As skeptical as he was that he was going to be accepted, Neville didn't have to wait long for a reply to come.
[Good day, Mr. Hope[1]!
Thank you for waiting!
We're pleased to inform you that you have successfully passed the assessment. We would like to invite you for a formal face-to-face interview with our hiring team. This will be a good opportunity for us to get to know you better and for you to learn more about the role and our company.
The interview will be held at…]
This email arrived in his inbox.
Neville smirked at the speed of this confirmation.
It seemed that he didn't need to wait for instructions from the system, nor did he need to ask for its assistance when things were this obvious.
Then, his smile became a frown.
Even though he secured an interview spot, he still needed to get funds to get there. The office was a continent away based on Earth's standards. Not to mention that he needed to look presentable and had to find an accommodation in case he was called the next day for a follow-up.
Neville felt mentally tired as he calculated the cost of this trip.
He looked at his bank account.
500 Star Coins.
Until where can I stretch this 500? Ice Cream?
"Shelly," Neville called out in the empty room.
[Yes, Host!] Shelly's cheerful voice instantly replied as she appeared beside him.
"Can you convert points into money?" he asked straight to the point.
Shelly seriously answered, [While it is indeed possible, it's highly inadvisable. The conversion of points to currency is 1:1.]
Neville's shoulders slumped. He also knew that even if it was plausible, it was impossible for him to reach that number of points by the time the interview came.
But man, it was an absolute robbery for the amount of effort that it will take to get that amount.
[The points' primary value is not in monetary conversion, Host,] Shelly elaborated, her tone shifting to that of a helpful guide. [They are meant for system-exclusive upgrades: enhancing skills, acquiring knowledge, or purchasing items from the System Mall. Using them for common currency is considered an emergency measure and a significant waste of your efforts.]
"Got it."
Shelly didn't need to explain more. He couldn't afford to squander a potential life-saving purchase that was earned through sheer effort.
Neville was left with one option.
He took a deep breath and swallowed down his pride.
…
And that was how Neville ended up in front of the Director's Office. His knuckles were just inches away from the dark wood.
He was nervous. His heart was pounding frantically like a bird beating its wings on the cage. But still, he forced himself to calm down and mask his expression.
He needed to act like any other orphan—respectful and perhaps a little scared.
It was exhausting, but at the same time, it was a constant reminder that he wasn't the original owner.
What if she knew? What if the original Neville had been close to the Director?
A thousand disastrous scenarios played out in his mind.
The System wasn't perfect.
If it were, it could've just solved everything by itself. But it wasn't; that was why even computers could have a virus in them.
Broke people have to act their part, he reminded himself, taking a shallow breath.
He had his plans A, B, and C ready.
It was time.
He knocked. The sound was softer than he intended.
A moment later, a calm, clear, and soft voice answered from the other side. "Come in."
Neville pushed the door open and felt his heart hammering its way out of his chest.
The office was clean and tidy. It smelled a little like old forgotten books of the interstellar era and a hint of chamomile tea.
The woman behind the desk was doing a few more checks on her tasks for the day and didn't look at him.
After a while, she looked at him and said, "Child, have a seat."
Neville sat in the chair in front of her desk.
Silence.
The director didn't press him and simply rose to pour herself a cup of tea. She moved unhurriedly.
It was a classic power move, whether intentional or not. It was working anyway. She was so comfortable with this silence that Neville had to be the one to break it.
"Uhm, Director, "He began, his voice was raspier than he wanted. She simply looked at him as she drank and nodded to urge him. "I'm here to make a request."
"I'm listening."
"I need to borrow some money," he blurted out, then immediately cringed at his thoughtlessness. "I-I mean, I need to secure traveling funds for a trip."
The director raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting.
Mustering his courage, Neville rushed to explain. "I received an email for an interview." He fumbled around and got his light brain. He immediately sent a copy of the email he received. "It is a formal interview. They needed to be done face-to-face, at the Headquarters of Maxwell Corporation."
As the Director read the email on her device, Neville swore he saw a shift in her demeanor. Her back straightened and her eyes flickered with a spark of—surprise? Pride? He didn't know because by the time he tried to check again, it was already gone.
"Maxwell Corporation." Her voice carried a certain weight. "Quite ambitious."
"Yes, director," Neville agreed to her sentiment, but still hopeful, "The interview is about less than a week from now. Will the orphanage be able to sponsor me? Also, I might need some extra for accommodation, just in case."
The Director set down her light brain and tea cup. Her gaze was deadlocked on his eyes. She said, "Consider this an investment."
