Location : Hotel Boss.
The meeting between Oska and the NASA team was held on the fourth-floor poolside balcony, the air shimmering with morning heat and tension. Ten people were gathered there, including Oska.
"Mr. Oska, glad you could make it."
George Watterson greeted him warmly, extending a hand. "I'm George Watterson—the one who called earlier."
Oska shook his hand, still half in disbelief.
"Sorry I'm late. So… what's today's agenda?"
"The agenda?" George smiled. "Why, your research findings, of course."
"Ah, right," Oska said quickly. "I brought some documents I think you'll find interesting."
He pulled a bundle of worn papers from his battered bag and laid them on the table. The nine Americans leaned in, eyes sharp with curiosity. One by one, they scanned through his notes, their expressions shifting from mild interest to genuine intrigue.
A bald man with keen eyes spoke up first.
"So your theory is based on magnetic principles?"
"Magnetic?" Oska frowned. "I'm… not sure I follow."
"C'mon," the man said. "According to your calculations, Earth's gravity rotates counterclockwise—from right to left. That means, theoretically, a magnetic field aligned with that direction could counteract gravity itself. Like magnet."
George nodded approvingly. "It's all here. Every formula, every detail recorded meticulously by you. We just need to run the lab tests."
Then, with a calm but serious tone, he added,
"So, Mr. Oska, would you be willing to come to America to continue this research?"
"Now?" Oska blinked. "That's… quite sudden. My situation's a bit complicated."
"Why hesitate?" George smiled faintly. "We're prepared to offer you one billion dollars as an advance for the patent rights."
Oska froze.
"One… billion dollars?"
The man in sunglasses standing behind George opened five large suitcases.
Inside, neatly stacked bundles of cash gleamed under the sunlight.
"You can take it now if you sign the contract," the man said smoothly. "Or, if you prefer, we can issue a check instead."
Oska swallowed hard, his pulse racing. "I… must admit, Mr. George, your offer is tempting. But I'm not sure about traveling to the U.S. Couldn't we continue the research here in this city?"
The NASA members huddled together, whispering among themselves. Oska waited in silence, unsure if he'd just blown the opportunity of a lifetime.
Finally, George spoke again.
"If that's your personal request, we'll have to consult our superiors. However, if your theory proves correct, there's potential to base part of the operation here."
"I see…" Oska murmured.
"So," George said, leaning forward, "are you willing to join us in developing anti-gravity technology?"
"Well…I might need a few days to think."
"Three days," George replied. "That should be enough, right? We'll spend the meantime exploring the country."
Oska nodded. "That works for me."
George handed him a sleek silver card. "Call me when you're ready, Mr. Oska."
"Thank you," Oska said quietly. "I will."
And then an hour later, Oska decided to go back to his office with his new wife.
Back at Stevanie's office, the mood was far from professional. As soon as Oska stepped through the door, he was met with the storm.
"Where have you been?" Stevanie snapped, eyes blazing. "I've been waiting for hours!"
"I told you I'd be gone for two," he said carefully.
"Late is late. Hand over two thousand dollars as a penalty."
"Two thousand? You said fifty per five minutes!"
"That was before you wasted my time," she hissed. "Pay up—or I'll make it three."
Grinding his teeth, Oska pulled out the money and handed it over. The resentment burning in his chest was almost unbearable. A billion dollars sat waiting on one side of his life, and on the other—a tyrant draining him dry.
Stevanie continued without pause, as though nothing had happened.
"Take note of my schedule. Lunch at noon. Meeting with investors at the Grand Copthorne in an hour. After that, at one o'clock, distributors will pick up the supplies."
Oska sighed. "May I ask what this company actually does?"
"You don't know?" She glared at him. "Bai Cheng is one of the leading motorcycle manufacturers in Caelora City."
"My apologies," he muttered. "I haven't heard of it before."
"Really? Well then, maybe it's time for a tour. Come with me."
For the next half hour, Stevanie showed him around—the production lines, the packaging division, the showrooms. Oska scribbled notes, though most of it went over his head. Still, he started to grasp just how massive her operation was.
"So, do you understand now?" she asked curtly.
"More or less…"
"Good. What's next on my schedule?"
"You're supposed to meet the distributor who's coming to pick up supplies."
"Then let's wait in the office."
But after an hour of waiting with no sign of the expected distributor, Stevanie began pacing nervously around the office. Mr. Han was busy playing with Annchi as usual, while Oska remained absorbed in his notes.
Then—the office phone rang.
Oska answered. "Hello, Bai Cheng Company. How can I help you?"
He froze. Something about the voice on the other end made his stomach twist. Stevanie noticed his hesitation and snatched the phone.
"Hello, who is this?"
"Ms. Stevanie? Finally! I've been waiting for almost an hour at the Grand Copthorne. Are we still meeting?"
"Oh—you're the investor I spoke to yesterday. I thought our meeting was at eleven?"
"What are you talking about? We agreed on ten! It's nearly eleven now. If this is how you conduct business, we can call it off."
Stevanie's face drained of color.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir. It's my new assistant's mistake. Please give us fifteen minutes—we'll be there right away."
"You have ten," the man said coldly, and the line went dead.
The room went silent.
Then—SLAM!
Stevanie slammed the phone down, hair falling over her face. When she looked up, her eyes were pure fury.
"Boss, I—"
SLAP!
The sound cracked through the air like a whip.
Oska's cheek stung, his mind blank.
"You're a fucking idiot! You mixed up my appointments! The investor's been waiting half an hour while the distributor isn't due until one. Do you have any idea how much this could cost me?"
"…I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I don't need your apology! I want you to give me another two thousand dollars."
"What?! Again?"
"Yes—again! Your mistake might cost millions, can you pay for that?!" Her voice rose to a sharp, icy pitch. "If this deal falls through, you'll wish you'd never come abroad."
Without a word, Oska handed her the last of his salary. Annchi and Mr. Han stayed silent, watching helplessly as the storm raged on.
"Now get your ass up," Stevanie snapped, grabbing her bag. "We're leaving. The investor's waiting."
Oska followed her quietly, head lowered, the sting of her slap still burning on his skin.
Yet beneath that pain, a spark of defiance began to stir.
If NASA's offer was real, this might be his one chance to break free—forever.