Chapter 10

Monday morning—a phrase despised by billions around the world. Only the unemployed, the wealthy, and those with life-altering plans could approach it calmly. As it happened, I fit into all three categories. While my plans wouldn’t change my life entirely, they were guaranteed to bring some thrilling new experiences. And if all went well, my happiness would hit its peak and stay there for years to come.

That Monday morning, I dressed in a brand-new, outrageously expensive suit, stepped into my equally pricey new SUV, and told my freshly hired driver our destination. He, too, was well-paid—so yes, even he was expensive.

This trip was the first step in executing a meticulously crafted plan, one I had been developing for a whole month. Dozens of people were involved, hundreds of thousands of dollars had been spent on their preparation, and I’d even gone so far as to rent an entire wing of a hospital—all for one person. Jan.

Upon arriving at the destination, I took a few seconds to compose myself before stepping out of the car. The last thing I wanted was to see the prison where I had once been held. And the very last thing I wanted was to find myself back inside its walls. But for this plan to work, I had no choice.

After casting a brief glance at the prison’s perimeter, I made my way to the entrance.

They were expecting me inside. Here’s how things stood: after some effort, I managed to connect with the right people in the government and pique their interest with an offer. What I proposed was purchasing one of the state prisons for a hefty sum. Given the country’s recent economic troubles, the government had started considering the idea of private prisons. It wasn’t legal yet, but I secured permission to inspect the facility. So my visit seemed entirely legitimate and wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

Once inside the prison, the guards escorted me to the warden's office. As I expected, Jan, the head of security, was already there. Shaking his hand without spitting in his face took an enormous amount of self-control.

"Leo Rutis," I introduced myself to Jan, quickly adding, "No, not American—it’s a Lithuanian name."

Jan gave me a strange look, probably surprised that I had guessed what he was thinking.

"Glad to meet you," the warden smiled, offering his hand as well. Judging by his demeanor, he seemed ready to fall to his knees and kiss my ass. In his eyes, I was the potential future owner of the place, after all.

"Likewise," I replied. "Apologies for interrupting your work. I'll try to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Oh, not at all," the warden said quickly. "It's no trouble. We’d be more than happy to give you a tour."

And so, the three of us embarked on a little journey through the prison. The warden’s mouth didn’t stop moving, while Jan's stayed completely shut the entire time. The warden was eager to impress me, and the more he talked, the more I loathed every corner of this place as I followed them through the corridors.

We visited the kitchen, checked out the dining hall, and I saw the very table where I had eaten for almost five years. Then we looked at the surveillance room, the guards' break room, and a dozen other places that the warden found interesting. We strolled through the yard where I’d been beaten more times than I could count, and visited the infirmary where I’d spent months recovering. Finally, they decided to show me the cell block where the inmates were held—naturally, the one where I had lived.

The warden thought merely looking at the block through the bars wasn’t enough and insisted we walk inside. While he rambled on about the number and reliability of the cameras, I paused in front of a familiar cell, grim memories flooding back. Inside, on the bottom bunk, sat Kos, with his arm draped around a terrified-looking cellmate. In my previous life, by this time, I had already been an inmate here, and Kos had become my worst nightmare. I glared at him with disgust until our eyes met. He clicked his tongue and winked at me.

I moved on, comforting myself with the thought that he didn’t have much longer to live. A few cells down, I spotted my old cell, and inside was my former cellmate—the one bright moment of the whole morning.

"If we turn right down the hall, we’ll end up at the solitary confinement block…" the warden continued, but I cut him off.

"No need," I said firmly. "I’ve seen enough. I have other important business to attend to today. Thank you for your time." I extended my hand.

"We were happy to have you," the warden beamed, shaking my hand enthusiastically. "If you don’t mind, my deputy will escort you to the exit. I need to get back to work."

Perfect. I had been looking for a way to get Jan alone.

"Of course," I agreed.

We said our goodbyes to the warden, and Jan and I headed toward the exit.

"So, what do you think of our prison?" Jan finally broke his silence.

"A dump," I answered quickly. "I’m sure you’d agree."

Jan didn’t know how to respond, so he just gave a vague nod.

"I’ve toured many prisons across the country," I began to lie, "and this one suits my needs the most. In the near future, the officials plan to pass a new law, allowing me to turn this place into a private prison. Of course, everything here would need major renovations, and the prison would have to close temporarily. The inmates will be relocated, but the staff… well, with all the overcrowding in other facilities, your team would have to go on unpaid leave. For about a year."

I glanced at Jan, and he looked visibly upset. Perfect. Spoiler alert: I had no intention of buying any prison.

"I’ve heard about you, Jan Titov," I continued. "Over the past ten years, not a single major incident here. Most people give you, not the warden, the credit for that. As head of security, you’ve managed to keep order."

"We do what we can," Jan mumbled, clearly not in the mood.

"As it happens, I’m currently looking for someone with your experience," I said, stopping and turning to face him. "My personal security team could use a competent leader who can instill some discipline. I think you’d be a perfect fit for the job."

