Quota 70/130 - Last day
"This woman is absolutely insane!" Victor internally screamed as they narrowly missed another car by mere inches. He diverted his gaze from the road to look anxiously at the driver. Dressed elegantly in a suit, she no doubt carried an air of gracefulness, yet Victor was convinced he had never encountered a woman as crazy as her in his entire life. They had left the house a few minutes ago, and she hadn't uttered a single word since. Victor had no objection to the silence, but he also favored the idea of staying alive.
Despite her beauty, independence, and any other compliment one might think of, she was undeniably reckless. Under normal circumstances, Victor might have suggested her to seek psychological help or even go on a relaxing retreat at a spa, but he was far too preoccupied with clinging onto his life to entertain such thoughts. After all, they were on the ring road during rush hour, being more over 200 km/h than under. And the driver seemed to prefer slaloming through the traffic over braking, a tactic that Victor found more terrifying than dealing with the slow-moving elderly of the early afternoon. Yet, he had to admit, albeit grudgingly:
‘This car is super cool.’
He would, however, withhold any praise for the driving skills of his boss, who was navigating through traffic with undeniable grace but had seemingly decided to risk both their lives just to avoid being late for the first service.
‘Damn this woman,’ Victor muttered, gripping the handle beside him with all his might.
Salvation seemed imminent when Victor heard police sirens behind them. But just as he braced himself for a high-speed chase, his manager calmly pulled over to the emergency lane. From her suit, she retrieved a wallet, and from that wallet, a striking red license. Victor had a bad feeling, sensing that she might just get away with her recklessness.
As the police car stopped behind them and an officer approached the driver's side window, his eyes widened upon seeing the driver.
‘Don't get fooled brother! This woman is crazy!’ Victor internally exclaimed. But it was too late; the officer was already speaking to his manager in the softest, calmest, and kindest tone possible:
"Excuse me, madam, but you have... you have exceeded the speed limit." He had stuttered a bit under her indifferent gaze.
She didn't speak, simply showing him her license without handing it over. The license, with its loud red color, featured a salamander logo and a note in black ink:
Diplomatic License.
‘Damn this woman!’ Victor inwardly shouted, despair slowly sinking into his soul. The officer, upon seeing the diplomatic license, became even more polite. He checked the identification number and, after confirming everything was in order, wished them a good day and added:
"Please be careful on the road, madam. People here drive like lunatics."
‘Thank you, officer. I hope you'll have my death on your conscience if something happens to me on the road,’ Victor thought as he was leaving. He then looked at his manager with concern as she neatly put away her license and wallet back into her elegant suit, and he helplessly witnessed a nightmarish scene unfold.
She slammed on the accelerator, and Victor's head was thrust back into his seat by the sheer force of the acceleration. In no time, they were back to cruising at 200 km/h. He was trapped, waiting for death in his comfortable leather seat, which was ventilated, heated, and had a massage function. He even started to ventilate his back.
‘If I'm going to end up in the morgue or at work, might as well arrive in the best conditions.’ Victor had already resigned himself to his fate, glaring resentfully at his manager's face so he could haunt her in his next life.
Human body: x1 - value 5
‘Less valuable than a kitchen whisk, you've really outdone yourself this time, Ms. Perfect.’ Sarcasm was all he had left. He rested his head against the door to gaze at the landscape. Surprisingly, it was quite relaxing—if not for the constant presence of death at every turn. The engine's rumble. Cars whizzing by as if standing still. So relaxing that Victor barely noticed the journey.
Just ten minutes ago, they were on the outskirts, and now they were already in the heart of the city.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
All of it in just ten minutes.
"I must have misread the time when I left," Victor thought as he saw them approaching the same traffic line as the night before.
They were also approaching a Mercedes.
Black.
Driven by a young man in his twenties, with a witch sitting in the passenger seat.
The white BMW of his boss had pulled up to the light, encroaching on the bike lane.
The Mercedes' engine roared.
Perhaps the driver wanted to erase last night's defeat, but he had made a poor judgment of his opponent.
Because the white BMW blatantly ran through the first red light without stopping.
It kept going as if it couldn't brake, going through the line of red lights in mere seconds. Victor couldn't explain why, but he felt a pang of sadness for those lights.
