Adam sat frozen in the chair, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden explosion of anger from the young businessman behind the desk. One second, the man seemed intrigued, amused even, by Adam's bold approach. The next, he was roaring like an enraged lion, his face red, veins popping in his neck. Chaos erupted in the neat, quiet office.

  "What the hell just happened?" The question screamed inside Adam's head. "Why is he so furious? Did I say something wrong? I just offered him oil!" He couldn't understand the reaction. He had come with what he thought was a golden opportunity – a potential new source of crude oil for a refinery in a country that desperately needed it.

  He expected skepticism, maybe tough negotiation, maybe even disbelief. But this… this sheer, unadulterated rage? It made no sense. It felt personal, disproportionate, as if Adam hadn't just made a business proposal, but had committed some terrible insult.

  Before Adam could even attempt to speak again, to ask what was wrong, to try and salvage the situation, the heavy wooden office door burst open with a loud bang. It swung inward violently, crashing against the interior wall.

  Three large security guards stormed into the room, their faces grim, their expressions cold and serious. They moved quickly, purposefully, like a well-drilled team responding to an emergency alarm. Their presence instantly filled the small office, making the air feel even tighter, more threatening.

  There was no doubt why they were there. They were here for him.

  Adam’s heart hammered against his ribs. He instinctively started to push himself up from the chair, maybe to try and explain, maybe just to react to the sudden intrusion. But he was too slow. Before he could even fully stand, before he could gather his thoughts or form a single word of protest, the guards were on him.

  Rough hands grabbed his arms, one guard on each side, their grips like iron clamps. They were strong, efficient, clearly experienced in handling unwanted visitors. Adam felt a jolt of fear mixed with bewildered anger. He had no chance to resist, no room to maneuver. He was completely overpowered.

  "Wait, are they really just throwing me out like this?" Adam thought incredulously. He hadn't even finished his proposal! He glanced desperately towards the doorway. Standing there, looking pale and deeply uncomfortable, was the security chief – the same guard Adam had bribed with two thousand dollars just minutes earlier to gain entry.

  The chief wouldn't meet Adam’s eye. His expression seemed to silently scream, 'Sir… what did you do?! I warned you!' But there was nothing the chief could do now. The order had clearly come from higher up – from the furious man behind the desk.

  There was no time for explanations, no chance for appeal. The guards’ hold was unyielding. Without a word, without any semblance of politeness or mercy, they began dragging Adam bodily out of the office. His feet scraped against the plush carpet as they pulled him backwards, ignoring his attempts to regain his balance.

  As they hustled him quickly down the corridor he had just walked moments before, Adam’s eyes caught a flash of commotion further down, near what looked like the main production oversight area.

  Another man, maybe around the same age as the angry executive Adam had just met, maybe slightly older, was arguing loudly, heatedly, with several staff members and two more security guards. His voice was raised in frustration, his gestures sharp and angry.

  "What's going on over there now?" Adam wondered fleetingly, distracted for a second by the other drama unfolding. That man looked just as furious as the executive, but his anger seemed directed at the company, not at an outsider. But Adam had no time to figure it out. The guards holding him didn't slow down; they hurried him past the scene, intent only on getting him out of the building as quickly as possible. No pauses, no explanations, just a swift, forceful removal.

  They reached the main lobby, attracting stares from the few employees still around. The receptionist, Aiya, studiously avoided looking at him as the guards propelled him towards the main entrance. The heavy glass doors slid open automatically.

  And then, with zero hesitation, zero ceremony, the guards threw him out. Literally.

  One moment he was being dragged, the next he was airborne for a split second before landing hard on the paved ground outside the refinery gate. Thump! The impact jarred his already aching body, knocking the breath out of him again.

  Dust plumed up around him as he hit the pavement. He lay there for a stunned moment, flat on his back, blinking up at the vast, indifferent blue sky, the sounds of the refinery buzzing distantly behind him. The sheer shock and humiliation of being physically ejected like a piece of garbage washed over him.