"Are you… offering me a job?" Jan looked genuinely confused.

"Sending someone with your talents on unpaid leave is a crime," I said smoothly. "You can always return here after the renovations, if you want."

"Running personal security… that’s not really my thing," Jan muttered, unsure.

"It’s not much different from what you do here," I reassured him. "Except for the pay. How much do you make here?"

"Not as much as I’d like, but it’s enough to live on," Jan answered evasively.

"I’d bet, with all the bribes you get as head of security, you pull in no less than twenty grand. Let’s round that up to thirty."

Jan gave me a sheepish grin and shook his head as if to say, "No, not me."

"I’m offering you a hundred grand. Clean. No need to worry about bribes."

Jan’s jaw practically dropped.

"That’s a generous offer," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What’s the catch?"

"No catch. I’m a wealthy man, and I need a well-motivated head of security. Don’t rush your decision, but don’t take too long, either. A couple of days to think it over should be enough. If you’re interested, give me a call."

I handed him my business card, shook his hand (resisting the urge to break his nose), and quickly left the building. Now, all that was left was to wait for his call.

Jan loved money just as much as I did. Maybe even more. It took him exactly one evening to make the right (for me) decision, and he called the very next morning. By the following day, he had already started his new duties.

For the entire next week, Jan worked tirelessly with my three recently hired bodyguards. He pushed himself hard, from early morning until late at night, which was exactly what I had planned—exhausting him to the limit. I waited patiently for the perfect moment to move on to the next part of my plan. For that, I needed the help of my cousin, Max. Thanks to me, he was doing quite well in life, so he agreed to participate without hesitation.

At 37, Max had achieved a lot. He was wealthy, a father of two, and comfortably positioned on the board of a successful bank. This last part was what influenced my decision to involve him. At my request, he quickly managed to get hold of an armored cash transport vehicle. I didn’t even have to explain the details of the plan; a brief overview was enough.

One fine morning, when everything was ready, I made an important phone call. From that moment, a series of fateful events for Jan began to unfold. The script had moved from the "exposition" phase to the "rising action."

***

My office, rented specifically for this grand scheme, was located on the twenty-first floor of an upscale business center. To make the whole setup look realistic, I even had a secretary at the entrance. Her job was to look pretty and play solitaire on the computer. I introduced Max as my investment partner. Probably the only person actually doing any real work was the janitor who mopped the floors in the evenings.

As usual, Jan arrived at work right on time. Through the security cameras, Max and I watched him walk through the lobby and stop at the elevator. Right behind him, our fake accountant—a guy about my age—entered the building. He approached Jan, they shook hands, and both stepped into the elevator.

“How was the game last night?” the accountant asked Jan.

“Terrible. I’ve never seen bigger losers than our guys. Even ballet dancers would’ve played better.”

“That’s for sure,” the accountant laughed, checking the floor indicator as the elevator reached the tenth floor.

Suddenly, the accountant pulled one hand out of his pocket, reached over, and firmly grabbed Jan’s backside. Jan immediately shoved his hand away.

“What the hell are you doing!?”

The accountant slowly turned to face him, grinning broadly.

“I know you’re into this. Come on, let’s do it right here, in the elevator,” he said, raising his hand to Jan’s face and attempting to stroke his cheek.

Without hesitation, Jan punched him square in the nose. The accountant dropped to the floor, clutching his face.

“Have you lost your damn mind, you idiot?” Jan yelled.

The elevator doors opened on the twenty-first floor, and the accountant crawled out.

“For what!?” he cried.

“To hell with you perverts!” Jan spat.

“What’s going on?” I rushed out of the office with Max following close behind.

“He punched me in the face!” the accountant shouted.

“This moron grabbed my ass,” Jan explained, fuming. “I’ve got nothing against people like him as long as they keep their hands off me.”

“Wait, aren’t you married?” I looked at the accountant.

“I didn’t touch him!” the accountant protested.

“Yeah, right,” Jan scoffed, “I just decided to deck you for no reason.”

“You’re a complete psycho; you need help,” the accountant said as he finally got to his feet.

“Maybe it’s you who needs help,” Jan threatened, taking a step toward him.

“Alright, calm down,” I intervened. “You, go wash up,” I told the accountant, “I’ll figure this out. Jan, come with me to my office.”

We stepped into my office, and I immediately picked up the phone, pretending to make a call.

“I’ve heard of people getting married, having kids, and then turning out to be like that,” Jan pointed to the door. “You don’t think I’d just punch him for no reason, do you?”

“No need for me to think about it; I’ll see for myself soon enough,” I said, pretending to speak into the phone. “This is Leo from the twenty-first floor, office 213. We’ve had an incident, could I request the video footage from the first elevator? From the past ten minutes, please. Thanks.”

I hung up the phone and headed to the door.

“They’ll send me the video in about fifteen minutes, but you need to head out. While you were coming up, I got a call—your vehicle is ready. Grab the guys and get going. You remember the address?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Jan replied, heading back to the elevator.

“Call me when it’s done.”

