64 A punishment


    "Who are you? What are you doing here?" thew director demanded, his voice rising in agitation. "Get out!"


    Thew director''s phone slipped from his hands, ttering onto his desk as his arrogance swiftly turned into fear.


    The moment the reality of who he was speaking to hit him, he could feel the cold sweat forming on his forehead. "This is Boss Noah", he thought, panic washing over him. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Quickly standing up, he forced a nervous smile and walked toward Noah. "I-I''m sorry, Boss. I really didn''t know it was you. I thought you were some random person invading my privacy." His voice was shaky as he spoke, trying to maintain hisposure.


    As he nced at the young man before him, a small thought crept into his mind. "He''s so young... he''s an easy-to-scam rich second generation.." An evil smirk tried to tug at the corners of his mind, but he quickly suppressed it, hiding his intentions.


    Noah wasn''t having any of it. His eyes bore into thew director with a piercing coldness, his voice t and upromising. "Why are you not doing your work?" There was no room for excuses in his tone—it was a direct challenge.


    Thew director, sensing the danger but still trying to worm his way out, put on his most ttering tone. "I was on my break, sir. I just started my break a few minutes ago," he said, smiling weakly as if hoping to diffuse the situation.


    Noah''s gaze didn''t soften. Instead, he turned toward John, standing by his side, observing everything with growing unease. "Is it break time?" Noah asked pointedly, his voice carrying the same cold edge.


    John swallowed nervously, trying to steady his voice. "To be honest, sir, the directors are allowed two hours of break throughout the day. They pick the time as long as they meet the requirements of their work. That''s been thepany rule."


    Noah''s eyes narrowed. There it was, the culture of entitlement that had allowedziness to fester in the higher levels of management. Conflict was necessary to push change—this was the moment to shift the power dynamics. Thepany''s rules needed to reflect a standard of ountability and discipline, notx privilege.


    "Okay," Noah said, his voice firm. "From now on, all directors need to report the time they take breaks to you, John. You will make sure everyone is doing their job. Understood?"


    "Yes, sir!" John replied, feeling the pressure rise in the room. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, and he couldn''t help but feel grateful that he wasn''t the one in the hot seat right now.


    Noah turned his attention back to thew director, whose once-angry expression had long faded. The atmosphere around them shifted, tension thickening as Noah spoke. "What happened with the investigation into the financial records?"


    Thew director''s confidence tried to resurface, but it faltered under Noah''s cold scrutiny. With a slight scoff in his mind, he answered, "Nothing, sir. There''s no foul y in the financial records." In his mind, he sneered.


    "This kid thinks just because he has money, he cane in here and change everything? I''ve hidden things so well, there''s no way he''ll find anything. With him in charge, my sry will increase."


    He almostughed internally at how easily he believed he could manipte Noah.


    But before thew director could revel in his imagined victory, a familiar sound echoed in Noah''s mind:


    [Ding! The Ultimate Choice System has been activated!]


    Option 1: Investigate the financial records for any embezzlement or foul y. [Rewards: Intermediate ountant Skill & $150,000]


    Option 2: Ask the director to investigate the financial records again to make sure. [Rewards: Basic ountant Skill]


    Option 3: Don''t bother with the financial records—it''s too much work. [Rewards: Several thousand dors]


    With the choices looming in his mind, Noah''s decision was clear. He wasn''t about to let a potential snake like thew director slither inside his nest.


    "Option 1!" Noah''s mind resonated with the thought as the familiar "ding" faded, and instantly, a flood of knowledge overtook him.


    Financial models, ounting principles, and the expertise of legendary bankers like J.P. Morgan shed before his eyes. Complex forms and sharp analytical processes sharpened his mind as if he''d been practicing ounting for decades.


    His eyes turned cold as he fixed his gaze on thew director, now seated with a growing unease. "Show me the records," Noahmanded, his voice leaving no room for excuses or dys.


    Thew director, feeling a sudden shiver of doubt, stared at Noah. "Does the boss have a degree in ounting?" He wondered, his arrogance making room for a sliver of uncertainty.


