d taken in four years. He got up and made the bed with military precision, because discipline was the one thing no one could steal from him. At the doorway, Raphael was already waiting, hovering effortlessly with that annoying, arms-crossed pose of his. "You just lost a girlfriend, a four-year investment, and someone to split the rent with. According to any angel’s calculations, you should be in the middle of a major depressive episode, or at the very least ordering cheap booze online," Raphael teased, his voice dripping with sarcastic humor. "Are we doing the melancholy scene today where you stare out at the rain and
A Conversation Devoid of Emotion
The coffee on the table was still steaming, but the atmosphere in Ethan's living room felt colder than the actual temperature. Megan sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands tightly interlaced, while Ethan stood with his back to her, staring out the window at the soulless concrete skyline. "You're here," Ethan said softly. His voice was flat, devoid of both rejection and longing. Megan took a shallow breath. Her eyes were glassy, yet there was a flicker of hesitation, a reminder that her decision wasn't just impulsivet it was the culmination of a deep-seated fear of poverty she had harbored for a long time. In the corner of the room, Raphael appeared. The angel sat perched on a wall-mounted coat rack, swinging his legs in boredom. He let out a wide yawn, creating a small vortex of energy that sent a few of Ethan's unpaid bills fluttering to the floor. "Is she here to beg for mercy, or to give back that plastic ring?" Raphael whispered with an incredibly sharp, sarcastic edge. "ethan
A Long Time Coming
The apartment door clicked shut with a sharp, heavy sound. Ethan walked in without flipping the switch, greeted only by a suffocating silence. The faint scent of dust and the lingering trace of Megan expensive perfume still hung in the air, a cruel reminder that his "little kingdom" had fallen apart from the inside a long time ago. "Well, congratulations. You are officially single in a place full of miserable memories," Raphael’s voice cut through the dark. The angel was sitting at the dining table, trying to take apart Ethan's toaster with a fork. "By the way, I just read the memories of these walls. Spoiler alert, She’s been emotionally cheating for six months, not just since that dinner." Ethan tossed his dirty blazer onto the couch. "I know." "You knew?" Raphael dropped the fork. The toaster briefly sparked before dying out. "You knew she was two-timing you for six months, and you still took her to that fancy restaurant that drained your savings last night?" Ethan walked to th
The Better Man
The Sky Lounge was dimly lit, designed specifically to highlight the profiles of its wealthy patrons. Noah Ryker poured champagne into Megan’s crystal glass, his movements fluid as if he were performing an expensive piece of choreography. "I’m not saying Ethan is a bad man, Megan," Noah said, his voice a deep baritone. "He’s just a man born in the wrong decade. These days, honesty is just a seasoning for statistics, not a foundation. He’s too... traditional." Megan gripped the stem of her glass until her knuckles turned white. The ivory leather handbag Noah had placed on the empty chair beside her shimmered under the spotlight. It was tangible proof, a physical object that validated her exhaustion. Across the table, Raphael hovered in a seated position, legs crossed. He wore a designer trench coat that had appeared out of nowhere. He sneered as he watched Noah touch Megan’s hand. "Disgusting. I really want to summon a bolt of lightning from behind this building and char that rented
A Heart That Wouldn't Shatter
Ethan stood up, straightened his clothes, and walked out the door toward the old car waiting for him. Nothing had changed at Horizon Arc Building, but for Ethan, the universe had just given a glimmer of proof that doing the right thing, even if it often feels futile, always leaves room for hope.Even if that hope is just a three-day break without having to think about a restless Noah Ryker."Are you still coming along?"Ethan asked as the car door closed."Of course," Raphael muttered from the passenger seat. He was invisible to everyone else, yet he was undeniably there. "I wonder just how far your patience will go before it brings ruin to everyone else.""We'll see," Ethan replied, starting the engine. "For tonight, a good night's sleep is enough.""I'm pretty sure that leather bag costs about three times what it took to replace your radiator, Ethan," Raphael whispered, floating horizontally right above a row of headless mannequins in a high-end boutique.Ethan didn't look over. He
A meaningless little victory
"I found evidence that he's been making fake transactions with the vendor," Ethan said simply. He placed a silver flash drive on his desk, which was cluttered with leftover coffee from the night before. Across from him, Tristan choked on his coffee. "Are you out of your mind? That's the nuclear option, Ethan! If you give this to HR or the CEO, Noah could be blacklisted from the professional world for life. He wouldn't just be fired, he could be looking at embezzlement charges." Raphael appeared casually on top of a filing cabinet. He was wearing an absurd pair of aviator sunglasses, his fingers plucking an imaginary guitar. "Ah, finally! Something that smells like sulfur from your boring sense of compliance. Want me to throw a little bolt of lightning when you hit 'submit' on that report email later? A little heavenly drama to give them a scare?" Ethan didn't respond to Raphael. He just stared at his computer screen, where a draft email addressed to the top brass was already open.
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