Yuan continued cleaning.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Invisible.
The mop glided across the polished floor in steady, rhythmic motions. To anyone watching, he was nothing more than a tired worker doing his job. His posture was relaxed, his gaze lowered perfect camouflage.
But inside him, patience was wearing thin.
He was waiting.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
The meeting room door remained closed.
Yuan shifted his position along the corridor. He moved from one corner to another, never staying in the same spot for too long. He wiped glass panels, cleaned door handles, even pretended to scrub stains that weren't theredoing everything necessary to avoid suspicion.
Then
The door opened.
Yuan's grip tightened instinctively.
Sylas Voskresensky stepped out.
His presence was immediate. Heavy. Dominating. A few advisors followed behind him, speaking in low voices, walking with practiced respect. Sylas listened without slowing his pace. His face was expressionless, cold as carved marble.
Yuan subtly lifted his gaze.
He observed everything.
The distance Sylas kept from others.
Who walked closer to him.
Who spoke first.
Who remained silent.
Connections. Hierarchy. Power.
And then
A mistake.
For a brief moment, Sylas turned his head.
Their eyes met.
Directly.
Time slowed.
Yuan's breath caught.
Fuck.
He immediately looked away, lowered his head, and focused on the floor as if nothing had happened. His hand tightened around the mop handle, but his movements never stopped.
Calm.
Normal.
Invisible.
Inside him, alarms were screaming.
Sylas stopped walking.
Yuan felt it without looking.
The weight of that gaze pressed down on him cold, arrogant, dissecting. Seconds passed. Long seconds.
Yuan kept mopping.
He didn't speed up.
He didn't hesitate.
Any reaction now would end everything.
Finally
Sylas exhaled through his nose in quiet amusement.
As if he had lost interest.
He turned away and headed toward the staircase leading downstairs.
Only then did Yuan breathe.
It wasn't relief.
It was focus.
Sylas was moving.
Yuan waited exactly three seconds.
Then he silently leaned the mop against the wall and followed.
Keeping his distance.
Blending into the crowd.
He stayed close to corners, walked behind columns, merged with other employees. He didn't look at Sylas directly; instead, he watched through reflections glass panels, polished surfaces.
Sylas spoke briefly with several people as he walked.
A senior advisor.
A member of security.
Someone important enough to slow him down but not important enough to stop him.
Yuan memorized faces.
Voices.
Body language.
Who nodded.
Who avoided eye contact.
Who walked away with tense shoulders.
This wasn't just a target.
It was a network.
Sylas descended to a lower floor and disappeared behind a secured corridor.
Yuan stopped.
He didn't go any further.
Not yet.
Too risky.
He retrieved his mop, returned to his role, and continued cleaning as if nothing had happened.
But his mind was no longer calm.
That eye contact wouldn't leave him.
Too sharp.
Too aware.
Yuan lowered his gaze, his face expressionless but one thought was crystal clear:
This man is dangerous.
And worse
He may have noticed me.