CHAPTER 34: CHAPTER 34- STUBBORNNESS OR NOT?

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floor as Kaidren followed just behind the man in the black tuxedo. The thick straps fastened around his right arm and leg pressed against his skin with a faint, unyielding weight—a subtle reminder of where he was and under whose scrutiny. The straps’ small green lights pulsed in a steady rhythm, as if marking time with every step he took.

The corridor they were walking through was plain in a way that was almost clinical—smooth white walls, steel-framed lights overhead, and a faint scent of sterile air that made the space feel untouched by anything human. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was immaculate, the kind of spotless environment where a speck of dust would feel like a crime.

There were multiple closed doors on both sides, each without labels, leading to places Kaidren didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Mounted near the ceiling, black security cameras swiveled in calculated precision, their lenses glinting under the overhead lights. He noticed there wasn’t a single blind spot—every angle, every inch of the hallway was under constant watch.

The man ahead of him finally spoke, his voice low yet carrying a professional clarity.

"As it was mentioned earlier," he said, glancing back briefly, "my name is Rex. Just Rex. No family name necessary."

Kaidren’s gaze flickered briefly to the man’s name badge, confirming the same name he’d heard earlier from the guard. He responded with nothing more than a quiet hum, an acknowledgement without emotion.

Rex didn’t seem offended. Instead, he shifted the conversation. "Now, regarding your request to take out a loan of fifteen million AUR..."

His tone grew more deliberate, each word weighed before it was spoken. "As I’ve already told you, such large requests fall strictly under the jurisdiction of the branch managers. It’s Aegis Bank policy—any amount over one million must be personally approved and processed by a manager. No exceptions."

Kaidren kept walking, his gaze sweeping lazily over the corridor.

Rex’s voice remained even, but there was a faint gravity to it now. "This policy exists for more than just caution. If a policy is breached—any policy—those involved don’t just face individual consequences. Every employee in the branch, whether directly involved or not, would be terminated. Additionally, they’d face a five-hundred-thousand AUR fine and be permanently banned from Aegis Bank services. Any accounts they personally hold here would be confiscated."

He paused briefly, looking at Kaidren over his shoulder. "We signed for those terms. We live by them. So, Mr. Kaidren, I trust you understand that matters like yours must be handled precisely. We can’t afford the slightest deviation."

Kaidren didn’t even slow his pace. He didn’t particularly care about their policies. He already understood the weight of what he was asking, but the internal bureaucracy of the bank meant nothing to him. He wasn’t here to debate procedure—he was here to get the loan.

"Mm," he said simply, the sound little more than a breath.

Rex gave a short nod. "Good."

They continued in silence for a stretch, the sound of their footsteps and the faint hum of air-conditioning filling the space. They reached a fork in the corridor and turned left. Then another left. The turns seemed deliberate, almost like the bank’s layout was designed to disorient anyone unfamiliar with it.

At the far end of the hallway stood a metallic door, darker and heavier-looking than the rest. Kaidren remembered it—it was the same one Rex had passed through earlier, the one that required a black keycard striped with gold.

They stopped in front of it.

Without a word, Rex retrieved the card from his tuxedo coat, swiping it against the reader mounted beside the door. The machine emitted a low beep, followed by the hiss of hydraulics and the sharp clank of metal bolts unlocking.

The door slid open smoothly. Beyond it was the back area of the main banking floor. Rows of desks were arranged with military precision, each occupied by bankers hunched over documents, tapping at terminals, or speaking quietly into headsets.

The scent of paper and ink mingled faintly with the clean, artificial air.

Rex slipped the keycard back into his pocket and stepped inside. "Follow me," he said.

Kaidren’s response was the same as before—a low, indifferent hum. He stepped through after him, ignoring the curious glances from some of the bankers.

A few eyes lingered for a moment too long, but quickly shifted away. Staring at a customer, especially one who might be "special," was frowned upon. Still, Kaidren could sense the silent speculations brewing in their heads.

To them, the presence of the black monitoring straps was enough to deduce he wasn’t some high-profile figure. In their experience, genuine VIP clients weren’t subjected to such measures. That left only one conclusion—he was an unknown making an unusually large request.

Kaidren neither noticed nor cared.

Rex led him past the rows of desks to another set of doors—these ones sleeker, with a faint reflective sheen. They stood out from the rest, the kind of doors meant to signal a place of higher authority.

Rex stopped in front of them and turned to Kaidren. "This will take us to the second floor. The manager is currently there, as I mentioned before."

Kaidren gave a slow nod. Then, in a voice that was flat and lazily paced, he asked, "Do I need to use honorifics when talking to the manager?"

Rex placed his hand on the door handle, glancing briefly at him. "The manager is fine either way. Use them if you wish, or not at all. Whatever makes you comfortable, Mr. Kaidren."

"Mm," Kaidren murmured again, satisfied with the answer.

Inwardly, he figured there was no point in faking a show of half-baked respect. If things went the way he expected, they’d be business partners soon enough. The two potions resting inside his sling bag would see to that.

Rex pushed the doors open.

The air on the other side carried a faint, colder draft, as though the second floor kept its temperature slightly lower than the rest of the building. Kaidren stepped through without hesitation, his expression unchanged, his pace unhurried.

Somewhere ahead, past yet another corridor and set of walls, was the man who could decide whether fifteen million AUR would be placed in his hands.

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Banker Rex ascended at an even pace, his polished shoes barely making a sound. Kaidren followed a step behind, his expression unchanged, hands loosely resting at his sides, the faint green glow of the monitoring devices on his wrist and ankle pulsing in a slow, methodical beat.

