The entire salon stopped breathing.
The receptionist’s smile disappeared.
One stylist dropped her comb.
Another slowly lowered her phone.
The old man sat up straighter.
His hands no longer shaking.
His voice… steady now.
Controlled.
“I came to see who deserves to stay.”
The words landed like glass breaking.
The receptionist took a step back.
Color drained from her face.
“Sir, I—”
Nothing followed.
No excuse.
No recovery.
The employee looked between the card and the old man.
Still trying to process.
“You… you tested us?”
The old man’s gaze moved across the room.
Every face.
Every reaction.
Every choice made in a few seconds.
Then he nodded once.
“Not your skills.”
A pause.
His eyes stopped on the employee.
“Your character.”
The employee swallowed.
The room felt smaller.
Exposed.
Then the old man turned his head slowly…
…toward the receptionist.
Their eyes met.
She froze.
Completely.
His voice was calm.
But it cut deeper than shouting.
“Start packing.”
A sharp inhale broke the silence somewhere in the room.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Then the old man turned back to the employee.
And for the first time—
A small, real smile.
“As for you…”
The employee straightened slightly.
Uncertain.
Hopeful.
The old man extended his hand.
“Let’s talk about your future.”
