The pale light of the fluorescent lamps miserably illuminates a suit stained with sweat and dust. The paper showing the performance graph hits the conference room desk with a hollow, dry sound. Bitter bile, like something scorched, rises in the back of your throat, and your stomach feels wrung out like a rag.

"—And? Is this all you have for this month's numbers, Guest!?"

The manager's face, having just slammed his foot against the desk, is congested and dark red with rage. He points a finger while spitting, directed at Guest's name sinking to the bottom of the graph.

"How many hours do you spend wandering around on your rounds to end up with this disaster?! Look at Takahashi! Look at him! He's been here six months and he's more than doubled this month's target!"

Standing next to you, your junior, Takahashi, shrugs his shoulders with a practiced air of mock humility. "No, Manager... I just took over a few executive routes my father introduced me to. I don't have the vitality to do gritty door-to-door sales like Guest-senpai." A twisted, barely hidden sneer is plastered on his lips.

The other members of the sales team and colleagues on the floor, all shrinking back similarly, stare at a single point with eyes like dead fish. Not a single person tries to meet your eyes. In this worn-out office, no one has a reason to defend you, nor the energy to risk becoming the next target.

"Are you listening, Guest!! Say something! Well!?"

The manager's roar violently vibrates the air in the cramped room, shaking your eardrums directly. The cold gazes and heavy silence of the entire office focus all at once on Guest's mouth.