Absolute Fuckshit Studio
Leaving the strange, theater-kid store owner behind, Kniya and Malesh walked back out to the armored steam sedan.
As they reached the car, Malesh paused. He held the cheap plastic CD case up to the sunlight, his eyes scanning the back cover.
"Kniya," Malesh stated, his voice completely flat. "Read the production credits on the back of this."
Kniya leaned over, squinting at the small, terrible font printed at the bottom of the Bunti poster art.
"This movie is produced by a studio named..." Kniya read aloud, his voice trailing off as his brain tried to process the words. He read it again. "Produced by... Absolute Fuckshit Studio."
Kniya looked up at Malesh, entirely baffled.
"What the fuck is that?!" Kniya yelled, gesturing wildly at the CD case. "What kind of fucking name is that?!"
Malesh stared at the logo, completely unfazed by the absurdity.
"Maybe they wanted to look cool," Malesh suggested casually, turning the case over in his hands. "What do you think about it?"
Kniya threw his hands in the air. "What kind of coolness is this in this fucking way?! Who names a registered business that?!"
"I don't know," Malesh shrugged slightly, maintaining his natural deadpan expression. "But you have to admit, this guy clearly wanted a really, really unique name. Think about it—normally, no one in their right mind is going to buy a CD from a place called 'Fuckshit Studio.' But because it is so absurd, it absolutely catches your attention. It stands out in the market."
"Whatever the fuck it is, anything could happen in this country," Kniya sighed heavily, ripping the driver's side door open. "I don't know why an insane person would name his studio like this, and I don't want to know. Just get in the car, Malesh. We need to drive back to the office before Salesh burns down my novels."
Malesh slid into the passenger seat, carefully holding the bizarre movie in his lap, and the massive steam sedan tore out of the commercial area, heading straight back to Kavilson Steel headquarters.
The Precious Side Quest Winners
The heavy metal doors of the executive elevator slid open with a soft ding.
As Kniya and Malesh stepped out into the pristine hallway of the Kavilson Steel headquarters, they were immediately greeted by the terrifying, sleep-deprived glare of the President. Salesh was standing dead center in the corridor, his arms crossed, looking like a man who had completely lost his grip on sanity.
"Oh, look who it is. My precious side quest winners are finally here," Salesh welcomed them, his voice dripping with absolute, lethal sarcasm. "I really didn't expect that. Well, actually, I knew that you wanted your light novels to be safe. I thought threatening them was a great idea to get you back here. Well, whatever."
Right on cue, Filoska walked out of Kniya's executive suite. She was holding a literal, heavy metal can filled with highly flammable engine fuel.
"We were just about to burn your entire office down," Filoska stated coldly, heavily setting the fuel can down on a mahogany table. "But you literally arrived on time. So, yeah."
Malesh smoothly adjusted his silk tie, entirely unbothered by the fact that they were two minutes away from an arson attack.
"Well, I think so we saved our belongings, didn't we?" Malesh remarked naturally, glancing at Kniya.
"Yeah, Malesh. Barely," Kniya sighed, eyeing the fuel can.
"So," Malesh continued, stepping forward with his usual deadpan expression. "Our plan has officially changed. Today, all of us are going to sit down and watch a movie."
Salesh's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "What the fuck?! You are not going to work today either?!"
"Well, I thought about it, and you guys were really working hard all day," Malesh reasoned smoothly, sounding entirely sincere. "So, you know, it is not for our entertainment. It is strictly for yours. We are just here as complimentary people along with the movie, to make sure you relax."
Filoska let out a sharp, hysterical laugh, gesturing aggressively at the massive stacks of paperwork on the desks behind her.
"Are you absolutely insane?!" Filoska yelled. "We have four hundred pages of international corporate ledgers to balance! We don't want a complimentary movie, Malesh, we want you to sit at your fucking desk and sign the approval forms!"
"A movie?!" Salesh shrieked, violently rubbing his temples. "Do you think we are running a fucking daycare here?! You two disappear all day to buy a movie while we are actively drowning in corporate paperwork?!"
Kniya immediately dropped his CEO persona, clasping his hands together and looking at Salesh with wide, desperate eyes.
"Please, please, please, please, please!" Kniya begged shamelessly, aggressively leaning toward the President. "Just one movie, Salesh! Please!"
Malesh didn't even blink, clasping his hands together in the exact same manner, delivering his begging with absolute deadpan seriousness.
"Please, Salesh. Please, Filoska. Please, please, please," Malesh chanted in a flat, uncompromising tone. "It is highly necessary for corporate morale. Please."
"Okay, okay! Stop it!" Salesh finally groaned, his sheer exhaustion overriding his anger as he stared at the two billionaires literally begging him in the hallway. "If you are forcing us too much... what's the name of this fucking movie? And more importantly, we have a highly scheduled client meeting! Who is going to attend the meeting if you are going to watch a movie?! We are not going to let him wait for the entire time we are watching a film!"
"Well, the thing is..." a new, completely unfamiliar voice echoed from the hallway. "What is the name of the movie?"