A muted draft drifted down from above, carrying with it the faint scent of polished wood and old, expensive varnish.

By the time they reached the landing, the air had shifted — richer, warmer, and oddly quieter compared to the sterile first floor. The second floor opened into a hallway that could have belonged to a noble’s mansion rather than a financial institution.

The plush red carpet stretched down the corridor like a regal pathway, its deep crimson absorbing their footsteps until they seemed to walk in silence. The walls here were not the plain, sterile white of the lower floor. Instead, they were adorned with intricate patterns, symmetrical swirls and filigree designs pressed into the surface, painted in a warm ivory hue that complemented the deep gold accents tracing along the edges.

Small chandeliers hung from the ceiling at regular intervals, each one casting a soft, golden light that reflected faintly off the polished trim and gilded picture frames. The quiet hum of their electric fittings mingled with the faint ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere down the hall.

Kaidren’s eyes shifted once, briefly scanning the ceiling height and measuring the distance between the chandeliers and the floor. The elegance was... unexpected. For a moment, he considered whether they’d somehow stepped into a private estate rather than remaining inside the same building. But the thought passed quickly; unnecessary speculation rarely served him any purpose.

Banker Rex kept walking, his posture straight, the faint gleam of his name badge catching the chandelier light. Their pace was unhurried, yet deliberate. Neither man spoke. The faint weight of formality seemed to press in with every step they took toward the far end of the corridor.

At last, the hallway widened slightly, revealing a grand double door directly ahead. Two imposing figures stood guard before it — not ordinary bank security back on earth, but trained Guardians.

Each was easily over seven feet tall, their frames massive enough that even their tailored black tuxedos could not disguise the sheer bulk of muscle beneath. Their shoulders were broad, their arms thick, and their movements carried the stillness of men accustomed to violence yet disciplined enough to remain statuesque. On the left breast of each tuxedo gleamed a polished silver badge. The engraving was clear:

Tier 4 — Registered Guardian

Kaidren’s gaze lingered on the badges for a fraction of a second before returning to the centerline of his view. His steps did not falter, though the atmosphere here was markedly different from the lower floors — heavier, watchful.

The moment they drew close, one of the Guardians raised a hand. Not an aggressive gesture, but enough to halt their progress. The other remained still, eyes fixed on Kaidren with the steady weight of evaluation.

Banker Rex, unfazed, slipped a hand into the inner pocket of his tuxedo coat and withdrew a folded envelope of heavy golden paper. Without a word, he extended it toward the nearest guard.

The Guardian accepted it with deliberate care, holding it as though its contents demanded respect. He broke the seal and began to read in silence, his eyes scanning each line with slow precision. The only sound in the hall was the faint creak of leather from his gloves.

Minutes stretched thin. Kaidren waited without shifting his weight, his expression unreadable. Rex’s face remained just as composed.

Finally, the Guardian refolded the letter and handed it back. Rex took it and returned it to his pocket in one smooth motion.

The Guardian’s attention then moved fully to Kaidren. His gaze dropped to the sling bag at Kaidren’s side — the same bag that had been with him since entering the building.

"Even though this bag has already been inspected upon your entry," the Guardian said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the faint echo of someone accustomed to giving commands, "you are not permitted to bring it inside. Not even with the monitoring devices you are currently wearing."

The statement was absolute, not framed as a suggestion.

The second Guardian extended a large, gloved hand toward Kaidren, palm open. The meaning was clear.

Rex’s voice broke the momentary pause. "I hope you understand, Mr. Kaidren," he said in his practiced professional tone, "that these precautions are mandatory."

Kaidren’s gaze dropped slightly toward the hand offered to him, then to the polished brass handles of the double doors just beyond the two Guardians. His mind flicked briefly to the contents of his sling bag.

The jar inside — his creation — had already been passed off earlier as something mundane, a jar of jams and jellies. That excuse had worked before, but here, in front of higher-tier Guardians who clearly took no detail for granted, such a line would collapse instantly.

"I’ll need the bag," Kaidren said after a moment, his voice even, almost lazy in tone. "Inside it is the collateral I intend to use."

The faintest ripple of suspicion crossed Rex’s face. The Guardians exchanged a glance — the kind of silent communication born of long familiarity — before one of them spoke again.

"Collateral?" The Guardian’s tone was neutral, though edged with a cautious interest. "Then we will need to inspect it here and now."

The weight of the words was deliberate. Inspection wasn’t a request; it was procedure.

But procedure meant nothing to Kaidren when it came to what was his. The fewer people who knew the nature of what he carried, the better. Even more so when the object in question was something entirely foreign to this world — something he had no intention of explaining to strangers in suits.

He met the Guardian’s eyes for a long, silent moment before replying, voice low but firm.

"It’s a trade secret."

The words hung in the air between them. No elaboration. No attempt to soften the statement. Just a simple truth, stripped bare.

For the first time, one of the Guardians’ brows twitched upward — barely noticeable, but there all the same. Rex, standing between the tension of protocol and the customer he’d escorted, let out a slow, measured breath.

His expression didn’t change, but in his mind, calculations shifted. The man he was walking with wasn’t simply stubborn — there was something in the way Kaidren said it, something that didn’t feel like empty defiance.

The chandelier light caught briefly on the green beeping light at Kaidren’s wrist, pulsing once... twice... steady as ever.

The Guardian’s outstretched hand lowered slowly, though the authority in his posture didn’t waver. No further move was made to take the bag — at least, not yet.

Some things, Rex knew, would require the manager’s direct decision.

And so, without another word, the four of them stood locked in a still moment, the double doors looming in silent promise just behind the two immovable Guardians.