Chapter 4


    His eyes widened, a mixture of awe and exhilaration washing over him. He clicked through tasks that used to bog his laptop down: rendering videos, running heavy software, multitasking between applications. Everything was instant. Smooth. Effortless.


    Daniel leaned back, his mind racing. His laptop, once an aging piece of hardware, was now a powerhouse. Tasks that once took hours — video editing, large data transfers, software compilation — were completed within seconds.


    A slow smile spread across his face. The power he wielded was real. Tangible. And it wasn’t limited to just gaming or work tasks. He’d changed the physical hardware of his laptop, bending reality to his will.


    If he could do this with his laptop, what else could he change? The possibilities were staggering.


    But first things first — he had a plan to execute. The office network upgrade was coming soon, and if his ability worked there as well as it had here, he could complete the entire upgrade seamlessly. Maybe even earn some recognition, gain leverage over his situation, or — at the very least — find a sense of control in his life.


    For the first time in what felt like forever, Daniel felt a glimmer of hope. This power could be his way out, his ticket to something better.


    He closed his laptop, the glow of the screen reflecting his determination.


    Tomorrow, the real test would begin.


    The morning light filtered through the office windows as Daniel stepped inside, a quiet resolve settling over him. Today was the day. The plan he had crafted the night before was ready to unfold. He pulled out his phone and quickly typed out a message to Ray, Graham, and Joe Miller.


    "Hey, I got the network upgrade covered today. You guys can take it easy. I''ll handle everything."


    Within minutes, the replies came back, each a variation of gratitude and mild surprise. Ray’s was short and to the point: “Alright, thanks, Daniel.”


    The office was quiet, the hum of machines and the faint clatter of keyboards filling the air. Daniel made his way to the server room, the cold air from the cooling systems brushing against his face. The rows of server racks stood before him, blinking lights casting soft glows. This was the heart of the network, the core that kept everything running.


    He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He placed his hand firmly on the cold metal of the server rack, feeling the vibration of the machinery beneath his palm. His eyes closed as he focused, that strange warmth building in his fingertips once more.


    I want the connection speed to double.


    He pictured the data streams flowing faster, smoother, the packets of information zipping through the network with newfound efficiency. He could feel the energy pulsing from him into the servers, like a ripple spreading across a still pond. The warmth grew, then dissipated, leaving a quiet stillness in its wake.


    He opened his eyes and turned to the monitor displaying the network diagnostics. The numbers flashed, the connection speeds recalibrating. His eyes widened slightly as he watched the metrics stabilize: download and upload speeds had increased exactly twofold, just as he intended.


    A satisfied smile tugged at his lips. He could have pushed it further, ten times faster even, but why give that much to a place that had given him nothing but misery? This was enough — enough to fulfill his duty, enough to make the upgrade worthwhile, but not enough to feel like he was betraying himself.


    He moved swiftly, double-checking the connections throughout the building. Floor by floor, everything was running seamlessly. Emails were sent faster, downloads completed in half the time, and streaming glitches were nowhere to be found. The office was operating like a well-oiled machine.


    Just as he wrapped up, the door to the server room creaked open. Ray stepped inside, his eyes scanning the monitors.


    “Everything done?” Ray asked, his usual neutral tone tinged with curiosity.


    Daniel nodded. “Yeah. Speeds are doubled now. Should be good to go.”


    Ray clicked through a few diagnostics on the screen, his brow lifting slightly as he reviewed the results. He nodded approvingly and reached for the approval stamp he always seemed to carry. With a firm thud, the stamp pressed down on the work order.


    “Good work, Daniel,” Ray said, his voice surprisingly genuine. “This is solid. The higher-ups will appreciate it.”


    “Thanks,” Daniel replied, his voice calm, though inside, a quiet pride blossomed.


    Ray left the room, and Daniel took a deep breath, the air suddenly feeling lighter. For the first time in a long while, he felt competent, in control — like he mattered. He wasn’t just surviving the day; he was shaping it.


    The resentment he held for the organization hadn’t vanished, but today, he’d proven something to himself: he was capable of more than they knew. And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something better.


    As he powered down the diagnostics, a thought crept into his mind:


    What else could I change if I wanted to?This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    For the first time, the future didn’t seem like a prison — it seemed like an open door.


    Daniel settled into his chair, the hum of the upgraded network a subtle reminder of his handiwork. The buzz of the office seemed louder today, more animated, the clack of keyboards punctuated by murmurs of approval. He caught snippets of conversations as they floated by.


    “Everything’s running so smooth now. The IT guys really pulled through.”


    “Yeah, about time. Didn’t think they had it in them.”


    The words should have lifted his spirits, but instead, they left a bitter aftertaste. They don’t even know who did it. His gaze swept over the sea of desks, faces buried in monitors or locked in conversation. No one glanced his way, no one offered a nod of acknowledgment.


    The praise felt hollow, distant, like applause heard through a closed door.


    Daniel leaned back, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He wasn’t surprised — recognition had always been reserved for the Rays and Grahams of the office. He was invisible until something went wrong. Always the scapegoat, never the hero.