  And in that moment, lying there in the dust outside the imposing gates of Green Refinery, a stark, bitter realization hit him with the force of a lightning bolt.

  "This world… it isn’t simple at all," he thought, the truth settling cold and heavy in his bones. "You can't just have a good idea, or something valuable, and expect people to automatically accept it, especially people in power." He had walked in there thinking his offer – domestic crude oil! – was so obviously beneficial that they’d at least listen seriously. He’d been naive.

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  "Power, connections, money, hidden deals, maybe even fear… those are the things that really matter. Those are the real forces making things happen, not just good ideas or logic."

  The business world, especially at this high level, wasn't a simple marketplace where the best product won. It was a complex, often ruthless game, with its own rules, its own players, its own hidden agendas. And he, Adam, had just blundered into it like an amateur, thinking his secret weapon – the oil – was enough. He had underestimated the system, the players, the resistance to anything new or disruptive. It was a painful lesson.

  Groaning softly from the impact and the lingering pain of his earlier beating, Adam slowly, painfully pushed himself up off the cold ground. His clothes were dusty, his body ached anew, and his pride felt bruised almost as badly as his ribs. He brushed himself off as best he could, his eyes fixed on the imposing refinery building, the place from which he had just been so violently expelled.

  The memory of the executive’s furious face, the receptionist’s dismissal, the guards’ rough hands – it all replayed in his mind, each image sharpening his resolve, hardening his expression. He stood up fully, turning to look back at the gate, the security post, the whole massive complex.

  "I was a fool," he muttered bitterly under his breath, clenching his fists. "A complete fool to think I could just walk in there, offer them a deal like that, and they'd just shake my hand and say yes. That was pure stupidity." He felt a surge of frustration, not just at them, but at himself, at his own naivety.

  "No matter how good the offer is, no matter how much sense it makes for them… they won't accept it easily. Not from someone like me. There's a bigger game being played here. Something else is going on."

  His mind raced, trying to understand the executive's extreme reaction. Why the instant rage at the mention of crude oil? Was it just because Adam was an outsider? Or was there something specific about oil? Was the refinery involved in shady deals already? Were they scared of disrupting their existing supply chains, their cozy relationships with foreign suppliers? Were they perhaps controlled by those same foreign interests? The rejection felt too strong, too immediate, to be just about Adam's lack of proper business etiquette.

  He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to push aside the bitterness, trying to think clearly, strategically. Failure wasn't the end; it was just information. He needed to analyze this, figure out the real reason for the rejection, find another way in.

  But before he could get lost in his troubled thoughts, the main gate of the refinery suddenly swung open again with a loud clang. Adam instinctively tensed, wondering if the guards were coming back out for some reason.

  But it wasn't the guards. Another man came stumbling out – or rather, was thrown out, landing in the dust with a thud almost identical to Adam’s own ignominious landing just moments earlier.

  Adam watched, surprised, as the man, who looked to be in his early thirties, pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, coughing and sputtering. Dust and debris clung to his clothes – a surprisingly smart-looking black coat, now thoroughly grimy. As the man looked up, Adam noticed something pinned to the lapel of his coat: a small, official-looking badge. Even from a distance, Adam could make out the words engraved on it: "Green Refinery."

  "An employee?" Adam realized with a jolt of surprise. "They threw out one of their own people? Just like they threw me out?" That was unexpected. It suggested the anger and dysfunction inside the refinery walls weren't just directed at outsiders. Something serious was definitely going on here. Seeing an employee treated the same way made Adam feel slightly less singled out, but also more curious about the internal politics of the company.

  The employee, still on his hands and knees, slammed his fist hard against the dusty pavement in sheer frustration. He then looked back towards the refinery gates, his face contorted with anger and despair.

