The Charitable Storeroom
Kniya sighed, aggressively rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at his best friend.
"Okay, Malesh, I think so we definitely need to go to the office right now," Kniya admitted reluctantly, walking toward the armored steam sedan. "Because if we don't go, Salesh is absolutely going to burn our stuff."
Malesh nodded flatly, reaching out and pulling open the heavy iron door of the car.
"But well, Malesh, before we go, there is one highly specific thing I really need to ask you," Kniya interrupted, his chaotic energy flaring right back up. "Salesh mentioned one more thing to me on that call—something that was fortunately not audible to you over the sound of your ridiculous chainsaw."
Malesh paused, resting his hand on the door handle and looking over the roof of the car. "What did he say?"
"Basically, he told me that he is going to burn my Demon Lord novels along with the novels stored in the storeroom," Kniya explained, pointing an accusatory finger directly at his friend. "And then I asked him, 'what novels?' And he screamed, 'the fucking fart novels!' And that is exactly when I realized they were yours. So, tell me, why the fuck are your fart novels currently present in my office?!"
Malesh smoothly adjusted his Dragon-themed silk tie, his deadpan mask completely unbothered by the sudden, intense interrogation.
"Well, I didn't have any empty space left in my apartment," Malesh explained with pure, unapologetic logic. "My personal bookshelves were at maximum capacity. So, I kept them there."
Kniya's jaw dropped in sheer, unadulterated disbelief.
"Are you kidding me?!" Kniya shrieked, his voice echoing loudly through the peaceful forest. "Do you think my office is a fucking charitable storeroom where absolutely whoever wants to keep anything can just dump their useless crap?! It is the Managing Director's room! You are always just left lounging on the sofa anyway! It is a room of supreme corporate authority, not a fucking free public restroom or a charitable donation bin for you to dump your bizarre literature just because your own apartment is full!"
Malesh simply stared at him for a long, quiet moment, entirely unmoved by the dramatic, high-volume speech, before smoothly sliding into the passenger seat.
"Get in the car, Kniya," Malesh stated flatly.
The Flying Advertisement
Grumbling heavily under his breath about the absolute disrespect to his workspace, Kniya aggressively climbed into the driver's seat. He kicked the heavy ignition lever, and the powerful R12 engines roared to life. They tore out of the forest, the armored steam sedan speeding down the dirt roads with the windows rolled completely down to let the cool breeze inside.
The heavy wind whipped aggressively through the open windows of the speeding sedan. Suddenly, a stray piece of brightly colored paper caught the draft. It flew directly into the car and violently plastered itself entirely over Malesh's face.
SMACK.
Malesh didn't even flinch. He just sat there in the passenger seat with his vision completely blocked, letting out a heavy, deeply exhausted sigh.
"What the fuck is this?" Malesh deadpanned, his voice completely muffled behind the thick paper. He reached up and slowly peeled it off his skin. "Where the hell did this fucking piece of trash even come from to block my face?"
Kniya briefly glanced over from the steering wheel, eyeing the vibrant, terribly photoshopped paper in Malesh's hand.
"Well, I think so it is a really cinematic advertisement," Kniya commented casually, keeping his focus on the dirt road. "What I can even say."
"Whatever the fuck it is," Malesh muttered, staring at the highly vibrant image. His dark eyes narrowed in pure analytical curiosity. "Kniya, it is a movie poster. Well, it is for a movie."
Malesh read the title aloud, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "The movie is titled: Bunti, the Tree Spy Activist."
Kniya blinked, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "What the fuck is a tree spy? How can someone act as an undercover spy for a fucking tree?"
"What a highly unique name. Don't you think so?" Malesh continued, completely ignoring Kniya's absolute bewilderment as he stared at the ridiculous poster. "Well... don't you think we should enjoy our day? Yeah, I got an idea. What if we buy a CD of this movie, and we can watch the movie with everyone at the office? What do you think about it?"
Kniya aggressively slammed his foot on the brakes, entirely horrified by the suggestion.
"No, Malesh! I absolutely do not think so!" Kniya yelled, gesturing wildly at the poster. "That is a terrible idea! It will just add fuel to the fire, to the absolute anger of Salesh! Walking into the headquarters two hours late with a movie CD about a 'Tree Spy Activist' is going to get us killed!"
