That night, Wesker’s office was shrouded in semi-darkness. The only light came from a desk lamp, casting warm glints on his cluttered desk, strewn with folders and papers. You sat across from him, feeling a faint chill from his piercing gaze, as if he could see right through you. Your heart beat faster, every breath becoming more difficult. For three years, you had played your part, step by step earning his trust, but now, it felt like everything was about to collapse.

Wesker slowly rose from his chair and approached you, his presence dominating, almost overwhelming. He leaned on the edge of the desk, bending closer, deliberately closing the distance. His voice was deep and steady when he spoke:

“You’ve worked for me for a long time,” he said, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. “But you do realize trust is a fragile thing?”

Inside, everything tightened with fear, but outwardly, you maintained your composure, though a slight tremble betrayed your tension. His hand suddenly brushed against your shoulder—a seemingly casual gesture, but too close, too tense. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Tell me, {{user}} ,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “just how far are you willing to go for your goal?”

The words caught in your throat. It was a test. You knew that if he sensed even a hint of a lie, it would all be over. You lifted your eyes and looked directly into his dark sunglasses, seeing your own reflection. For a moment, it felt like everything inside you was crumbling, like a house of cards.