In a corridor that appears to be painted with an unusual blend of brown and red with no perfect symmetry to be observed, a figure could be seen walking with measured steps. His destination, the last room on the right side.
"I hate this place."
The masked man grumbled while walking toward the room. Every time he came here, it was like dancing on the edge of life and death for no apparent big reason.
Each time he looked at those walls around him, his mood worsened even more.
A sense of fear appeared in his heart, which he suppressed with sheer will because he knew, he had heard the rumors, the stories behind these simple-looking walls, a tale that rang in the ears of every individual who worked in this organization.
Standing in front of the door on which a nameplate of golden plate is shining with a title 'BROKER' with three stars designed using dark black color.
After taking a deep breath, the masked man knocked on the door twice, then three times in different nodes, and at last again three times.
A secret code to introduce his position, identity, and the importance of the mission to the person behind this door, who will decide whether the masked man deserves to enter or not.
He tensed when no reply came from the other side.
The back of the masked man began to get soaked in sweat, and his hands began to shake thinking about the possible results that awaited him if he did not step inside the room in front of him within the next ten seconds.
His eyes darted toward the walls once again.
"Will I also become a part of these walls today only because of one mistake?" he thought.
"I should have killed that bastard from the Keeper's family; at least it will be a mistake worth remembering."
The masked man closed his eyes, waiting for his inevitable end.
As for the thought of escaping for his life, he was not that confident in his strength after all. Among the blood that had painted these walls, the number of people at the third level was maybe much lower than others, but not scarce enough to give him false hope.
Just as the masked man was waiting with no visible fear emanating from him—after all, a person with certainty has nothing to fear—a voice entered his ears.
"Come in."
The voice was filled with indifference, but it still carried the heavy weight of authority that possesses the strength to decide the life and death of an individual with just a few words.
The masked man felt relieved after knowing that he would survive once again after walking in this corridor.
With a strong grip, he twisted the doorknob and entered the room.
The interior of the room was in stark contrast to the corridor that screamed luxury; instead, it was so simple that no one could assume that this was a place from which one of the core branches of the Midnight Cartel operated.
The walls were bare, covered only in a flat coat of paint that absorbed light instead of reflecting it. In the middle of the room stood a medium-sized table, its robust design hinting at the many serious conversations that had unfolded on its surface.
Surrounding it were three chairs, arranged with intention—two for guests and one that represented authority. A small leather sofa, just spacious enough for two, completed the room's sparse aesthetic.
Every element in this space had a purpose, and nothing more.
The masked man ignored everything and stood in front of the table, his posture straight, hands folded in front like a servant waiting for his master's order.
He did not speak because he knew the mere right to speak was not something he had earned yet, and every little action he took would decide his future path, whether he would get rewarded or end up losing everything he had, so he did what the situation required: he waited.
In front of the masked man, a plump man was seated, leisurely enjoying his food with a pleased expression, with no air of authority, just like a normal person doing his favorite work.
His body and movement suggested no struggle in his life, and his face was so round that it could be compared to a panda.
The plump man did not even glance toward the man standing in front of him, his focus completely on his dish, a piece of steak that emitted slight heat even now, expressing its freshness. There is no sound inside the room except the clattering of plate and spoon while one man just ate, whereas another one just stood straight.
After more than five minutes, the plump man finally completed his meal and cleaned his face with a tissue. He looked toward the masked man for the first time, and that... was enough to chill the masked man's heart.
"Rank 2, shadow worker number two hundred forty-three, mission ranking 3 stars, right?" The plum man said, looking straight into the man's eyes behind the mask.
"Yes, sir," the masked man replied instantly.
The plump man interwove his two fingers on the desk and then leaned forward before he spoke.
"I have already read your report regarding your mission, so care to explain why you are here?"
Even though he asked with a smile on his face, the same smile did not reach his eyes; instead, a flicker of bloodlust leaked out from him.
The senses of the masked man began to flare alarms; his body, honed from years of training, almost reacted in defense if not for him forcefully controlling himself because he knew his actions and answers would decide whether he would go out from this room alive or not.
"I wish to pay for the price of using the vehicle's emergency transformation and exposing our secret route through my own credit point," the masked man replied with conviction.
The plum man did not reply for a few seconds, instead keeping staring at this shadow who is wasting his hard-earned points.
Eventually he said,.
"You wish to pay for the usage of high-grade resources and your mistakes during your mission from your own pocket, right?"
"Yes, sir."
The plump man nodded at his words before asking.
"What do you expect in return?"
The masked man knew this was his chance, the moment for which he had taken so many risks.
The reason he put up a fight against a family member despite knowing the risk when, in the first place, he should have burned the container on the mere sight of a family member instead of bringing it here, his opportunity toward advancement in both rank and strength.
So he replied with determination.
"I wish that the result evaluation for my mission and the reward based on it remain unaffected by my mistakes."
The plum man understood his intentions completely.
After all, even though it's possible for a shadow worker to pay for his mistakes during a mission, something they try to do when they are sure of their possible evaluation result if their mistakes were to be ignored.
This method is not used much.
Unlike the normal way, where the artificial intelligence of their main network decides the reward on its own by taking all mistakes and the cost of those mistakes into account, this method requires a shadow worker to have permission from a broker of higher rank than their own.
BROKERS are just like what their title represents: a being who assigns, calculates, and regulates a complete mechanization of this organization with a ranking of their own.
These people are below none except those with higher ranking than their own, a ranking about which someone like Masked Man has neither authority nor need to know.
Compared to shadow workers, these beings are someone who can take their life with a single command if they get displeased with their action or do not have the mood to help them because the building where brokers work is special, and it works on a single rule that no unnecessary person is required to be alive if he or she is not under the protection of a broker.
The masked man waited for the decision of this broken man in front of him, whose word would decide whether he would walk outside this building alive or would end up becoming a layer of paint over the wall of these corridors.
He knows that right now he is gambling with his life, but a little risk is what keeps life interesting, right?
The time keeps ticking, and so does the masked man's tension. After a few minutes, the Broker spoke again.
"Tell me, Shadow Worker 243, what will you give me in return for this favor?"
The masked man had expected this, so he instantly took a step back and kneeled on one leg before answering without hesitation.
"I will swear my complete loyalty to you when I become a shadow knight."
Shadow knights are those people who have achieved the 3rd level of evolution in this organization and earned their right to either become a rankless broker or join an already established broker as his shadow knight.
The plum man nodded his head with a pleased smile because he had already foreseen this.
After all, the shadow worker before him had reached the peak of level 2, and the only reason for him to take such a risk could only be for the sake of a higher level of power.