The elevator doors closed behind him, and as soon as they did, the accountant stepped out of the restroom. I nodded at him, signaling “well done,” and he smiled back in satisfaction.

Jan and his three-man team, wearing bulletproof vests and fully equipped, stood on the tarmac of an airport. They held rifles, constantly scanning their surroundings. Workers were unloading heavy, opaque boxes from Leo's private jet, supposedly packed with bundles of cash. At least, that's what Leo had told Jan. In reality, each bundle contained nothing but blank sheets of paper. Jan’s task was to escort Leo’s supposed “billion dollars,” which had arrived by plane, to a bank in an armored truck.

"Who the hell transports money like this?" Jan muttered, watching the cargo being loaded into the vehicle. "That’s what bank accounts are for."

"Maybe some people don’t trust banks," one of his team members replied.

"Can you imagine if the plane had blown up in the sky?" Jan turned to him. "There'd be a real money rain somewhere."

"All set!" a worker shouted, loading the last box.

The four of them climbed into the armored truck, with Jan entering last and securing the rear doors. In the center of the truck stood the stacked boxes, occupying about half the available space. Along the sides were benches, where the convoy, led by Jan, settled in.

One of the guards leaned forward and spoke to the drivers through a small window.

"Let's roll."

The truck started moving. They had to drive across the entire city, a journey of at least an hour. The first part of the trip passed in silence, until one of the guards broke it.

"Has anyone here ever been this close to a billion dollars?" he asked.

"I’ve been thinking about that the whole ride," the second guard said. "If these boxes weren’t sealed with tape, I’d dump everything on the floor and take a selfie."

"You think a picture like that would finally make the girls flock to you?" the third guard quipped.

All the guards, including Jan, burst into laughter.

"Screw you," the second guard retorted. "Do you have a girl?"

"Not yet today. But the day’s not over."

"Yeah, right, Casanova. I’ll bet you one of these boxes that you won’t get lucky today."

"Do you even know how many millions are in there, idiot? You’d be my slave forever."

For the next ten minutes, the banter continued in the same vein, with the guards teasing each other about their lack of money and love lives. Jan mostly just listened, laughing at the appropriate moments, until they eventually changed the topic.

"I used to work for a politician once," one of the guards began. "It was like being a nanny. All I did was babysit his kids."

"And what was so bad about that?" the second guard asked.

"I hate kids. I realized it for sure when one of them puked on me."

Everyone laughed again.

"Better that than being shot at. If at least they paid accordingly, I wouldn’t complain. I worked for an oil tycoon once, and you won’t find a bigger tightwad. Plenty of people wanted him dead, but he was stingy with security. In my first month, I got shot at twice. Not worth it."

"Hey boss," one of the guards turned to Jan, "isn't this job the same for you? Just like back in the prison, only here you’re transporting boxes instead of inmates."

"Yeah," Jan replied, "and just like back then, I’m still training a bunch of idiots how to do their jobs."

The guards laughed along with Jan once again, but suddenly, a voice came over the truck’s speaker system.

"Hate to interrupt your fun..."

"We're here already?" one of the guards cut in.

"That was fast," Jan added.

"...but it turns out we’re not going to the bank."

"What the hell do you mean?" Jan glanced at his team in confusion.

"For you, this ride is over," the voice continued. "I’m really sorry. It’s time to die."

"What the hell?" Jan shouted as the guards exchanged bewildered looks.

Jan barely had time to get to his feet when a hissing sound came from the upper corners of the truck. Gas began to fill the cabin. The guards instantly started choking, foam pouring from their mouths. Jan quickly covered his nose with his jacket collar and backed up toward the rear doors, watching in horror as his men convulsed on the benches, their eyes rolling back, before collapsing onto the floor.

For several long seconds, Jan considered his options. He glanced one last time at the boxes of money, realizing there was no way he could protect them. The idea of following the same fate as his subordinates was far from appealing. So, Jan made the only decision he thought was right. With a swift motion, he flung open the rear doors and leaped out of the moving truck.

“Whoooaaaa!” Max yelled, sitting next to me and staring at the monitor. We were watching Jan’s ride through a camera installed in the truck. “He just jumped out of the car!”

I cradled my head in my hands, unable to believe my eyes. This moment was not part of the plan. Jan was supposed to lose consciousness from the gas, while the guards, falling to the floor, would grab the oxygen masks stashed there. The foam coming from their mouths was produced by a special tablet—nothing dangerous.

Jan's desperate leap from the moving vehicle could derail all my plans and efforts. I could only hope he hadn’t broken his neck. Fortunately, he landed skillfully, as I realized half a minute later when his phone rang.

“I’m not available; I’m in a meeting. Let him go to the office,” I told Max, handing him the phone.

The guards in the armored truck were calling my second line. They were likely just as shocked by the unfolding events as I was. But a plan had started forming in my mind about how to proceed. A lot of work was ahead of me, and I needed to act quickly to get the scenario back on track. I stepped out of the office, answered the call, and began explaining the next steps to the guards.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

About an hour later, Jan limped into the office. The three guards from the truck, the accountant, and Max were already waiting for him in the conference room. I went to meet Jan, hoping to prepare him for the shock ahead.

