Gaston clenched his hands as he tried to stop the tears pricking at the corner of his gray eyes. He was in denial at first, miserable for the next months, but today, he learned to bear the bitter truth. He felt melancholy every time he remembered how everyone accused him of killing the Chairman. For a hundred times, he defended himself saying that he is innocent. Yet no one takes sides with the poor secretary like him. The only thing that is left to Gaston is ACCEPTANCE. Accept that he was framed. Accept that he has no future ahead of him. And accept that today, he will die. “Jurgen, when everyone was pointing at me, calling me a killer, a murderer, a monster, I… I…” Gaston shook his head as he lowered his eyes and continued, “I thought you’d be on my side at least. But you only came today when I am about to die.” Jurgen drew a deep breath before he leaned closer to the glass window. Through the small holes in the center of the rectangular glass, Gaston heard Jurgen’s breathing

“Father! This is too much!” Sonny complained. “Right! W-Why are you giving that much authority to a mere secretary?” Victoria followed. “Pardon. I didn’t say that I will give the corporation to Gaston. I said, he will temporarily manage the corporation,” Harold explained. “I am not sure who is the most qualified person to own Hamington. Until then, Gaston will manage it.” “Grandpa. This is unfair,” Jules added. “Let’s say that the b*stard… I mean, that Gaston won’t inherit Hamington. Still, do you expect us to bow our heads and listen to him? My pride cannot take this.” “A perfect leader can bow his head if it means lowering prejudice and ego.Gaston worked under my care for years. To put it simple, while everyone caused troubles, Gaston and I founded Hamington. There’s no other perfect person who can guide Hamington other than him. So, I want everyone to prove me that I am wrong.” One by one, piercing gaze went to Gaston’s side. He became the public’s enemy. Well, Gaston was used

Jurgen went to the pub to drink. He was wearing a button up shirt and tie, which are his uniform as Chairman’s guard. Sitting alone, he grabbed his drink and jugged his beer. “W-Why… Why are you… you doing this to me, Gaston?” he talked alone. His glossy eyes which were drifting around the space blinked slowly. With his haw hanging slack, he continued. “I am your friend! Why do you have to kick me t-that way?!” he shouted before slamming the desk. Other customers in the pub looked into his way and went back to their own business. Jurgen washed his reddened face with his dry palms and messed up his brown hair. He was so confused. Last night, Gaston and him were doing fine. They even planned on camping together next week. It was Jurgen’s mistake that he told Divine about Gaston’s secret, but that is not enough for Gaston to kick him out of the mansion. “N-Now… what will I do?” Jurgen sobbed, crying with sarcastic smiles. He spent all of his money investing in a small business and

“Your Grandfather will die.” Griffti held his breath for a second. There was a gnawing silence between him and Gaston. And even if there were sounds of wind gushing and murmuring words, they were muted down. The two of them looked at each other for long seconds, until Griffti detached his lips. “Is he… sick?” “No,” Gaston replied. “If he’s not sick, then why are you telling me that he’s going to die?” Because Gaston came from the future. It was hard to find evidence of a murder that hadn’t happened yet. Therefore, telling Griffti that he came from the future is the only explanation Gaston has as of now. But will Griffti believe him? Gaston took a deep breath. His secret is not something that is easy to share. Not candy, juice or chips which are easy to digest. Anyone who hears this might think that he’s losing his mind. ‘However, the time limit is short,’ Gaston thought. He gathered his courage and opened his lips again. Then he said, “There is someone aiming for the Chairm

Griffti went to the park and sat on the bench. He stared at the large space then the inspiration came flooding inside his mind. He moved his hand and started drawing on his sketchbook. After some minutes, he finished drawing his park plan using his imagination. Griffti stared at his artwork with a proud smile. Looking at this is enough. He has no plan in using his talent to achieve more than this. Because he knows that with his mental illness, he does not deserve any of his professors' compliments. Sighing, Griffti enjoyed the breeze while sitting on the bench. He will meet Gaston later and talk about things that kept him awake all night. ‘Can he really tell the future?’ Griffti wondered. The result of the Fifa World Cup is one of his pieces of evidence. But Griffti needs to clarify more things. ‘Who knows. Maybe he’s friends with the Argentina National Team,’ Griffti said. “No,” he disagreed with his own idea. “Even though he has a connection with them, there’s no way to ma