They had been waiting for what felt like hours.
All six of them sat in the quiet, luxurious waiting room, each pretending not to be nervous. The walls were smooth steel, the lights were warm gold, and yet the air felt too heavy—like something was watching them from the corners.
Matteo hadn't spoken in almost ten minutes. He sat stiff, jaw locked, fist clenched against his knee. Maliya kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Every unexplained silence from him made her stomach twist more.
Then the door slid open.
A tall man in a clean gray suit stepped out. "Please follow me. This way."
The secretary's voice was annoyingly calm. They all exchanged looks—long looks, nervous looks, but looks that said we're doing this together.
And then, like they planned it, they all stood up.
The hallway they walked into was colder than the waiting room. The floor was polished so much they could practically see their reflections. At the very end of the hall, a massive double door waited for them—black, glossy, and intimidating.
When the secretary pushed it open, every single one of them stopped.
The office was huge. And red.
Not bright red… but that deep, dark, powerful red that didn't feel like decoration. More like a warning. The aura wasn't normal—it pressed down on them, made their chests feel tight, made their brains whisper turn back.
But they kept moving.
At the center of the room was a massive desk, and behind it— a man sitting in a black leather chair, turned away from them, facing the huge window overlooking the city. So all they could see was his back.
The secretary walked up to him.
"Sir, they're here."
A pause.
Then the man answered, voice cold, detached, too calm: "You may go."
The secretary left silently.
None of them breathed for a moment.
Matteo didn't even flinch. His fists tightened, jaw locked harder. Maliya noticed. So did Amir. But no one said a word.
Slowly, the man rotated his chair.
He didn't smile. Didn't blink. Just looked at them like he already knew every detail about their existence.
"Please, sit."
They obeyed. Chairs appeared almost magically—too soft, too comfortable for the situation. Drinks were placed in front of them in fancy glasses, but none of them touched it.
Well… Leo almost did....
He reached out slightly, one eyebrow raised. "Maybe I should—"
Maliya leaned forward sharply. "Leo, don't be crazy."
He snatched his hand back. "Right. Suddenly I'm not thirsty anymore."
The man watched them with quiet amusement. "Relax. You're safe here."
None of them relaxed.
"First," he said, "I want to say I am impressed by what you did at your school. Your performance, teamwork, creativity… all of it caught our attention. That is why you're here."
Their eyes flickered between each other.
"I assume," he continued, "that from the letter, you already understand. I want each of you to join our agency. If you accept, your futures are secured—any college of your choice, guaranteed jobs, financial support… name the amount you want. You'll get it."
More silence.
Khadija raised her eyebrow at Amir, who widened his eyes like this is too much. Maliya felt something rise in her throat—fear or curiosity, she couldn't tell.
Before any of them could even open their mouths—
Matteo stood.
"No." His voice was steady, cold, sharp. "We're rejecting the offer. We don't want anything to do with your company. That's all we came here to say."
Their hearts dropped.
Leo's mouth fell open. "Bro—"
But Matteo didn't break eye contact with the man.
The man didn't get angry. Didn't argue. Didn't even blink.
He simply nodded once. "Very well. You may leave."
Confused, they all rose, uncertain. Matteo motioned toward the door, and they began moving, slow and unsure.
Then—
"Maliya Khalil."
Her whole body froze.
"Age sixteen. Born 2009. Quite young… but remarkably intelligent."
She turned slowly. Her heart pounded in her ears.
Everyone stared at her.
"How do you know my name?" she asked quietly. "And my age?"
He smiled faintly. "Come on. Your principal can tell me that much."
They all exchanged glances. That explanation made sense… kind of.
Khadija stepped forward and bowed her head slightly. "Thank you very much, sir. But I apologize for Matteo's behavior. You're older than us, so please forgive him. But we would still like to turn down your invitation."
They began walking again.
Then—
"But wait." His voice cut through the air like a blade. "Maliya Khalil… you also had a younger sister, didn't you? What was her name again?"
Maliya stopped so fast it almost made a sound. Her eyes widened. Tears built instantly.
He opened his mouth—to say the name she couldn't bear to hear even though she had been hearing it...but she didn't know why it felt different —
"DON'T!"
Her voice echoed violently through the office.
The others gasped, turning toward her in shock.
The man smiled.
"The same way I know about Maliya…" His eyes slid across each of them. "…I know about all of you. Your families. Your secrets. Everything."
Their blood ran cold.
"You're not being threatened," he said calmly. "You are being chosen. And when I choose someone, they join us. One way or another."
The room felt like it shrank. The air squeezed them.
"Now," he said softly, "you may sit again."
Slowly, shakily, they returned to their seats.
He spoke for a long time—explaining, offering, convincing, calculating. But Matteo's expression never changed. Cold. Sharp. Angry.
When everything was done, he dismissed them with a simple wave toward the door.
They stepped out into the hallway, hearts pounding.
Outside, the school driver was already waiting with a teacher the school had sent to escort them back. The corporation wasn't allowed to drive them back tp school. The school insisted they go back with their own staff.
The ride back was silent.
No jokes. No whispers. Not even eye contact.
At school,since arrived late they went straight to the cafeteria without tasting anything. And then to their dorms.
Still silent.
Still shaken.
Still carrying something none of them wanted to talk about yet.
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