Grabbing his bag, August walked over to Reed, who was at the table, deeply engrossed in his colorful crayons and drawing sheets, blissfully unaware of everything—or perhaps just choosing to ignore it.
"Alright, Candy," August said, trying to inject confidence into his voice. "Today, Daddy's going to make some big bold moves."
Reed looked up, his eyes bright. "Daddy, big truckie?"
"Not quite, but something important," August replied, ruffling the kid's hair. "You stay here, wait for Mama Celine, and I'll be back soon. Be a good baby, okay?"
Reed nodded, a serious expression on his face. "Okay, Daddy."
After a quick glance in the mirror, he pulled on a navy blue coat, trying to project model-like professionalism despite the nerves swirling in his stomach. 'Just breathe,' he reminded himself.
The plan was simple: head to King & Glory's headquarters, make a good impression, and find a way to connect with King Von.
Stepping outside, the air felt charged with possibility. 'I can definitely do this,' he thought. The streets bustled with life—cars honked, vendors called out, and people chatted. Just the sign he needed for today's task. Thank goodness Day had sent the contact details right after he left.
He took a deep breath, focusing on his goal as he made his way toward Blackstone Shore, the brain of King & Glory Entertainment.
Arriving at the towering building, August felt small beneath its imposing structure. 'Wow,' he thought. 'This place is something else.'
The glass facade reflected the sky, an illusion of openness that masked the power contained within. He hesitated for a moment, taking in the sleek design and the people moving purposefully inside.
"Here goes nothing," he murmured to himself before pushing through the revolving door.
The lobby buzzed with energy, a blend of polished marble and modern art.
He approached the reception desk, where a young woman with a professional demeanor greeted him. "Welcome to King & Glory. How can I assist you today?"
"I'm here to see Mr. King Von," he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.
The receptionist's smile faltered slightly. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but I'd like to leave a message," August replied, determination solidifying his resolve. "It's urgent."
"Urgent, huh?" She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Please have a seat. I'll see what I can do."
August sat in the waiting area, his heart pounding. He watched as executives rushed by, each lost in their own world. 'Am I really going to pull this off?'
Time stretched, every second feeling like an eternity.
After what felt like ages, the receptionist returned. "Mr. King is currently in a meeting, but he has a busy schedule today. I can take your information, and I'll make sure he receives it."
August swallowed hard. "Here's my number and some photos." He handed her a small envelope containing images of himself—his hotter self, of course.
"Thank you. I'll do my best," she said, her tone reassuring. She seemed genuinely nice, and that gave him a glimmer of hope.
As she walked away, August leaned back, anxiety battling with hope. 'Will this really work?'
Minutes passed, and just as he was beginning to doubt himself, a tall man in a tailored suit strode into the lobby, exuding a strange kind of aura and confidence.
August's breath caught. 'This has to be King Von.'
The man was flanked by a couple of aides, their hushed conversations barely audible but seemingly important. He looked not too old but definitely not young either. 'This is it,' August thought, feeling a dry knot in his gut.
"Mr. Von!" he called out, standing up, his voice slightly louder than intended.
Clyde paused, turning to face August. A flicker of victory and relief flashed across his face, quickly replaced by curiosity and annoyance. "Yes?"
August stepped forward, determination pushing him. "I'm August Farley. I wanted to talk to you about something important, Mr. Von. It concerns the Von family's influence and my situation."
The aides exchanged glances, but Clyde's eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued despite himself. 'Such an audacious approach,' he thought. "There isn't much time," Clyde replied, adopting a serious tone.
"Please," August pressed, desperation creeping into his voice. "It's about securing a future for myself. I really need your help."
A heavy silence filled the air.
August could see the wheels turning in Clyde's mind, a flicker of interest igniting in his gaze. It felt like a game of chess, and he was hoping he'd just made the right move.
"Alright," Clyde said, his tone measured. "You've got my attention." He took out an address card from his pocket and continued, "Go to King Land. It's an estate, and the address is on the card."
He handed the card to August, who furrowed his brows at it. 'Is this a test, old man?'
"If possible, go there in your private car and make sure you're not followed. Ask the first man you see when you arrive at the black gate to direct you to the King's Garden and say these exact words you said to me to….."
"Errr, Mr. Von," August interrupted, stammering. "Is this… can you… ah… well, okay."
Clyde raised an eyebrow at him then straightened it with a clear of his throat. "I have something to do. You have the address. Do as you please."
And with that, Clyde walked away with the aides
August blinked, caught off guard. "Just like that?" he murmured to himself.
He looked down at the card. It was… empty!
"Tsk! What do you take me for, you…!" He was just about to curse loudly when he noticed all eyes were on him. He was being too loud.
'Mr. Von is nothing but a scam!' he thought angrily and threw the card on the ground. It fell a few meters away, and when it made the sound 'Thunk!', August regretted it. "It's an invisible make-visible card! Geez! How expensive."
He bent down to pick it up. Cards like these were hard to see; in fact, to middle-class people like him, those cards were a myth. He was only an exception because he had seen one before in Country X while parading here and there around rich models in a gallery party.
The card was always blank, but somehow the hidden information showed when something was done. He had no idea how they made it appear though.
He bent down, reaching for the card when a bigger hand but gloved, did the same before him, his own hand instead of feeling the card, felt the silky smoothness of that big gloved one. "Sorry, that's mine."
"Is it?"