Chapter 4: Graveyard

I walked into the main security office, and sure enough, there was Malcolm, holding down the fort's security, stationed right by the door, his gaze fixed on the entrance, prepared to deal with whatever was about to come through—and that's about seeing me again.

"You know that you don't have to stand there waiting for me," I told him, shrugging my shoulders. As I strolled towards the swivel chair next to the reception desk, I breezed past him like he was a mere statue planted on the carpeted ground.

I dropped my one-of-a-kind Dogru Ilac dirty white feather shoulder bag, which is as tiny as my face. I ran my fingers through my hair and casually tossed them over my shoulder. Just as I crossed my legs, Malcolm gave the bag a look of bewilderment. His eyebrows creased.

"Why are you using that?" he asked; his bitter trail of voice smacked through my senses. I looked back at the bag before meeting his eye contact. I straightened my posture and shrugged my shoulders as I tossed off his question.

"Oh," I smirked. "It's a gift that the company had given to me during the deliberation of my supposedly contract offering," I replied with a smile at the end of my reasoning. But, nope, his face doesn't give me the same energy at all. 

"Throw that away," he demanded. He took a step forward, aiming to get his hands on my bag, but I quickly slapped his wrist. I then snatched my bag and enclosed it with my arms. 

"Don't touch my things!" I complained, giving him a side-eye. 

"You are the major face of our brand, Rosaline. You shouldn't be using other brands such as that crap!" he argued; his voice slightly high-pitched. He had his hand on his hip, scanning the area with a sour expression on his face. I gave him the once-over, batting my eyelashes and turning on the charisma. I flashed him the sweetest smile I could have and plopped my bag right on his table.

I rose to my feet, my trusty two-inch heels shouldering the burden as I walked towards him with whimsy. He caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye, but instead of extending a warm welcome, he decided to forge ahead. "Don't be upset," I whispered in the back of his ear. I trailed my hands from the sides of his shoulders to his chest. "I am basically utilizing it to become more familiar with its features. You know, I'd like to use it to our advantage by generating a concept that we could implement in our own enterprises too, you know," I was able to explain it without changing my upbeat tone.

I kept my eyes peeled for his reaction, biding my time for his response. It took him a hot minute before he laid hands on mine as he did turn to meet my eyes. "I see," he said, locking eyes with me. He gave myself a good shove, sending me fluttering into the swivel chair, and then he trapped me by taking hold of both armrests. 

I was staring up at his face, as dull as my bag underneath the table, unable to put my finger on it, as he just kept staring into my eyes like he was looking into a mirror. Out of the blue, in the blink of an eye, his lips came crashing onto mine, as frigid as ice meeting friction. He gave it a double smooch, just like a young lovebird's game, before sinking his teeth into the bottom, causing a snap to echo between us. I replied as I savored the flavor of cherry-like cascading down my gullet from my taste buds.

I was in sync with his smooth moves as he slowly closed in and took hold of my waist, pulling me towards him. Just when things were about to heat up, he suddenly got cold feet and straightened his posture, fixing his necktie, leaving me hanging when I thought he was going to make another move.

"What's with that?" I asked, blinking my eyes.

"I don't know. You made me do it—" What? 

My eyes widened as I chuckled. "No, I didn't—"

"I have a special meeting with a group of people tonight. I need you to join me," he cut me off with a snap back to business as he tucked his shirt and pivoted his body facing the table. "This is your first task to comply with your second role in this company."

"You mean my second role as your companion," I corrected him.

He looked me downward with his head slanted and heaved a sigh. "You'll soon understand."

—

Soon after, I ended up right in the middle of a wilderness that was as empty as a ghost town. Not a soul in sight, and not a single paved road in sight either. It's been a real rollercoaster ride, and I even bumped my noggin on the side window a few minutes back. Watching the world here is like being in a never-ending pickle. The towering trees, the colossal shrubs, and even the spots teeming with plant shadows in the distance—and, without a doubt, the dense fog.

"What's this place?" I asked. I have been working here for the past six to seven years, yet I have not been to this place or even heard about it. I wondered if Malcolm also hides something illegal underneath his thriving company. I mean, if this is the case, then it makes sense how he just didn't report me to the FBI after knowing about my crimes. 

"Just wait." I sighed.

We were in the backseat of the car, with a barrier of separation blocking our view of the unknown wheelman. For sure, Malcolm knew who it was, but I hadn't seen the driver even until we made it inside this vehicle. I couldn't get my mind off the possible traps he had set up as we ventured through the tightest spots of this forest. What if he's setting me up with the FBI because of the crimes I committed? What if—

"We're here," Malcolm caught my eye out of the blue. I was scratching my head from pondering too much, and now I found myself just casting my eyes around what appeared to be an underground society. The houses were a dime a dozen, mostly bamboo structures, but right in the middle stood a grand mansion, decked out with antique flair and a colossal waterfall that was just meters away. There were butterflies aplenty, with lush vegetation as green as the envy of an alien's eye and as colorful as a beast's bright plumage.

Malcolm took the lead and I followed accordingly, stepping out of the vehicle. An old man welcomed us with his solid sword at his side. He's dressed in a laid-back snooze attire, and I haven't got an idea what they even call it. He's as bald as the stone and his eyes are as sunken as the waterfall's reservoir. His tattoos were filled to the brim with dragons and symbols that were detailed. I hadn't laid eyes on anything like them in my entire life.

"Thank you for visiting us, Connie," the old man greeted Malcolm as he bowed half-way. My eyes widened as I pivoted my sight at him. 

He calls Malcolm as Connie?

"Connie?" I whispered to Malcolm.

He signaled the bodyguards to guide the old man back to the mansion. As soon as the two of us left, he whispered back to me. "They didn't know that I am a CEO." 

"Who are they?" My curiosity had arisen more and more as the time passed. But instead of giving me an answer, he smirked and walked away. 

As we entered the mansion, I couldn't keep my eyes away from the statues of deities like figures mounted from the ground—or let me say, tombstones. A graveyard filled with blossoming plants that looked like they were rooting underground—perhaps from the dead people's bodies. My jaw hung slightly open after reading through their ages; most of them died at a young age. My mind kept swirling about these people's identity and the reason they were buried here.

"Don't be afraid. They died because their lives have been meaningful and they have lived a fulfilled existence," Malcolm suddenly inserted as I was arguing between my inner thoughts. He appeared beside me out of nowhere. I thought he was already with that old man, having some serious talks. 

"What do you mean?"

"Let's go inside." 

I rolled my eyes. And with heavy footsteps and shoulders shaking as I complained, I followed him from behind. 

—

"You don't have to worry, Connie. Those teenagers are trained very well to sustain a longer duration of fights against werewolves and lycans. They will surely survive," Old Carson, the old man who greeted him earlier with a cynically literal same with his first name, informed us. 

It was just the three of us, Malcolm, Old Carson, and me, gathered 'round the humble table, with our simple meals adorning its surface. I thought it was as bare flesh as it gets, with just veggies on the plate and a mere drop of rice. The cutlery and dishes were as small as my palm, so I had to pick them up and look at their one-of-a-kind charm. But it wasn't just the food that made my stomach growl with its mini proportions, but also the plethora of knowledge I soaked up just eavesdropping on their conversation. 

The last remark from Old Carson really grabbed my interest, even with the waterfalls drenching us from behind. My eyes even twitched as I could already get a sense of what this place and this conversation were all about.