“Where have you been? I called!” Jan exclaimed nervously as soon as he saw me. “Things are a complete mess!”

“I was at an important meeting. Max passed on your words. You really scared me.”

“Scared!? The drivers killed three people and stole a billion bucks! I almost died!”

“Jan, calm down,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The money is fine. It’s at the bank, where it belongs. Nothing happened to the guys either.”

“Are you kidding me!?”

“Come with me.”

We walked down the corridor and entered the conference room. Jan's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the three guards alive and well at the table.

“Boss, how are you?” his subordinates jumped to their feet.

“What the hell!?” Jan exclaimed, astonished. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Sit down,” I said.

“Damn it, I thought you guys had already been dumped somewhere in a river!” Jan shot a threatening glance at the guards. “I almost broke my legs, and all for a damn joke!?”

“Play it, Max,” I instructed my brother.

He hit a button on the laptop, and the projector displayed the video from the surveillance camera in the armored truck. Jan stared at the screen, puzzled, not expecting to see anything new. But then his eyes widened in disbelief.

On the video, he abruptly darted toward the truck door, covering his nose with his jacket’s collar. The other guards were not foaming at the mouth and dying; instead, they were calmly sitting on the benches, looking puzzled at their boss. Jan then opened the doors and jumped out, and his subordinates rushed after him but couldn’t grab hold of him in time.

Max paused the video, and we all stared at Jan. I felt immense relief; the graphics specialists had done a fantastic job. Not a single visible “mistake” on the screen.

The truth was, after the unforeseen incident in the truck, the guards had rushed to reshoot the video, making it look like they were trying to save their boss from jumping. The first version, where they surrounded a fainted Jan, was no longer suitable. They then handed the footage to specialists who managed to edit and process everything at a high level in just half an hour. I thought I’d have to pay them significantly for their speed and professionalism.

“If you bastards think I’m going to buy this crap, you’re out of your minds!” Jan yelled at the three guards.

“Jan…” I tried to interject.

“The video is fake!” he continued to shout. “I don’t know why they’d do this,” he pointed at the guys, “but am I not good enough for you? Say it to my face! You won’t make a psycho out of me!”

“They don’t have access to the camera in the truck,” I said. “And why would anyone go to such lengths?”

“How the hell should I know? Let’s ask them! Or anyone who has damn access!”

The guards exchanged silent glances and shook their heads. The accountant smiled smugly.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jan turned to him. “Didn’t I hit you enough?”

“Cool it!” I ordered, my tone firm. “And just watch.”

Max played the next video. This time, it was from the elevator surveillance camera. On the screen, Jan entered the elevator with the accountant. For a moment, they stood still. Suddenly, Jan swung his arm through the air and shouted at the accountant, even though the guy had done nothing. The accountant turned to Jan, raising his hands in surprise, and got a punch in the eye. The elevator doors opened, and the video stopped.

Jan turned away from the screen and burst into laughter. I hadn’t expected him to believe it immediately. Despite the actors—his guards and the accountant—doing a great job, Jan still needed some convincing.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he said, turning to me.

“Did the guys also fake the elevator video?” I replied. “Let’s do this: go home now and get some proper rest. You’ve been sleep-deprived all week, and maybe that’s where all your issues are coming from. I expect you here tomorrow morning.”

With a disgruntled expression, Jan turned and silently left the room. I watched him go, unable to suppress a smile. He had no idea what awaited him that night. But I did, and it couldn’t help but bring me joy.

***

When Jan got home, he collapsed into bed and slept until evening. Waking up, he had dinner and settled down with a beer in front of the TV, unable to stop thinking about what had happened. Now that the sleepiness had worn off, part of him began to doubt that a conspiracy was brewing around him aimed at driving him insane. It sounded too absurd. What motive would the security have for doing that? Jan hadn’t given them any reason to; he hadn’t insulted them or overstepped his authority.

So, could it be that he was simply so exhausted from the week that he was starting to see hallucinations? That would be better than a real conspiracy. He considered Leo to be a great boss and a person incapable of such nonsense. Besides, the security team had always acted rationally.

After finishing his third beer of the evening, Jan got up from the couch and headed to the fridge. He opened the door, looked inside, and froze. His peripheral vision caught something unusual in the far corner of the kitchen. He turned his gaze there and felt a shiver run down his spine. A silhouette was clearly outlined in the darkness, slightly illuminated by the light from the fridge. Jan strained his eyes, hoping he was imagining things. The silhouette wasn’t moving, and he began to think it was just shadows playing a cruel trick on him. But suddenly, everything changed. The silhouette sprang into motion, stepping out of the shadows and approaching Jan.

He bolted for the kitchen exit, quickly crossing the hallway and bursting into the living room, only to collide with the chest of a massive, muscle-bound man. The man immediately grabbed him by the throat and pulled him close.

“It’s all right. I won’t hurt you,” he said.