"No, no. It is a great idea," Malesh insisted, completely rejecting Kniya's panic with his stubborn, cold logic. "What do you think? It would really calm the moods of Salesh and Filoska, because they have been working really hard all day balancing the ledgers. An engaging cinematic experience is exactly what they require."
"It is going to raise their blood pressure so high their heads will literally explode!" Kniya argued passionately. "They don't want a cinematic experience, Malesh, they want us to do our fucking jobs!"
Malesh just stared at him, holding the ridiculous movie poster, completely unyielding and entirely serious about his plan.
Kniya groaned loudly, aggressively rubbing his temples as he realized he was never, ever going to win an argument against Malesh's unyielding stubbornness. He slammed the gearshift forward, violently accelerating the steam sedan back onto the dirt road.
"Okay, fine!" Kniya complained loudly, his chaotic energy fully surrendering to the absolute madness of the situation. "So yeah, now we need to take a massive detour and drive to a fucking CD store so that we can buy the fucking CD for this movie before Salesh actually burns down the entire building!"
The Cinematic Sales Pitch
After a long, aggressive drive through the winding roads, the armored steam sedan finally pulled into a busy commercial district. Kniya parked the massive vehicle near a densely packed row of small retail shops, killing the roaring R12 engines.
As they stepped out of the car, an incredibly bizarre sound echoed from the storefront directly in front of them.
A retail salesman was standing outside a brightly lit shop, aggressively waving a stack of shiny discs at the passing crowd.
"One CD for two hundred credits!" the sales guy screamed at the top of his lungs, moving his hands wildly like an auctioneer. "This premium stack right here for five hundred! High-action, top-tier cinematic CDs for twelve hundred credits! Come get your CDs!"
Kniya froze, his chaotic energy completely short-circuiting as he stared at the yelling man.
"What the fuck is happening right now?" Kniya asked, utterly bewildered. "I have seen local vegetable vendors scream exactly like that to sell fresh tomatoes and onions on the street. But I have never, in my entire life, seen a fucking CD store owner pitch his inventory like a desperate street hawker. I think so our country is really weird."
Malesh smoothly adjusted his silk tie, looking at the screaming salesman with pure deadpan disbelief.
"Yeah, his business logic makes absolutely zero sense," Malesh agreed flatly. "He is just yelling, 'one CD for two hundred.' What does that even mean? He doesn't name the movie. He doesn't even mention the genre. Just 'CD.' Who the hell is going to buy a random, unlabeled piece of plastic without knowing what is actually on it?"
Ignoring the absolute absurdity of the street pitch, the two billionaires walked past the yelling man and stepped inside the cluttered store.
"Excuse me," Kniya called out to the store owner standing behind the main counter. "We need to immediately purchase one CD for the movie Bunti, the Tree Spy Activist."
The moment Kniya spoke the title, the store owner's entire demeanor violently shifted. He didn't just nod and grab a disc. Instead, he ducked completely behind the cash register.
When he stood back up a second later, he had slapped a terrible, highly fake mustache onto his upper lip. He was holding a literal wooden tree twig in his left hand, entirely committing to the aesthetic of an ancient, gritty forest dweller.
"Yes... yes... yes..." the strange sales guy whispered, aggressively lowering his vocal register into a dark, deep, and highly dramatic cinematic tone. He narrowed his eyes, leaning over the counter as if he were passing along highly classified federal intel.
He slowly slid a plastic CD case across the glass counter, tapping the tree twig against it.
"You seek the forbidden archives of the multi faced good guy from people's perspective," the sales guy rasped, acting like a grizzled old war veteran. "Here is your fucking CD, corporate men. Do not let the truth of activist into the wrong hands."
Kniya and Malesh just stood there in absolute silence.
Kniya blinked, looking from the fake mustache to the tree twig. Is this guy a really good, highly trained theater actor, or just an absolutely terrible CD seller? Kniya thought to himself, completely unable to tell the difference.
Malesh, entirely unfazed by the theatrical performance, simply pulled out his expensive leather wallet.
"What is the cost of this?" Malesh asked flatly.
"For the secrets of Bunti..." the sales guy whispered deeply, leaning in closer. "Just five thousand credits."
Kniya's eyebrows shot up. He casually pulled a thick stack of high-denomination bills from his pocket and tossed them onto the counter without a second thought.
"Okay, Here is the cash," Kniya said smoothly. "But I will be honest with you, it is quite expensive, don't you think?"