Salesh and Filoska absolutely froze. They turned around in pure shock.
The Client, a heavily dressed, highly successful billionaire investor, had casually walked out of the VIP waiting room and was now standing right behind them.
Kniya didn't even miss a beat. He grinned his chaotic smile, holding up the plastic CD case.
"Well, the name of the movie is Bunti, the Tree Spy Activist," Kniya announced proudly. "And I know, Client, you definitely want to watch this movie too."
Salesh and Filoska exchanged a look of absolute, mind-numbing horror.
Why the hell is Kniya directly calling him "Client"?! Salesh thought, his brain actively short-circuiting. Why is he not using his actual name?! And why isn't the guy getting angry?! He is just standing there, completely cool with it! What the fuck is going on in this office?!
The Client, however, didn't seem to care about the blatant disrespect at all. He looked at the terribly photoshopped CD cover and nodded slowly.
"Yes," the Client agreed smoothly, loosening his expensive silk tie. "I definitely want to watch the movie. We can just have the deal afterwards."
Salesh stepped forward, frantically trying to save the massive corporate negotiation.
"But sir!" Salesh pleaded desperately. "We have a fifteen billion credits deal on the table! We cannot just postpone this thing! We need to discuss a lot of logistics!"
"Well, we will just do it on a later date," Malesh interjected casually, speaking to the billionaire as if they were discussing weekend plans. "Are you absolutely okay with that, our precious client?"
"Yeah, I am completely okay with a later date, or today, later in the evening," the Client sighed heavily, a look of profound, high-class exhaustion settling over his features. "Honestly, I have way too much time today. I am the Chairman of my entire company, yet I am somehow the only one flying across the globe doing the actual work every single day. My entire executive board is completely useless. I am just entirely burnt out. So yeah, let's go watch the movie."
Filoska slowly lowered her face into her hands, completely broken by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
"I am literally going to lose my mind," Filoska whispered to herself. "We are actively pausing a fifteen billion credit international corporate negotiation... for a tree spy."
"I hate this company," Salesh muttered, entirely defeated. "I hate both of you. Fine. Whatever."
The Burnout Broadcast
Salesh grabbed the plastic case from Kniya's hand, marching heavily toward the executive lounge. "Put the fucking CD into the machine. Let's get this over with."
They all filed into the room, but just as Salesh was about to angrily slam the disc into the media player, Malesh suddenly leaped forward and blocked the machine with his hand.
"Wait. Hold the disc, Salesh," Malesh interrupted, his eyes wide with sudden, chaotic inspiration. "Guys, what do you think about this? I heavily believe we should view the federal news before watching the movie. I need to know if the economy crashed while we were buying this CD. What do you think, Client?"
The billionaire Client, who had practically melted into the plush leather sofa out of sheer exhaustion, aggressively pointed a finger at Malesh. "Yes! Absolutely! I am a billionaire, and I base my entire fifteen-billion-credit portfolio on whatever random garbage is on the TV at this exact moment! Put the news on!"
"Yeah, the news is critically important!" Kniya yelled, chewing his mint gum at lightning speed and throwing his hands in the air. "If the entire world gets blown up while we are watching the Tree Spy, how will we even know?! Our business is highly affected by the apocalypse! Turn it on!"
Salesh let out a deeply exhausted, soul-leaving-the-body type of groan. He tossed the CD onto the glass coffee table and violently twisted the dial to switch the massive analog screen over to the federal news broadcast.
The heavy screen flickered to life, but the broadcast was an absolute disaster.
Instead of a professional news desk, the camera caught the reporter entirely off-guard. He was standing with his back to the camera, staring longingly out of a fake, painted studio window.
Suddenly realizing they were live, the reporter spun around in a panic. He tried to stand up straight, but his legs seemed to completely glitch out. He broke into a bizarre, highly disjointed tap-dance, violently shimmying his shoulders and kicking his legs in the air as he desperately tried to walk normally to his desk.
Halfway there, he apparently completely gave up on acting young. He aggressively hunched his back, morphing into a frail, 90-year-old man. He hobbled over to his chair, grabbed his microphone, and let out a massive, bone-rattling, highly dramatic fake cough for absolutely no reason.
Then, just to add to the sheer confusion, he aggressively slapped his own forehead, checked an imaginary watch on his bare wrist, and slumped into his chair like a heavy sack of dead weight.
He stared directly into the camera lens, his eyes completely devoid of life.
"Hello," the reporter deadpanned, his voice entirely hollow. "As always, I am tired. I have absolutely no energy at all today, and I really, really don't want to give this news. So... fuck you. And yeah. Here is what is happening today."
The entire executive lounge went dead silent.
Malesh smoothly adjusted his Dragon-themed silk tie, staring at the television screen with a look of profound, utmost respect.
"Wow," Malesh whispered, absolutely amazed. "What an incredibly dynamic, highly professional performance. He really hit that fake cough."
The billionaire Client nodded slowly from the sofa, staring blankly at the deeply depressed reporter on the screen. "I don't know who this man is, but I want to hire him as my life coach. He truly speaks for my soul."