The Devil Doesn't Bargain | Daerin

32 | Ten Reasons Why

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The meeting is intense. 

We're deep into discussions about the company's future.

Haerin sits at the head of the table, her posture straight. She taps her pen lightly against the polished wood of the conference table, gathering her thoughts before addressing the room.

"Our primary focus," she begins, "is to ensure that the expansion into the international market is seamless. We need to consider every detail, from supply chain logistics to marketing strategies. I want no stone left unturned."

Hyein nods. "The financial projections look promising, but we need to be cautious. Currency fluctuations and economic instability in certain regions could pose risks. We should have contingency plans in place."

I glance at the spreadsheets in front of me, running the numbers in my head. "Logistically, we'll need to coordinate closely with local partners. I've already reached out to several contacts who can help streamline the process."

Haerin looks between us sharply. "Good. I want updates on all fronts by the end of the week. We can't afford any missteps."

Everything is going smoothly until suddenly, a commotion breaks out on the other side of the room.

A young man stands up, his face flushed and his movements erratic. He starts to mutter under his breath, his words slurring together incoherently. 

The room's attention shifts from Haerin to him. Everyone's expressions turn concerned as they murmur to each other.

Haerin pauses, frowning. 

Hyein looks confused, her mouth slightly agape as she tries to process what's happening. 

"They're watching me! They're everywhere! Don't you see them?!" 

The young man's muttering turns into shouting, his body swaying as he steps away from the table. His eyes are wide, unfocused, and his movements are becoming more and more erratic.

Rising from my seat, I walk over to him. He suddenly swings his arm, aiming a wild punch at me. 

But I'm quicker—I catch his wrist mid-air.

"Hey, easy," I say calmly.

I look into his eyes, noticing the dilated pupils and the rapid, shallow breathing. His pulse is racing, his skin clammy to the touch. 

There's something seriously wrong.

He struggles, trying to pull away, but I don't let go. Instead, I guide him to the floor, lowering him gently as he starts to convulse slightly. His body is twitching, his movements becoming more disjointed. 

I kneel beside him, keeping him stable, checking his vitals as best as I can. His pulse is irregular. There's a slight tremor in his limbs.

"Someone call the emergency line," I call out.

One of the board members stands up, his face pale as he suggests, "Should we call the police?"

"No, not the police," I say firmly. "Call an ambulance. Now."

The room goes silent. Everyone looks stunned by my command.