Jan struggled to loosen the grip, but it felt like iron. From the kitchen, another uninvited guest appeared. He pressed against Jan’s back and whispered in his ear, “Don’t resist. You need this.”

His hands slid down and grabbed Jan’s backside. Enraged, Jan mustered his strength and punched the man in front of him in the face. Breaking free from the grip, he managed to hit the one behind him with the back of his head in the nose. Then he turned around and followed up with a fist. The first man quickly recovered and hit Jan in the eye. The powerful blow sent Jan spiraling into confusion. The second man seized him, twisting his arms and straightening him up. The first man began to pound Jan in the stomach and face, beating him for a solid thirty seconds before yanking him away from his accomplice, lifting him, and tossing him over the couch.

Jan landed painfully on the floor. He could barely breathe; his entire face burned from the blows, and blood was flowing from his nose. He couldn’t get up and only shielded his ribs and head from any further hits. However, they didn’t come. After lying on the floor for more than a minute, he finally raised his head and looked around.

There was no one in the room. Summoning a significant amount of effort, Jan managed to get to his feet. He slowly made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the holder. He searched the entire apartment with it, but there was no trace of his attackers. Finally, Jan checked the front door; it was locked from the inside.

Not releasing the knife from his grip, he collapsed onto the couch and took a heavy breath.

***

What a beautiful night it had been, all thanks to another exclusive charity event where I caught the attention of a very attractive woman. She graciously agreed to continue our acquaintance at my place and didn’t want to leave until the morning. In fact, I found myself enjoying these evenings more and more each day. I noticed that such events were a hotspot for incredibly beautiful women. Yes, they were only interested in wealthy guys, but that didn’t bother me at all. We all got what we wanted.

Having hardly gotten any sleep, I went to the office in a great mood. I was in for a challenging day—not as tough as Jan’s, but still. I intentionally arrived early to check that everything was ready for the next phase of our plan. After that, I sat at my desk, folded my arms, and waited.

As always, Jan arrived right on time. I tried my best to hide my mood and put on a serious expression, but seeing Jan only made me feel happier. There was hardly a healthy spot on his face. His bruises and miserable appearance almost made me smile broadly. However, I held back my emotions and jumped up with concern.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, worried.

“Some two scumbags broke into my apartment last night. Not the best day.”

I thought to myself, “It’s only going to get worse,” but said instead, “Did they rob you?”

“They didn’t take anything. Just beat me up and left.”

“Did you call the police?”

“What’s the point? They won’t find anything anyway. I’m not used to complaining about little things.”

“Come on, you’re a mess. You need to go to the police and describe these guys. Did you remember what they looked like?”

“Bald muscleheads. They all look the same to me.”

I paused, pretending to think, though I already knew what to do next. After a couple of seconds, I looked at Jan.

“How about we take a look at their faces?”

“What do you mean?”

I returned to my workstation, sat down at my computer, accessed the personal server remotely, and launched a video file. The screen lit up with footage of Jan’s apartment, where he was sitting with a beer in front of the TV. Jan had moved behind me.

“What the…,” he began. “You installed a camera in my apartment?”

“Did you think I’d let you near a billion dollars after a week of knowing you? I need to be one hundred percent sure about my people. This was a necessary measure. You should be grateful. Around what time did they attack you?”

Jan didn’t know whether to be angry or genuinely pleased. But the desire for revenge against the criminals outweighed his indignation over my surveillance.

“Around ten in the evening.”

I rewound the video to the moment Jan stepped out of the room with an empty bottle.

“One was hiding in the kitchen,” Jan said. “I’ll go into the room, and the second will be waiting there.”

For several seconds, nothing happened on the video until Jan suddenly burst back into the room, only to find it empty—no one was chasing him. He abruptly stopped and unexpectedly grabbed his throat, then began to punch himself in the face.

I did my best to look surprised, even though I had already watched this setup a hundred times. Each time, I couldn’t help but laugh, picturing Jan’s expression when I showed him the video. I made a concerted effort to compose myself and suppress my laughter.

In the video, Jan was hitting himself in the face, then he doubled over and began hitting himself in the stomach before spinning around and throwing himself over the couch. Originally, all the stunts had been performed by an actor, and the footage was filmed in Jan’s apartment while he was at work. To stage the attack, I had to find the biggest muscleheads with the most unconventional orientations. For the money I offered, they agreed to do literally any job. The fight was choreographed so that no items in the apartment would be harmed—except for Jan, of course.

His beating in the middle of the room and the throw over the couch were essential parts of the act. Twelve takes were filmed in various outfits that Jan had worn while lounging in front of the TV. Later, graphic artists worked on the video, transforming the actor's face into an exact replica of Jan's. When everything happened last night, they simply sent me the finished clip. After watching it, Jan twitched nervously and grimaced.

“Am I in some damn ‘Hidden Camera’ show!?” he growled. “Are people going to burst out from every corner shouting ‘You’ve been pranked’?”

With the most serious expression I could muster, I stood up from my chair.

“I don’t know what’s happening with you, but we’re going to the hospital.”

