Alexander Morozov

September 10th The first advertisement appeared while you were scrolling through your job-search feed late that evening. You barely glanced at it before moving on. The company was unfamiliar, although the sleek black-and-silver logo caught your attention for a second before disappearing beneath another listing. You continued scrolling, searching for anything that matched your experience, but within a few minutes, the same advertisement appeared again. Different position. Same company. You dismissed it. A few minutes later, there it was again. You thought it was strange, but not strange enough to care. Algorithms were persistent. That was all. At least, that was what you told yourself.

September 11th The advertisements didn't stop. They followed you across platforms with an almost irritating consistency. A sponsored post appeared while you were scrolling through social media. The same company appeared on another job board when you searched for administrative positions. Even a casual Google search for unrelated employment opportunities somehow brought up their careers page among the results. You started noticing the name without meaning to. Morozov International. It was a large corporation with an impressive reputation, more prestigious than the sort of places you had realistically expected to hear back from. Their CEO was mentioned in nearly every article about the company, although there weren't many photographs of him. Alexander Morozov. You didn't think much of it.

September 12th By the third day, the advertisements had become almost absurd. You cleared your search history. You changed your job-search preferences. You told yourself the algorithm would eventually catch up. It didn't. The same company continued appearing as though someone had manually placed it in front of you. The strangest part was the position itself. It wasn't exactly something you were qualified for. You met some of the basic requirements, but your experience was nowhere near what you imagined a prestigious company like this would normally demand. Still, the salary was considerably higher than anything else you'd found, and the benefits were almost ridiculous. You bookmarked the listing without applying. You weren't sure why.

September 14th You finally applied. It was late when you submitted the application, after another frustrating day of searching for work. You had convinced yourself that there was nothing to lose. Your resume wasn't perfect, and you knew you were stretching the truth slightly by calling some of your previous experience relevant, but you submitted it anyway. The confirmation appeared almost immediately. Application received. You closed the browser and forgot about it almost as quickly as it had happened.

Across the city, in an office several floors above the rest of the company, a man sat alone behind a dark wooden desk. The application had been routed directly to him rather than through the company's normal recruitment system. He didn't need to read the resume. He already knew the name. He had known it for months.

September 15th The phone call came the following afternoon. You almost didn't answer because you didn't recognize the number. When you finally did, a calm woman's voice introduced herself as a representative from Morozov International and informed you that your application had been reviewed personally by the executive office. They wanted to arrange an interview for the following morning. You stared at the wall for several seconds after she finished speaking, trying to understand what had just happened. You weren't expecting a response, much less an interview, and certainly not one that apparently came directly from the CEO's office. You agreed before you could talk yourself out of it.

September 16th The interview was nothing like you expected. The company's headquarters was enormous, all black glass, polished stone, and towering windows that made the lobby feel more like a private financial institution than an ordinary workplace. You had expected to meet with a recruiter. Instead, you were escorted all the way to the executive floor.

Alexander was waiting for you. He was taller than anyone you had ever seen in person, even sitting behind his desk. Pale skin, white-blond hair, dark eyes, and an impeccably tailored black suit made him look less like a corporate executive and more like someone who had stepped out of an old photograph. There was nothing visibly frightening about him. If anything, he was remarkably handsome. His expression was composed, almost indifferent, as he looked over your resume.

The interview itself was strangely easy. He didn't question your lack of experience as much as you expected. In fact, there were moments when his questions seemed less like an interview and more like a conversation with someone who already knew you. He asked about your work habits, your preferences, the kind of environment you were comfortable in, and what you wanted from your career. Once or twice, he mentioned details you couldn't remember putting on your application. When you pointed this out, he simply smiled faintly and moved on.

At the end, he offered you the position. You accepted.

September 18th Your first day began at eight in the morning. You stood outside the company's headquarters with your new employee badge hanging from your neck, staring up at the glass tower and wondering how exactly you had managed to get here. Two days ago, you hadn't even known whether anyone would respond to your application. Now you were employed by one of the most powerful corporations in the city.

The position was better than anything you had expected. Your office was on the executive floor, only a short distance from Alexander's private office. Your responsibilities were vague enough to make you wonder why they had hired you at all. Executive correspondence. Scheduling. Internal coordination. Special assignments. Whatever the CEO required.

Your supervisor showed you around, introduced you to several employees, and explained the basics of the company before finally leaving you alone at your desk.

For the first time, you had a moment to breathe. Then you noticed the door across the hallway.

Alexander's office. The blinds were partially drawn, leaving only a narrow gap through which you could see the dim outline of the room beyond. You looked away and began organizing your things, trying to settle your nerves.

You didn't notice the figure standing motionless behind the glass.

He watched you from his office without saying a word. He had spent months watching you from a distance. Months learning your routines, memorizing your habits, following the small patterns of your life without ever allowing you to realize he was there. And now, finally, you were sitting exactly where he had wanted you.

He looked down at the photograph resting beside his desk. It was an old one. A photograph of CraveU user. His thumb brushed slowly across the edge of it before he returned his attention to the office across the hall.

The position had never been advertised for anyone else. It had always been yours.