I stood up from the dining table after finishing my meal and began walking toward my room. When I opened the door and sat on the bed, my wife followed, quietly closing the door behind her. She sat beside me and said gently,
"John, can you please be a little gentle on the kid?"
I snapped.
"Why? Why should I? If you can't raise a child the way I told you to, then maybe you shouldn't have the right to speak to me at all."
I was angry. But somewhere deep down, a tiny part of me—one I never acknowledged—whispered that maybe those words weren't right. Maybe they weren't fair. But I didn't walk the path of truth. I walked the path of perfection.
Without looking at her, I laid down and pulled the sheets over me, shutting my eyes.
---
A bright light pierced through my eyelids. I opened them to see sunlight spilling through the window. I sat up slowly, glanced at my wristwatch. Ten minutes before the alarm.
I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, yawning slightly. Opening the door, I looked at myself in the mirror. My pale skin seemed redder than usual, but I ignored it. I turned the faucet and began rubbing my hands, splashing cold water on my face. It felt refreshing.
I soaked my dark brown hair with water, brushed the moisture off my mustache, and dried off with a towel. After changing into my clothes, I left the mansion.
To my left, I saw Nana playing with the toy I bought her last week. I called her name.
"Nana!"
She ran to me, tail wagging. I wasn't sure what had her so excited, but it was... cute. I patted her belly.
"I'll buy you some treats and new toys today, alright?"
She barked in reply. Was it a thank you? A question? Hard to tell with dogs.
I brushed off my pants, stepped into the car, and drove to the company.
---
The moment I walked in, the employees who had been laughing fell silent. The ones talking suddenly had nothing to say. I ignored it all and entered the elevator, pressing the button for the third floor. Music played overhead, like it always did.
Every day I asked myself the same question: who decided this elevator needed music?
I stepped out and walked into my office, placing my suitcase down and picking up a pen. I began signing the paperwork I'd left unfinished yesterday.
When I was done, I leaned back, inhaled deeply, then exhaled. I switched on the company's internal camera feed, scanning through each one.
Then I saw him.
A man sitting idly on the first floor near the cafeteria. I pressed the intercom.
"The man sitting near the cafeteria on floor one. Come to my office. Now."
A minute later, the door creaked open. The man peeked in.
"What do you want, boss?"
I didn't respond. I simply looked him over.
"Didn't anyone teach you how to enter someone's office?"
He fumbled.
"I-I'm sorry... I thought you needed me urgently."
I wanted to yell. But I didn't. Not here.
"You're suspended for ten days."
He looked down, ashamed.
"Yes, sir."
He closed the door behind him. I sighed, then went to make a cup of tea.
That's when I heard yelling. Two voices, clashing.
As a manager, I was responsible. I rushed to the source.
Two janitors stood there, shouting.
"What's going on here?" I demanded.
The one on the right pointed.
"He refuses to clean today. Says I should do it instead."
The other snapped, "My mother's in the hospital!"
"And what does that have to do with your job?" I barked. "Both of you—fired."
The first one stepped forward, eyes pleading.
"B-But this is the only way I can afford food. Please, give me another chance."
I didn't say anything. I just stared at him. Pathetic.
Then I turned and walked away.
---
Hours later, I arrived back at the mansion. Nana greeted me with uncontained joy. I crouched and pet her.
"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten what I promised."
I reached into my pocket for the keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
A crash.
I followed the sound into the living room and found Mark standing over a shattered vase.
My imagination ran wild. Maybe he did it on purpose. Maybe not. But I was furious.
"Is this how I raised you?" I shouted.
Mark flinched. "I-I tripped and bumped into it. I swear, I didn't mean to."
Without thinking, my hand rose and struck him. The sting in my palm lingered.
"Go to your room. I don't want to hear excuses."
He turned to go, but I stopped him.
"See these pieces on the floor? I want to see them as a vase again."
Mark whimpered, "B-But—"
"No more 'but.' Do as I say. Stop being someone who keeps making mistakes."
I looked him in the eye.
"How can you become perfect... if you keep failing?"