“I’m not crazy!” Jan shouted, as if trying to convince himself. “I’m not going anywhere! This is all you... you set this up!” He pointed a finger at me.

“Oh really?” I replied. “I intentionally hire staff, pay them a fortune, just to mess with you. I have nothing better to do.”

I watched as Jan was torn apart by internal conflicts. He paced back and forth, angrily smiling. It seemed that he would have to forget his former sarcastic grin, which he loved to wear in prison, for a long time. This fact thrilled me.

“I don’t throw away people who do their jobs well,” I said, stepping out from behind the desk and approaching Jan. “I need you. But in a functional state. Right now, we’re going to the hospital, and the doctors are going to examine you.”

I gestured toward the elevator. After hesitating, Jan swallowed my flattery and complied.

We arrived at the hospital fairly quickly. The doctor I had prepared in advance performed a CT scan of Jan’s head and asked us to wait in the office. After fifteen minutes, he returned with the images in hand and a somber expression on his face. I noted to myself that he played the role quite convincingly.

“I have some not-so-good news for you,” he began, holding the brain scans up to the light.

I looked at Jan and noticed how tense he had become.

“You have a brain tumor,” the doctor said, pointing with a pen at a small spot on the scans. “But that’s not the worst part. Nowadays, tumors are quite successfully removed, but the location of yours complicates everything.”

“Damn it, that can’t be,” Jan sighed heavily.

“The problem isn’t even the inaccessibility; it’s the areas it’s pressing on. When you told me he was hitting himself, I felt a sense of déjà vu. I’ve encountered similar cases before. A colleague of mine had several patients with comparable symptoms.”

“Did they recover?” Jan interjected.

“Two out of five,” the doctor replied, causing Jan to feel even worse. “The thing is, before the surgery, a certain preparation is required. Specific medications are prescribed to reduce tissue swelling around the tumor, to prevent seizures, and so forth. Unfortunately, the first three patients couldn’t survive that period. But my colleague learned from their treatments and managed to save the last two. You need to see her urgently.”

The doctor provided contacts for her colleague, Anna, and we immediately scheduled an appointment for noon. As we exited the hospital, I reveled in Jan’s pale face, though I carefully concealed my delight. He had never looked so dejected and... yes, scared! He had swallowed everything I had thrown at him—or was still chewing it over, ready to gulp it down at any moment. We were heading toward the climax, and now everything depended on Anna.

I wasn’t planning to go with Jan; he was an adult and could handle it himself. I had promised him full coverage of his medical expenses and all kinds of support—such a caring boss I was. After heading to the office, I settled comfortably into my chair in front of the monitor, preparing for the viewing. The screen displayed a live feed from Anna's office. She was over forty, not the most beautiful woman, but her intelligent eyes were inviting enough to believe every word she spoke.

Half an hour later, she approached the door and let Jan into the office.

“Good afternoon,” Jan mumbled. “We had an appointment for twelve.”

“Yes, of course, come in. Have a seat.”

Jan sat on the couch and handed the doctor the scans of his brain. Anna reviewed them thoughtfully in the light, nodding confidently.

“Painfully familiar spots. I was told you’re hitting yourself. How long has this been going on?” she asked, settling into a chair opposite Jan.

“Since last night. But I’m still not sure about it.”

“Did you think someone else was hitting you?”

“I thought… I think. I don’t know what to believe now.”

“The human brain is a remarkable organ. Sometimes it’s capable of incredible and simply inexplicable things. Have you heard of the ordinary plumber who got hit on the head and woke up the next morning a mathematical genius?”

“No, and what of it?”

“I say this because our brain can do anything. We don’t know nearly as much about it as we’d like. You shouldn’t ignore what it’s trying to tell you.”

“And what is it trying to tell me, in your opinion?”

“How many attackers were there?”

“Two.”

“Did they attack just to beat you up? Or did they want something from you first?”

Jan squirmed on the couch, hesitant to give a direct answer.

“What are these questions for?” he snapped. “If it’s about the tumor, I want to get rid of it. Can you help with that?”

Anna looked intently at Jan, then picked up the remote and turned on the television with the prepared video.

“I’ve had five patients with identical situations over the past ten years. They beat themselves half to death. This video is from the hospital where they underwent treatment.”

On the screen, a patient was hitting himself in the face with all his might. The image changed to another patient repeatedly banging his head against a nightstand. A third patient charged into a wall. Jan stared at the video in shock, his mouth slightly open.

“All of them insisted they were being beaten,” Anna continued. “Some by one person, others by a whole group. The first patients died two weeks after the hallucinations began. They resisted their imagined attackers so fiercely that they developed an aneurysm in their brain, which eventually burst. And all because they weren’t fully honest with me.”

Anna started the next video file but paused it immediately.

“Thanks to the fourth patient, we found a way to fix the situation. He wasn’t afraid to admit what he was commanded to do before being beaten. Every time, sick children were brought to him and ordered to shoot them. The same happened with the fifth patient—he was told to eat live spiders. Their inflamed brains forced them to do what they feared the most. The first had worked with sick children his whole life and dreaded their deaths; the second was a severe arachnophobe. I persuaded them to yield to the brain’s demands, and here’s what happened.”