    Noah, with his piercing gaze, didn''t need to offer long exnations. "No," he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of the unexpected. "I''m a high schooler."


    Thew director''s face twitched slightly. "A high schooler?!" The thought burned in his mind, his initial fear melting back into disdain.


    "He''s just a kid ying boss." The director scoffed inwardly, the malicious smirk hidden behind a neutral facade.


    "Okay, boss," he replied, keeping his voice level. In his mind, though, the young boss now seemed even more naive and vulnerable.


    "This will be easy."


    He moved toward theputer, pulling up the financial records. His fingers hovered over the mouse, clicking methodically as he essed the files. Noah stood directly behind him, watching his every movement with the intensity of an eagle observing its prey. Thew director, feeling the weight of Noah''s presence, printed all the documents Noah had requested, confident that this "kid" wouldn''t have the skill to analyze theplex data.


    As the printer churned out pages of financial reports, Noah stood quietly, nodding slightly as thest sheet rolled out.


    "This man thinks I can''t analyze the records," Noah thought, noticing the subtle shift in the director''s posture.


    Thew director rxed, his movements more fluid now, as though the worst was over. But for Noah, the real work had only just begun.


    Noah moved to a nearby table with the stack of papers in hand, flipping through the records swiftly. His mind, now equipped with the expertise of world-ss ountants, immediately went to work. His focus was unbreakable, his demeanour calm but intense. As he scanned the pages, John and thew director stood by, watching him with different emotions ying out in their minds. John, his forehead beaded with sweat, hoped there wouldn''t be any trouble.


    Thew director, on the other hand, was filled with smug satisfaction, convinced Noah was only going through the motions.


    Thirty minutes passed, and the tension in the room grew heavier with each tick of the clock. Noah''s eyes scanned thest line of numbers, and with a final flip, he ced the papers neatly on the table.


    His expression was unreadable. He stood up slowly, exuding a quiet, dominant energy that filled the room.


    Without looking at thew director, Noah turned to John. His words were firm and cold. "Call the police."


    John froze for a second, blinking in shock.


    A single sentence, yet it sent a wave of panic through the air. John nodded quickly, his hand fumbling for his phone. "Y-Yes, sir!" he stammered, dialling the emergency number with trembling fingers.


    Thew director, who had been watching from his seat, felt a sharp pang of confusion. "Why are we calling the police?" His face paled as he realized something was very wrong.


    His voice, previously filled with arrogance, now wavered slightly. "Why are we calling the police, sir? Is… is something wrong?" His tone, though feigning innocence, wasced with fear.


    Noah didn''t respond. His silence was more terrifying than any reprimand. He simply stared ahead, his thoughts carefully concealed.


    Thew director shifted in his seat, his thoughts swirling in chaos. "Did he find something? Was it possible? No, that couldn''t be."


    "I had hidden everything too well, this kid didn''t even know what he was reading."


    His mind raced. "He''s trying to scare me into confessing. That''s it."


    His nerves tensed, but he clung to his internal narrative. "He couldn''t have found anything. He''s bluffing."


    But as the minutes dragged on in silence, thew director''s certainty wavered. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.


    The stillness in the room, with Noah standing like a silent storm ready to strike, only intensified the fear gnawing at him. His thoughts tumbled one over the other, unable to focus.


    "What if he did find something?"


    The tension snapped when, twenty minutester, a knock sounded on the office door, and two uniformed police officers entered the room.


    Thew director''s heart sank. He felt cold, mmy dread flood his body as the officers made their way toward Noah, who turned to greet them with a nod.


    "Officers," Noah said, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of his authority. "I need you to conduct an investigation into financial misconduct."


    Thew director''s blood ran cold. This wasn''t a bluff.


    His smirk, his arrogance, all of it was crumbling under the weight of Noah''s quiet dominance. The value shift wasplete—Noah was no longer just a young, naive owner. Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!


    Creation is hard, cheer me up!


    Risaliyah