  "Idiots! Why won't any of you listen?!" the man suddenly shouted towards the building, his voice ringing out, filled with desperate frustration. "Can't you see?! This company's whole business model is broken! It's outdated! We're heading straight for collapse if we don't change! WAKE UP!"

  His words echoed in the relative quiet outside the gate. Adam listened intently. Inside the refinery fence, a few workers who might have heard the shout barely glanced over. They just shrugged or turned back to their tasks, as if angry outbursts from disgruntled employees were a common, unremarkable occurrence, nothing worth paying attention to. Their indifference seemed to make the man even more frustrated.

  Adam narrowed his eyes, watching the scene unfold with growing interest. "So, this guy isn't just some random worker," Adam mused silently. "He seems to understand the company's problems. He sees the flaws. He's angry because nobody is listening. Interesting..."

  This man wasn't just complaining; he was talking about fundamental business issues, about a broken model, about impending collapse. He sounded like someone who cared, someone who saw the bigger picture, someone who was being ignored by the people in charge – people like the furious executive Adam had just encountered.

  In that moment, seeing this angry, disillusioned employee who clearly understood the refinery's vulnerabilities, a new idea sparked in Adam's mind. An opportunity rising directly from the ashes of his own failed attempt.

  Maybe he couldn't get through the front door by talking to the boss. But maybe… maybe he could find another way in. Maybe this frustrated employee was the key?

  A slow, sly grin began to spread across Adam's face. He started walking casually, purposefully, towards the man, who was now slowly getting to his feet, brushing the thick dust from his black coat with angry, jerky movements. The man didn't notice Adam approaching immediately; his gaze was fixed fiercely on the refinery complex in the distance.

  He muttered something under his breath, too low for Adam to hear clearly, but it sounded like more frustrated cursing. Then, Adam heard him say, his voice low but filled with a potent mix of despair and fierce ambition:

  "Ugh, useless leadership… If only I had the power… If I were in charge, I'd build a company ten times better than this heap of junk…"

  The words, spoken more to himself than anyone else, resonated deeply with Adam. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, quiet enough not to sound mocking, but loud enough to be heard.

  He recognized that feeling – the frustration of seeing a broken system, the ambition to fix it, the powerlessness of being on the outside or the lower rungs. This man felt like a kindred spirit, trapped in a different way but driven by a similar desire for change, for control.

  His chuckle made the man turn sharply, finally noticing Adam standing just a few feet away. The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously, taking in Adam’s own dusty appearance.

  "Who are you?" he asked, his tone gruff, defensive. "What the hell are you doing hanging around here?" He then seemed to put two and two together, perhaps assuming Adam was another hopeful job applicant drawn to the refinery. A humorless smirk twisted his lips.

  "Let me guess," he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm mixed with a strange sort of weary concern, "you came here looking for a job, right? Don't bother, kid. Save yourself the trouble. This company? It's doomed. It'll be bankrupt in a few years, mark my words."

  Adam simply returned the smirk, shaking his head slightly. He wasn't intimidated by the man's rough tone or cynical outlook. In fact, he felt a strange connection to this fellow outcast.

  "No," Adam replied coolly, his voice firm and clear. "I'm not looking for a job." He paused, letting his words hang in the air for a second, catching the man's full attention. Then, he delivered his unexpected line.

  "Actually," Adam said, his eyes holding a spark of intriguing possibility, "I think I have an offer for you."

  The man's cynical expression faltered, replaced instantly by surprise, then deep skepticism, but also… undeniable curiosity. An offer? For him? After just being thrown out? What could this dusty kid possibly offer him? For a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken questions and new, unexpected possibilities.

  Adam's direct approach, his confident offer, had clearly caught the attention of someone who might actually understand the value of what Adam secretly possessed – not just the oil, but the potential to disrupt the entire broken system.

  In that brief exchange outside the hostile gates of Green Refinery, a seed of potential collaboration, born from shared rejection and perhaps shared ambition, had been unexpectedly planted.