Anna played the video. On the screen, a man extended his hand as if holding a gun, aiming it at someone. He squinted and moved his finger as if shooting. In the next second, he opened his eyes and, surprised, relaxed his hand, as if the gun had magically vanished. The next video showed another patient eating invisible spiders from an invisible plate, through visible sobs. After “swallowing” a few servings, he opened his eyes and realized that there was no plate of spiders at all. Anna paused the video.

“Both of these men killed children and ate spiders every day,” Anna said, using her fingers to make air quotes. “Neither of them had an aneurysm. They successfully passed the preparatory period, after which their tumors were successfully removed.”

“What are you suggesting?” Jan asked angrily. “That I let two muscle-bound guys rape me?”

“Is your fear being raped?” Anna asked, surprised, as she stood up from her chair. She removed her lab coat and tossed it onto the chair.

“I worked as a guard in a prison. The inmates constantly raped someone. What could be worse than that?”

Suddenly, Anna unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse. Then she licked her finger and ran it across her chest.

“What… what are you doing?” Jan stammered.

“Nothing, I’m just sitting and listening to you,” Anna replied, unfastening her long skirt.

“That’s not funny at all!” Jan said, starting to panic.

“What do you see?” Anna asked, as her skirt dropped to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jan lowered his head and covered his eyes.

“I’m sitting in the chair and not moving. Just wait a second.”

Jan raised his head and was confronted with Anna's nearly naked backside as she bent over the remote control. She switched the channel on the TV.

“Look at the screen,” the doctor said. “What do you see happening right now in the office?”

Jan looked and was even more dumbfounded. On the screen, he saw himself in the office and Anna opposite him, peacefully resting in her chair. He raised his hand and waved, confirming that the video was being broadcast live.

“What’s happening to me?” he asked, genuinely frightened.

I couldn’t hold back my laughter as I watched this circus unfold on my monitor in the office. Perhaps I should clarify how I managed to pull this off. Once again, it was thanks to the professionalism of my technicians. They had attached barely noticeable sensors to Anna, rendering her completely invisible to the specialized camera. Since there were eight interconnected cameras around the perimeter of the office, the image was transmitted flawlessly, without the slightest distortion in the area where the doctor was actually located. By using editing, Jan could see Anna supposedly sitting in her chair. This is how far technology has come.

Meanwhile, Anna had removed her clothes, leaving only her underwear. She was bending and swaying in front of Jan like a real stripper. He didn’t know where to look.

“What do you think I’m doing right now?” Anna asked.

“Dancing a striptease,” Jan replied, cradling his head in his hands.

“Just don’t get nervous. This is a normal hallucination. No one is threatening you, right?”

Jan kept glancing at the screen, comparing the image with what was happening in front of his eyes.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. One of the other doctors entered the office. He approached Anna and handed her a folder. Jan quickly stared at the screen, but saw the dressed Anna standing before the doctor.

“They asked me to give this to you at the reception,” the guest said.

“Thank you,” Anna replied, taking the folder.

The doctor didn’t seem to notice that Anna was in her underwear and left calmly. Jan watched the video as Anna returned to her chair, while in front of him, she continued to dance.

I had come up with this scene at the last minute, wanting to finally crush Jan's doubts. And it seemed to be working. He covered his face with his hands and began to breathe heavily.

“How do I stop this crap?” he growled.

“Try to calm down, close your eyes, and count to ten out loud,” I suggested.

Jan took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and began to count. Anna quickly put on her skirt and blouse, buttoned everything up, threw on her coat, and silently sat back in her chair. When Jan finished counting, he opened his eyes and looked at the doctor. She was looking back at him with a calm, intelligent gaze.

“Did it work?” Anna asked. “Am I already in my chair? Is everything okay?”

“Nothing is okay!” Jan panicked. “This is complete nonsense. I CAN’T TAKE IT!!!” he shouted, pointing at the screen.

Anna flinched slightly but quickly composed herself.

“You just have to realize that all of this is unreal,” she said in a calming tone. “Everything is happening only in your mind. You don’t even need to be hospitalized for treatment. The last patient was treated at home. We set up a camera in his apartment and connected it to the TV. Every time, he could confirm that what was happening was a hallucination. We’ll do the same for you. When you feel like someone is coming for you, just look at the TV screen. The sooner you stop resisting, the better your chances for a successful operation.”

Jan began rubbing his temples with his fingers.

“This is all crazy. Just crazy.”

“Everything will be alright. I’ll also prescribe some medications for you. You’ll need to take them every day until the surgery. If you follow all my recommendations, it will all be over in a month.”

Anna began writing out a list of medications. Jan covered his face with his hands, and I hoped silently that he was crying without making a sound. I leaned back in my chair with one single thought—I’m a damn genius.

***

Culmination!