Nonetheless, they had arrived at their destination in one piece. His boss parked directly in front of the hotel, handing the keys to the porter who had come down the stairs to welcome them. She gave Victor one last glance before entering the hotel.
‘At least I won't be late for the first shift,’ Victor thought, checking the time.
6:10 PM
He then entered the hotel himself. As he made his way to the restaurant to prepare for his shift, a voice called out to him. It was the receptionist's voice, a man in his sixties with grey hair, embodying the quintessential grandfather: endless kindness and unshakeable goodness. Victor had never spoken to him since the old man only dealt with hotel guests. Yet, he had heard him say his name. "Excuse me, Mr. De Lafayette, but the manager would like to see you in his office." It had been years since anyone had called him by his last name. Despite his harmless elderly appearance and polite wording, his tone was authoritative. Without waiting for an answer, he gestured towards the elevator.
Victor got in, and with a dull noise, the elevator started moving.
In just a few seconds, he had arrived.
The elevator doors opened to a vast room.
There was a huge bay window offering a panoramic view of Lille, a carved wooden desk that must have cost a fortune, and a small lounge area with leather armchairs. Seated in one of them was a woman in her thirties, exuding charisma and a sharp aura. It was Victor's first time meeting her, but he instinctively knew she was the one in charge of this hotel branch. He silently prayed.
‘Please God, let this woman be reasonable.’
She was holding a folder, but Victor couldn't see what was written inside.
"Good evening, Mr. De Lafayette, please take a seat," she announced, gesturing to the chair opposite her.
He sat down.
He had many questions, especially about his recent BMW ride, but before he could speak, she asked :
"Why do you work for the company?" It was a simple, seemingly innocent question, yet the atmosphere had grown tense.
He answered seriously, "To pay off my debts and find my father."
It was the sad truth, but the woman still smiled.
Maybe she already knew the answer, maybe she suspected it, or maybe she knew nothing at all. Either way, she showed no sign.
She kept asking questions.
"Why do you work at this hotel?"
- To pay off my debts and find my father." The two questions might have seemed very different to her, but not to him.
It seemed she hadn't expected that answer, showing a flicker of surprise she instantly masked behind her smile. She pulled a sealed envelope from her folder and handed it to him.
Inside the envelope was a badge, identical to those he had seen on hotel guests: a black salamander curled up on a white background.
Victor was confused.
‘Why am I receiving this?’ But there was more inside the envelope.
He found a plane ticket to New York and a note written in black ink :
You will find your teammates there. Good luck, Victor.
Now, Victor was worried.
‘What do you mean I have to go to the other side of the world?’
He glanced at the woman sitting across from him. She hadn't shown any emotion and was just watching him with a slight smile. Victor closed the envelope and stood up.
His shift wouldn't start for another thirty minutes, but he needed time to think.
He bid her farewell before slipping away.
Once out of the elevator, he ignored the receptionist's gaze and headed to the restaurant. The restaurant manager was still checking the time on her watch, waiting for 7 PM.
The hotel manager must have asked her to bring him back, but Victor had no idea how she knew where he was or how she possessed a diplomatic license.
‘And why was there a salamander on her license? It's as if this hotel was its own country.’ Victor shook his head.
He should focus on more immediate problems:
‘How am I supposed to get my car out of the impound?’
It wasn't an easy question to answer since he didn't really have the money to pay the fine, and he couldn't see how he could retrieve it without paying anything. He pondered this for over 30 minutes, so much so that his shift began before he could address the real issues at hand.
The shift went smoothly.
10:00 PM
Victor left the hotel.
The same empty streets and the same gloomy weather.
"At least there are no cars in sight," he thought, relieved as he looked at the road ahead.
He began to cross and narrowly missed the familiar white BMW that emerged from around the corner.
"Damn this road and damn this woman," he muttered as he watched the car drive away.
He finally crossed the street safely and entered the company building.
Experimentation was still there, behind her desk, as if she had waited all evening for him. Victor greeted her and took out the perfume bottle and hair dryer from his bag. The first sold for exactly 104, and the second for 77. Victor was pleased to have met his quota, but he was primarily looking forward to his salary. The ratio between pay and quota hadn't been specified in the contract, so he didn’t know how much he would gain. Experimentation recorded the total in a spreadsheet before turning to Victor. "A total of 251 will be paid 5000 euros. Would you like the total by transfer or in cash?"