Manson's gaze remained fixed ahead as he strode through the hallway, the sharp click of his polished brown shoe echoed against the marble floor, each step measured and controlled.
Behind him, three bodyguards move in perfect formation.
The air shifted.
Staff members who had been chatting moments ago suddenly stiffened the second they noticed him approaching.
Conversation dies mid-sentence, laughter vanishes.
"G-Good morning, sir."
A nervous employee bowed their head quickly.
"Good morning, sir."
"Morning, sir."
Voices rose one after another in hurried succession.
But Manson ignored each one of them.
His expression remained unbothered, unreadable as he walked past.
By the time he reached the elevator, the crowd had already split apart, creating a wide path as if fleeing from a predator.
The elevator dinged softly.
The door slid open.
Two female employees inside froze the moment they saw him.
Their faces drained of color.