A notification chimed into Neville's light brain. He glanced at the contents of the notification and took a sharp breath. A generous sum of Star Coins had been transferred directly to his account. It was more than enough to cover everything.
"Thank you! Thank you very much, Director!" Neville exclaimed, and a wave of genuine, overwhelming relief washed over him. He felt like he could finally breathe.
Then, a sudden panic caught him off guard as he remembered the date of the interview. "Also, Director, my residency period…"
She cut him off, not with words, but with a knowing look. With a slight wave of her hand, she managed to both dismiss him and reassure him.
She already knew. And she would handle it.
The interview was scheduled for the same day his graduation certificate would be officially registered. At that moment, the orphanage's automated systems would reclassify him as an adult.
By then, government-licensed robots would be dispatched to escort him out of the premises. But since he would not be present when that happened, his meager belongings would be incinerated instead.
Even the Director was helpless against the rigid programming of those machines. They abided by imperial law, not orphanage policy.
But there was always an exception—a single, precious loophole.
An orphan could formally apply for an extended stay for a maximum of 1 year. If approved, the robots would recognize them as an exception to the rule.
This request was rarely granted and could only be applied to one person at a time, making it a highly coveted lifeline. The Director had just granted it to him without him even having to ask.
A profound sense of gratitude washed over Neville.
He hadn't needed to beg or grovel. He hadn't needed to call in favors or make a scene. The Director had simply seen his opportunity, understood his situation, and provided the means to succeed.
This orphanage, and everyone in it, was so incredibly lucky to have her.
"But," The Director's voice turned grave and pulled him back to his senses. "This was not a favor without conditions. You will take this seriously. Whether you pass or fail, you will return and pass on what you learned to your siblings."
Neville immediately recalled the conversation he'd overheard. This was more than just him; it was about paving a path for the others.
"I understand," he said, his voice firm.
As Neville finally left the office, his mind replayed the entire encounter.
He had been trained in a black hell hole, forged to withstand unimaginable hardship. Yet, in front of the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, his mother in this life, he had nearly crumbled.
It was humbling and strangely enlightening.
'Shelly' Neville spoke with his inner voice.
[What is it, Host?] Her voice was a comforting presence in his head.
'Log a priority task for the System. No matter the cost.'
[Log Granted. What is the task?]
'Ensure the Director's happiness. Whether in this life or the next, whatever it takes, make sure she lives a long, happy life. She deserves it.'
There was a brief pause, and for a moment, Neville thought the request was too abstract and thus impossible to complete.
He was about to change it when he heard Shelly, [...Task Confirmed.]
'Thank you,' Neville thought.
A true, heartfelt smile finally reached his face.
For the first time, he felt that he could really finish this mission.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥
Neville wore a simple gray suit. In the reflection of a nearby window, he saw a stranger who looked clean, smart, and competent.
A professional con man was his first thought. (It was just him thinking that)
Neville hadn't wasted his time waiting for the interview. While the skill imparted to him by that black hell hole was brutally effective, his own confidence was an entirely different matter.
Skills could be perfected, but people were unpredictable.
What if they just didn't like him for no reason at all? Who could he blame then?
Absolutely, no one.
It was better safe than sorry.
Triple-checking was always an option.
—and so was running away.
[Host, we have arrived.] Shelly announced.
"I know," Neville muttered under his breath. "I can see that."
How could he not?
Right in front of him stood the towering fortress of the Maxwell Corporation Headquarters.
Using his meager creative vocabulary, he could only describe the building in front of him as a high-rise version of the Pentagon. Combined with the sleek, futuristic aesthetics of Apple and Google campuses.
It was an intimidating piece of architecture embodying the corporate power of the company.
His eyes traced the shimmering lines of the building up to a point where it was practically swallowed by the clouds in the sky.
Neville took a slow but deep breath and just quickly turned around.
[What are you doing, Host?] Shelly's voice rang in his mind, confused at his actions.
Neville plastered on a fake smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing."
[Host.] The confusion in her tone sharpened into suspicion. [You are aware that fleeing from the mission objective will not solve the problem, correct?]
"I know, I know," Neville replied awkwardly, beginning to stretch his arms in an exaggerated motion. "Just warming up. Loosening the old joints. One… two… one…"
Shelly seemed to accept this, but her follow-up was devastating. [To save you time, Host, I have already hailed a reception bot to guide you to the interview venue. It should be here in a moment.]
Neville's jaw went slack. The sense of betrayal was so acute that it felt like a physical blow. "You did what?"