    He sighed, staring at his screen as his cursor blinked impatiently. A thought flickered at the edge of his mind, a whisper that refused to be silenced. Why does it matter if they don’t know? He had doubled the network speeds, made their lives easier, proven to himself that he was capable of wielding this strange power.


    But a deeper part of him craved acknowledgment, craved someone looking him in the eye and saying, “You did well.”


    The door to the office swung open, and Leo Zam strode in, his eyes sweeping the room with the precision of a hawk. Daniel felt his chest tighten instinctively, his muscles bracing for impact. But Leo’s gaze passed over him without a flicker of recognition, as though he were nothing more than a piece of office furniture.


    Instead, Leo’s eyes landed on Ray, who was in the middle of a conversation with Graham. A smile — that rare, disarming smile — curled at the edges of Leo’s mouth.


    “Ray,” Leo said, his voice carrying easily across the room, “heard the network upgrade was a success. Well done.”


    Ray nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, everything’s running perfectly now.”


    Daniel’s jaw tightened. The words were like a slap, the sting of stolen credit burning hotter than he expected. His fingers curled into a fist under his desk. The quiet thrill of his achievement evaporated, replaced by that old, gnawing resentment.


    Of course. Ray gets the thanks, the approval. I get… nothing.


    His vision blurred slightly as anger welled up, sharp and bitter. He took a slow breath, trying to unclench his fists, to push the fury down where it couldn’t consume him.


    But the whisper in his mind grew louder. You changed the network. You upgraded your laptop. You can change things.


    A dangerous idea took root, twisting through his thoughts. If the system refused to acknowledge his worth, maybe it was time to stop playing by its rules.


    His eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of determination cutting through the frustration. He wasn’t powerless. He wasn’t invisible. And maybe it was time to show them — to show everyone — exactly what he was capable of.


    On my terms, he thought, his heart pounding with quiet resolve. No more waiting. No more hoping. They’re going to see me, whether they want to or not.


    Daniel shut down his workstation for the day, the screen going dark with a faint hum. The office was dimming with the onset of evening, a few scattered workers finishing up last-minute tasks. He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned toward the exit, ready to escape the suffocating weight of the office.


    Ray had already left, leaving just him and Graham in the section. Graham was at his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, his face relaxed as he focused on his task.


    Just as Daniel was about to step out, the door opened, and Leo Zam walked in, a broad smile plastered across his face. The shift in his demeanor was jarring — the cold, judgmental expression was gone, replaced by warmth that seemed reserved only for a select few. His eyes locked onto Graham, completely bypassing Daniel.


    “Graham!” Leo’s voice was rich with enthusiasm. “You got a minute?”


    Graham’s fingers paused mid-keystroke. He leaned back, giving Leo a casual grin. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”


    Leo’s smile widened, and he clapped a hand on Graham’s shoulder, the gesture one of genuine camaraderie. “You did an incredible job with that network upgrade yesterday. I knew it — I always knew you were the hero of the IT section. The whole office is talking about how smooth everything’s running now. Couldn’t have done it without you.”


    Daniel’s breath caught in his chest. The words sliced through him like a blade. The warmth in Leo’s voice, the casual praise, the acknowledgment — all of it was for Graham. His fists clenched at his sides as his pulse quickened.


    That was my work.


    He wanted to scream it, to shove the truth in Leo’s face, to tear down the facade that had been built around him. But his mouth stayed shut, locked by the same invisible force that had always kept him silent.


    Graham chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Leo. Just doing my job, you know?”


    Leo’s grin didn’t waver. “Nah, you went above and beyond, and we’re going to celebrate that. I’m taking you, Ray, and Joe out to dinner tonight. My treat. You earned it.”


    Daniel felt the floor tilt beneath him. His heart thudded painfully as he watched Leo and Graham laugh, their conversation carrying the easy flow of people who belonged — who mattered.


    The room around him blurred, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. He stood there, invisible, insignificant. Leo hadn’t even glanced at him. To Leo, he wasn’t there. He was nothing more than a piece of the office furniture.


    The weight of it all pressed down on him. He sank back into his chair, his hands sliding up to cradle his head. The muted voices of Leo and Graham faded into a dull roar in his ears.


    Why? The question seared through his mind. Why am I still here? Why do I keep putting myself through this?


    His vision sharpened through the haze of frustration, and a cold resolve took root. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together. He had given everything to this place, worked tirelessly, improved the system — and still, they dismissed him. Still, they ignored him.


    Fine.


    If they won’t see me now, I’ll make sure they regret it later.


    A plan crystallized in his mind, sharp and clear. He would leave, but not quietly. He would make Leo, Graham, Ray, all of them realize what they had lost. He would show them the cost of their neglect, the consequence of their favoritism. He wouldn’t just fade into obscurity; he would make an impact that reverberated long after he was gone.


    Leo’s laughter rang out as he and Graham left the office, the door swinging shut behind them.


    Daniel sat up slowly, his eyes narrowed, his hands dropping to his sides. The bitterness still clung to him, but beneath it, a spark of determination flared to life.


    He wasn’t beaten. Not yet.