章節 2: Chapter 2: Nightmare
*Ring*
Soon, the call was answered, and a familiar voice came through.
"Hey Sam! How's it going?"
"As usual. I called you because of an issue."
"No problem. You know I'm here for you."
Sam, the young man, laughed softly at the comment and responded, "Okay, but just like always, you'll need to take care of the company tomorrow." "Hmm. But are you okay? You know you can share anything with me." Still smiling faintly, Sam replied, "Nothing much. Just a bad dream."
"That nightmare again? Don't worry about it. I'll handle everything." There was a brief pause before the voice on the other end added, "Just take care of yourself."
"Thanks."
"Come on, is there really a need for thanks between us?"
With a light laugh, Sam replied, "Okay," and disconnected the call. He muttered to himself, "Thank God I still have one loyal friend." His fatigued expression softened, some of the wear from overworking lifting off his shoulders.
In this life, Sam could say with confidence that he could blindly trust the young man who had appeared on the screen. He owed him a great deal. In his darkest times, this friend had stuck by his side for those hard three to four months. Their families were also supportive, something Sam didn't take lightly.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Sam's gaze fell on the tablet again as he dialed another number, this time making a voice call.
*Ring*
The call connected.
"Mohan will handle the company tomorrow, and I need you to assist him," Sam instructed.
"Yes, sir," came the quick response before the line disconnected.
Sam let out a sigh of relief, rising from his seat. "That's enough for today," he murmured to himself. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "Let's do some light exercise." He headed towards the gym room, filled with top-tier equipment.
Without hesitation, he made his way to the treadmill. Starting at a walking pace, he gradually increased his speed until he was running, releasing the tension of the day with every step.
Sometimes later
Panting, he shut down the treadmill, wiping away the sweat. "That's enough for now," he muttered, heading toward the shower. This time, he opted for a cold one.
Twenty minutes later, he was seated at the dining table, enjoying a variety of dishes. "My cooking skills have reached chef level," he remarked with a narcissistic grin, licking his lips as he cleared the table. After a proper cleanup, he settled back into his chair, glancing at his wristwatch.
"I've only got two months left to finish the project," he sighed, rotating his right hand, his eyes resting on the tattoo. With a wry smile, he muttered to himself, "I really don't have time to waste." Without delay, he dove back into his work, typing away at the code, testing it rigorously.
Time slipped by as his eyelids grew heavier. Eventually, he dozed off at his desk, a regular scene for him. His breathing was calm and steady, but suddenly, his brow furrowed, and his breath quickened. Without warning, he jolted awake, clutching his head. His vision blurred with blinding whiteness, and his face turned pale. He tried to scream, but all that came out was a miserable, strangled sound.
Needles of pain pierced his brain, the agony so intense it made him dizzy. He had no idea what was happening, and the fear of passing out kept him fighting to stay conscious. He knew if he fainted, there was no telling what might happen next.
Summoning all his strength, he reached for the tablet on the table, his fingers trembling as he tapped the emergency contact. Two options appeared:
- Mohan
- 112
Without hesitation, he tapped on Mohan's name. Thankfully, the call connected quickly, but the pain was so overwhelming he could barely hear. He shouted with all his remaining strength, "Mohan, I need your—" before his vision went black and he collapsed onto the desk, unconscious.
...
Mohan was hunched over, reviewing some documents, dark circles heavy under his eyes. He cursed quietly, muttering, "God, what did I do in my past life to deserve this punishment?" Suddenly, his phone rang.
*Ring.*
"These devils..." he grumbled, picking up the call with a yawn. "Hey man, why are you calling at this...," but before he could finish his sentence, a word from the other end struck him. His eyes widened in alarm. In an instant, he stood up, shouting, "Mom! I'm heading to my friend's house!" Without waiting for a response, he dashed out of his room, grabbed his car keys, and raced outside.
The engine roared to life, and in no time, his car sped down the road, slicing through the night air. The exhaustion that had weighed on him moments ago vanished, replaced by sharp focus. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead despite the air conditioning blasting in the car. His breathing was fast but controlled, and his furrowed brows reflected his anxious state. Under his breath, he muttered, "Just hold on... I'm coming."
He pressed harder on the accelerator, the empty road stretching ahead, shrouded in pitch darkness. Thanks to the government, there were streetlights at regular intervals. However, many were defective, casting dim light, just enough to faintly illuminate the road ahead. Even so, the eerie atmosphere sent a chill through him. Dark thoughts raced through his mind, each more ominous than the last, but he shook his head, forcing himself to focus. "Stay calm. Focus on the road," he told himself.
He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. The call connected, and a polite female voice answered.
"How may I help you, sir?"
"Is there any quota available right now?" Mohan asked, urgency leaking into his tone.
"Sir, please hold for a moment while I check."
"Okay, but hurry."
A moment later, the voice returned. "I'm sorry, sir, but there are no quotas available at the moment."
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