[Ah, Host, have you perhaps forgotten how my core functions operate during a formal assessment?]
"No, I did not forget about that," he grumbled.
[Well, allow me to recite the rules,] Shelly said, her tone shifting to that of a system prompt voice. [For the fairness and integrity of the assessment, the System Guide is prohibited from directly influencing the Host's performance. The Host may still access the System Mall for item purchases if needed. However, unless a life-or-death situation is detected, the Guide must enter a low-power, non-interference mode.]
A cold dread settled in Neville's stomach. "You mean you're leaving me alone."
[More or less, Host.]
"Then get out and leave already," Neville shot back, thoroughly pissed off.
[You've got this, Host!] Shelly's voice was cheerful, a stark contrast to his mood. [We practiced this a dozen times! Remember the key points?]
Neville squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He recited the words in a calm, steady voice that only he could hear. "Maxwell Corporation, founded by the Maxwell family. Grayson Maxwell, the CEO, despises inefficiency and prefers to be addressed in a calm, unhurried voice. All communication must be clear and in perfect diction. No loud noises or sudden movements."
[See? You're all set! Good luck, Host!] And with a final, cheerful little pop, Shelly's presence vanished.
Neville opened his eyes, and the silence in his head felt unnervingly empty.
Tsk. She really just left me here.
Not long after, a sleek, humanoid robot glided towards him. Its optical sensors were glowing a soft blue.
"Mr. Neville Hope?" Its synthesized voice asked.
Neville gave a stiff nod and handed out his phone to show the QR code for verification.
"Please follow me." The robot turned and began to move.
Its pace was perfectly calibrated. As it led him through the cavernous, sunlit lobby, it began its pre-programmed tour.
"Welcome to the Maxwell Corporation Xylos Headquarters," the humanoid robot introduced. "The Maxwell HQ was built for sustainable architecture and integrated technology."
"The West Wing, to your left, houses our primary R&D laboratories. It is where the future is engineered today."
"To your right is the employee wellness complex. It featured zero-gravity meditation pods and a fully-equipped recreational center, as we believe a balanced life fuels innovation."
Neville was only blindly listening to the robot's explanation as his gaze swept across the polished walls and holographic displays.
In reality, his mind was already off to a distant black hole with beads of sweat dripping down his spine.
The robot's monologue was nothing but a meaningless noise against his restless heart.
As they stepped into the transparent sky bridge, the robot gestured with his metallic hand, "This sky-bridge connects the primary work sectors with the Central Executive Atrium below."
It continued, "It is a physical representation of our commitment to transparency and synergy across all departments."
Neville risked glancing downwards and took a sharp breath. Through the glass, he saw someone familiar.
It was Grayson.
Still looking as handsome as before.
Grayson was being followed by a bunch of employees, each clutching a stack of digital slates and random papers. The group briefly paused in the nearby seating area. In that moment, as if sensing his gaze, Grayson looked up.
Neville didn't know it was his imagination, but for a split second, their eyes seemed to have met.
He jolted, panicking for no reason.
But it was a fleeting moment.
The robot continued to guide him around and led him to a different section of the building.
...
...
Down in the Atrium, Grayson was bored out of his mind. He suppressed a sigh, his fingers drumming a silent, impatient rhythm on the polished table.
The assistants—both new and old—fluttering around him were still fumbling with concepts they should have mastered weeks ago. He felt less like a CEO and more like a teacher who was overseeing a class of failing students.
Just as he was stretching his neck up, his gaze locked onto a figure crossing the sky-bridge above.
He seemed familiar.
The posture, the sharp cut of the cheap suit…
Who?
"Bryan," Grayson stated, his voice flat and devoid of question. "The West Wing is unusually crowded today."
It was a statement of fact that demanded an explanation.
His Chief Assistant, Bryan, answered without missing a beat. "Sir, there is a formal interview cycle happening in that section of the building. The HR department is handling the entire process."
"I see," Grayson murmured, his gaze becoming distant for a second as he replayed the image of the face on the bridge.
The flicker of curiosity returned.
Without another word, Grayson stood. The sudden movement caused his entourage to fall silent.
"Patch the interview feeds to my office monitor," he commanded, already turning to leave, not bothering to look back. "This meeting is concluded."
Bryan, though momentarily surprised, simply nodded. "Yes, sir."
As Grayson walked away, his expression remained stoic, but his mind was already moving. A familiar face in a pool of new applicants. Let's see if there's any actual talent in this year's batch... or if it's just more of the same.
[1] Since Neville didn't have a surname. His surname is adopted from the orphanage he came from.