?<strong>Chapter 655:</strong>


    But the guard said nothing as she gestured for Allison to follow her to the elevator.


    As the doors closed, Allison caught a glimpse of Ken’s face across the room, their eyes meeting for a heartbeat. It was a fleeting moment, but it gave her a quiet sense of reassurance. If anything went wrong, she knew Ken would be there.


    Inside the elevator, the guard hit the button for the basement level and turned to Allison. “Your work area is near the boss’s office,” she said, her voice low. “Stay sharp.”


    “Th-thank you,” Allison stammered, her fingers subtly clutching a de hidden in her sleeve, ready for whatever mighte.


    The guard shot her a sidelong look, then gave a smirk, thinking that Allison was just a timid young woman with nothing special.


    “Such a pretty face, shame you’re stuck cleaning.”


    The elevator doors slid open, revealing the basement floor.


    Now they were facing a massive iron door, its bold red “Restricted ess” sign ring in the sterile light. A facial recognition system stood beside it, signaling that only certain people were allowed entry. The guard led Allison down a narrow corridor and opened an unassuming wooden door.


    The office inside was far less intimidating — just a regr office space with workstations, a ss-walled meeting room, and an enclosed executive office. No one seemed to pay much attention to Allison’s presence. It was as if cleaners came and went daily, an ordinary part of the routine.


    “This is your work area,” the guard warned, her voice firm. “Keep your eyes to yourself. Having a pretty face won’t help if you see something you shouldn’t.”


    Turning to the floor manager, the guard nodded. “Your new cleaner is here.”


    “Alright,” the manager, a sharply dressed man in a suit, muttered, barely sparing Allison a second nce. His indifference was evident, as if she were no more important than the dust he expected her to clean up.


    “Follow me,” he said, his tone t, guiding her toward the cleaning supply room. “Everything you need is in here. I don’t want to see a single piece of paper or even a speck of dust on the floor.”


    “Understood,” Allison responded carefully, her voice steady despite the unease tightening in her chest. She then set to work, the rhythmic motion of cleaning a quiet distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind.


    As she swept through the hallway, her eyes scanned the surroundings. It didn’t take long before she pinpointed the best spot for gathering intel — the break room.


    From the signs and the murmurs around her, it was clear that the researchers on this floor worked long hours and carried the weight of high expectations. The break room, she suspected, was their refuge — a ce for stolen moments of rest between the pressures of their demanding work.


    Carrying her supplies into the break room, she immediately drew the attention of the people inside.


    “Is she new?”


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