At the entrance of the Parliament Building, Karisman cradled a wooden box full of documents, looking dejected as if life had just given him a hard kick.
One hour ago, his life had been smooth sailing, stable and steady. Although he was just an inconspicuous little employee, he at least had access to the real high-ups, listening to the conversations of those parliamentarians and bureaucrats every day, which made him feel like he was the master of this Hell.
Such days should have continued until he was scolded by his boss for stepping into a door with his left foot first. Then his boss brought up old accounts from a month ago, penalizing him by sending him to transcribe records at a suburban funeral home by hand, not allowing him to return until completed.
Undoubtedly, this was blatant bullying.
However, even if he filed a complaint, no one paid attention.
