Excel watched Ian, who was still washing the dishes. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Ian rinsing a plate with startling elegance—far too much elegance for someone claiming to be an ordinary employee.
"Why?" Ian asked calmly, stealing a glance at Excel.
"You said you work as a staff member at some outlying company, right?" Excel pressed. "What's the company's name?"
"PT Cahaya Makmur," Ian replied curtly.
Excel leaned forward, resting against the wall beside Ian. "Let me see your ID card. What, is your work identity supposed to be based on nothing but your word?"
Ian rinsed his hands casually. "I lost my ID card."
"Yeah, lost it in Hong Kong!" Excel scoffed skeptically. "Even I, a broke freelance designer, have business cards and an exhibition ID! You're telling me the company you work for didn't give you any identification? Don't tell me you're actually a fugitive running from intelligence agents."
"No."
"Or are you part of a child-kidnapping ring?"
"I'm thirty, Excel. I have no interest in kidnapping children."
"Then prove you're really an employee of PT Cahaya Makmur!" Excel challenged, folding his arms across his chest. "Ms. Nining wants the new tenant information this afternoon. Especially since you've already been staying here for more than twenty-four hours. If you can't show an official company ID card by four this afternoon, Ms. Nining will drag you out of this boarding house!"
Ian fell silent. The cheap wall clock above the refrigerator showed ten past three. That meant he had only fifty minutes.
"Four?" Ian asked to confirm.
"Yeah! Exactly four! So? Can you show it or not?"
Ian nodded slowly. "I can."
"Okay, I'll wait until four! If you're lying, you'd better be ready to get out of here." Excel happily returned to his desk, completely unaware that behind Ian's calm expression, the CEO was formulating a high-level emergency plan.
Three minutes later.
Ian pretended to excuse himself to the bathroom inside his boarding-house room. The moment the thin wooden door shut and locked, Ian pulled out his smartphone and pressed speed dial number one.
"M-Mr. Ian?!" Ardi's voice on the other end sounded panicked, his breathing ragged. "Sir, when are you coming to the office? The board meeting..."
"Ardi," Ian cut in coldly, lowering his voice so Excel outside wouldn't hear him.
"Yes, sir?!"
"I need a fake staff ID card."
There was a brief silence on the other end. The sound of papers tumbling onto the floor came from Ardi's desk on the fiftieth floor of the Adichandra Group building.
"F-Fake... sir? What kind of ID card do you mean?!" Ardi stammered.
"Make an employee ID card in the name of Sebastian Ian. Position: Operations Admin Staff. Company name: PT Cahaya Makmur."
"Sir... PT Cahaya Makmur is a subsidiary of Adichandra Group whose only business line is handling small-scale building-material distribution in urban areas! Why do you want to be an admin staff member there?!" Ardi was practically in tears. "You're the CEO of our entire holding company!"
"Excel suspects me," Ian answered shortly. "He threatened to throw me out if I couldn't show an official ID card by four this afternoon."
Ardi glanced at the watch on his wrist. "THAT'S IN FORTY MINUTES, SIR?! How am I supposed to make an official ID card with a government-printing-quality finish in less than an hour?!"
"You have thirty minutes," Ian said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. "Make it as convincing as possible. It needs a hologram, a lanyard with the company name on it, and the photo has to make me look like an ordinary employee under pressure."
"Under pressure?!" Ardi screamed hysterically over the phone. "There isn't a single photo of you where you look under pressure! You have the face of a man about to throw a contract-termination letter in a client's face!"
"Do your best," Ian ordered, his tone absolute. "Send a personal courier on a racing motorcycle to Excel's boarding house before four this afternoon. If you're even five minutes late, I'll cut your annual bonus by fifty percent."
BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...
The call ended unilaterally.
At Adichandra Group headquarters, Ardi clutched his pounding chest. His face had gone deathly pale, as if he'd just seen a ghost in broad daylight.
"This is insane... My boss has really gone crazy because of that boarding-house kid!" Ardi roared dramatically. He immediately leaped out of his office chair, grabbed his car keys and a blank folder. "IT STAFF! WHERE'S THE IT TEAM?! MAKE AN ID CARD DESIGN RIGHT NOW! FIFTEEN MINUTES!"
The entire fiftieth floor of the skyscraper erupted into chaos as if there were an earthquake drill.
Three forty-five.
Excel was sprawled on the folding mattress, happily tidying up an illustration draft on his tablet. Every so often, he glanced at Ian, who sat calmly in a wooden chair while rubbing the screen of his high-end phone.
"You've only got fifteen minutes left, Ian," Excel taunted mockingly. "Even a roadside ID-card printer needs at least an hour. What kind of office courier can deliver an ID card this fast in the middle of the afternoon?"
"It will arrive," Ian replied calmly.
"You're acting way too confident," Excel sneered. "Remember, even though Ms. Nining is totally smitten with your face, she's meticulous when it comes to identity checks. Otherwise, she'll sweep you right out of the second-floor corridor with a twig broom!"
BRRRRMMMM!
Suddenly, the roar of a large-engine motorcycle shook the windowpanes of Excel's boarding-house room. It was so loud, like a racing bike that had taken a wrong turn into a residential alley.
"Damn! Who's revving their motorcycle at the mouth of the alley?!" Excel cursed in surprise, nearly dropping his tablet.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
The boarding-house room door was pounded on by someone knocking frantically and gasping for breath.
Excel frowned, stood up, and walked toward the door. Before he could turn the handle, the door was pushed open from outside.
A man in a neat black suit stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. A full-face racing helmet still sat on his head, while his luxurious white shirt was soaked through with sweat.
The man was none other than Ardi, who had willingly disguised himself as an emergency courier to save his annual bonus.
"Delivery... express package... for Mr. Sebastian Ian..." Ardi called out, his voice nearly gone as he clutched his weak knees after speeding through the city's traffic.