The Enigmatic Door
Jesse paced nervously outside the imposing doors of the Aegis Club. The tall, blonde, blue-eyed girl looked out of place, her anxiety etched across her face.
This club carried a reputation as dark as the Chicago nights it called home. Local whispers painted it as a nexus of power and peril—a place where even mayors bowed and federal councilors tread lightly. Jesse had heard tales branding it "the evil that even the light of God couldn't dispel."
Her legs felt like lead as she mulled over the warnings. "It'll be fine, right?" she whispered to herself, stealing glances at the door. "Even the Mafia needs workers. Jesse, you need this job. You have to do it."
She inhaled deeply, trying to summon courage. Straightening her back, Jesse squared her shoulders and walked toward the door, her movements as resolute as they were reluctant. She needed this job desperately—rent, food, a roof over her head.
"Good afternoon, madam. How can I assist you?" a staff member asked, his warm smile doing little to ease her nerves.
"I… I'm here to apply. Secretary position," she stammered, fumbling with her pocket before producing a cut-out newspaper ad.
"Of course. Follow me," the staff member replied, scanning her with a curious yet approving glance before leading her to a grand staircase.
"Go up, take a left, and look for Office 2. That's where you'll find the manager," he instructed, his smile lingering before he departed.
Jesse whispered to herself again, "Relax, Jesse. Everything's normal. You can do this."
The club, despite its foreboding reputation, felt surprisingly ordinary. Staff moved about with polite efficiency, their smiles genuine. Feeling a touch braver, Jesse ascended the staircase and found herself staring at a crimson door with "Office 2" etched into its surface.
She adjusted her clothes, took a deep breath, and knocked.
Nothing.
She waited, frowning at the silence, and cautiously pushed the door open. The hallway behind her remained empty, urging her to step inside. The moment she did, the door slammed shut behind her.
"Another door?" she muttered, puzzled. Unease prickled at her as her hand, seemingly of its own volition, reached for the handle.
The instant the door opened, blinding light flooded the room. Jesse shielded her eyes, only to hear hurried footsteps and shouts from behind.
"Who let her in?!"
"Block the exits! Search for accomplices and alert the boss!"
"Hands up! Close your eyes, turn slowly, and don't make a move!" a sharp voice commanded.
The cold press of a gun barrel touched the back of her head. Jesse, trembling, did as ordered, tears welling in her eyes.
Twenty minutes later, Jesse sat stiffly on a plush sofa in a new office. A cup of cold coffee rested in her hands, and her thoughts were as dark as its contents.
She had only wanted to apply for a secretary job. How had things gone so catastrophically wrong?
The four pistols that had been aimed at her earlier haunted her thoughts. She blinked back tears, whispering, "Why, Jesse? Why does this always happen to you?"
Homeless, broke, and desperate, she had nowhere to run. She glanced at the young, sharp-eyed man sitting across the desk from her—Charlie Lee, rumored to be a man of immense power and influence.
Oblivious to her spiraling fears, Charlie studied her resume, his expression unreadable. Finally, after a long silence, he spoke. "Your name is Jesse, right?"
Startled, she nodded quickly. "Yes! I'll do it!"
"…Do what?" he asked, raising a brow.
"I mean… whatever it is you want me to do!" she stammered, her face flushing.
Charlie sighed and gestured for her to sit back down. "Tell me about yourself."
"Oh, I have an Oxford ACCA degree! I'm proficient in English, French, Japanese, Russian, German, and Italian. I'm 172 cm tall…" she began rattling off, clearly trying to impress him.
"Stop," he interrupted. Her credentials were impeccable, but her earlier antics painted a different picture—a nervous, eccentric woman who stumbled into danger by accident.
"Jesse, give me one good reason why I should keep you," Charlie asked, leaning back in his chair.
She hesitated, then pointed at her chest. "Does this count?"
Charlie blinked, then burst into laughter. "Fine. You're hired. Personal secretary. Five dollars a day."
Jesse's face lit up with joy. "Really? Yes! I'm getting ice cream! And I'll tell that stupid landlord—ha! He said I couldn't find a job!"
As she rambled excitedly, Charlie sighed, wondering if he'd made a terrible mistake.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the building, Aria, his HR manager, was preparing six other candidates for interviews. Each of them was equally stunning and brilliant, handpicked from over 120 applicants. The air was thick with tension as the women, all recent graduates, awaited their turn.
The six women exchanged wary glances, each silently sizing up the competition. The room buzzed with unspoken rivalries, dreams, and hidden motives.
When Charlie finally arrived, with the chaotic and clueless Jesse trailing behind him, he addressed the group with a simple, cryptic statement:
"This is Jesse. She'll be your point of contact. Any questions, direct them to her."
The six candidates turned toward Jesse, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief.
Jesse blinked at them, equally baffled.
And in that tense, silent moment, it was clear—this was only the beginning.