My miracle scenario reached its most decisive point. That same day, I hired people to connect a camera in Jan’s apartment to his television. He didn’t go into details about his treatment but mentioned he was taking a month off. I promised to keep his job for him while I disbanded the staff and moved out of the office. However, I didn’t dismiss everyone. I left the technicians to monitor Jan online and report any potential problems.

For my complete happiness, he was supposed to be “treated” for a whole month. And with technology, anything could happen in that time. I just hoped the sensors on the muscle-bound guys wouldn’t malfunction.

Around eight in the evening, Jan took the necessary pills and sat down to watch TV. I probably don’t need to explain that the pills weren’t for reducing tissue swelling in the area of the tumor, or anything like that? The packaging, of course, matched what Anna had prescribed, but inside were ordinary tranquilizers. Well, not just any tranquilizers, but ones of very high quality. They didn’t make him drowsy but did relax him nicely. Just what Jan needed.

I was really hoping Jan wouldn’t resist and would listen to the smart doctor from day one. But just in case, I ensured that his gun only had blank cartridges. God forbid he decided to shoot at hallucinations for reassurance.

Just like the first time, the muscle-bound guys appeared in the apartment unnoticed. They surrounded Jan’s couch and looked at him with hungry eyes. Startled, he immediately switched the channel. On the screen, his room appeared, and no one was standing near the couch. The sensors were working perfectly, and the cameras were doing their job.

“Don’t resist,” one said.

“You need this,” the second chimed in. Just as they’d been taught.

Jan looked broken and pathetic. Partly from the effects of the pills, and partly from the oppressive thoughts of what he was about to endure. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

“This is all unreal,” he murmured. “Unreal.”

He began to count out loud to ten. The muscle-bound guys exchanged surprised glances but decided to wait it out. If Jan started to resist, they’d have to beat him up again. After all, they were here for something else.

Jan finished counting and looked around, hoping the uninvited guests had disappeared. But they were still standing there. One of them stepped closer to him.

“You need this,” he repeated.

With hope, Jan looked at the television screen again. No one was standing there. He rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“Take it off,” the second ordered.

Jan didn’t move for a long time. The muscle-bound guys waited patiently and began to clench their fists. I sadly thought that this would be the end when suddenly, Jan, with trembling hands, unexpectedly took off his pants. He was mouthing the words, “This is all unreal.”

One of the muscle-bound guys pushed him onto the couch, lowered his own pants, positioned himself behind Jan, and…

***

I slammed my laptop shut, not wanting to witness what would come next. Men shouldn’t have to see that. I immediately received a text from the technician: "It’s heating up, congratulations." I took a sip of beer from my glass and leaned back in my chair with a smile. It was a pleasant summer evening at a cozy table in a small café. I was overwhelmed with a sense of duty fulfilled and, to be honest, genuine happiness.

I admired my ingenuity; after all, Jan had willingly submitted. He hadn’t been forced—I'd discarded that strategy right away. Although, organizing something like that would have been much simpler. But in that case, I would have had to lower myself to his level, and I wasn’t interested in that kind of arrangement.

I didn’t regret the money or time spent deceiving Jan. Every penny was worth it. I even thought that in my old age, I could write a book with a long title like "How to Make an Enemy Willingly Agree to Be Taken from Behind."

You might ask, "By the way, after the climax comes the resolution. Where is it?" The resolution awaits Jan in a month when he goes to the hospital, and no one has heard of his doctors. He’ll call me, and the number will be out of service. He’ll get his brain scanned again, and there will be no tumors—there never were. And in the end, he’ll receive a video of his carnal pleasures with two men and realize that everything had been real. That’s when his psyche will finally break.

By that time, I will have moved abroad and will fully engage in investments. Real estate and the film industry are waiting for me.

Reaching for my glass, I jumped in surprise—sitting at my table was some guy in sunglasses. The sun had long since hidden behind a distant high-rise.

“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” the guy said, looking at me.

“Sunny,” I replied without missing a beat. “It’s shining right in my eyes, isn’t it?”

The guy smirked and nodded his head. “Clever.”

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

“No, I’m doing great. But you, as I can see, could use some help.”

Now it was my turn to smirk.

“Got it. You’re one of those… Jehovah’s Witness types, right? I don’t need your help. And don’t try to sell me on God. To wrap this up quickly, here you go.” I pulled a hundred-dollar bill from my pocket and tossed it on the table. “Real hundred bucks. I’m having a great day.”

“Of course,” the guy leaned on the table but didn’t touch the money. “Great day, great life. Millions of dollars, houses, cars, girls. Worst enemies have it from behind. The dream of anyone, right?”

I straightened in my chair and looked around. Damn, of course, blackmailers threatening my life had to show up. Where would I be without them if I were a millionaire? It was a shame I hadn’t hired real security. I’d fix that oversight first if they didn’t shove me into a van.

“Who are you?” I looked at the guy, making sure there was no one suspicious around.

The guy stopped smiling and took off his glasses. His eyes sparkled an incredibly bright blue. It was as if, placed in darkness, he could shine with his eyes like headlights.

He leaned closer to me and, in a rather intimidating tone, said, “I’m the one who made it possible for you, loser, to start your life over.”