Investing in My Crippled Wife: Every Return Makes Me Stronger

Chapter 138: A Change of Pace

"Urgh-!"

Soren reacted on instinct, shifting his center of gravity and digging his heel into the polished floor. The sudden momentum of the collision jolted his frame, but his sharp reflexes kicked in just in time. He twisted his shoulders, barely managing to steady his footing and stop himself from losing his balance completely.

Regaining his stance, Soren looked up to see who he had run into.

The man standing before him was tall and muscular, built like a brick wall beneath a tailored suit that stretched tight against his broad shoulders. He stood completely unmoved by the impact, staring down at Soren with a heavy, prominent frown. The man’s eyes narrowed, flickering over Soren with a look of pure irritation, as if he had just been annoyed by a stray fly buzzing into his path.

"My apologies," Soren said first, keeping his tone calm and polite. He had no intention of causing a scene in the middle of the Bureau lobby, so he stepped to the side, intending to continue on his way to the lounge.

"Stop."

The man’s deep, booming voice cut through the air, halting Soren in his tracks.

"Is that all you have to say?"

Soren turned back around, a faint trace of confusion crossing his face before reality clicked. Looking at the man’s rigid posture and the blatant expression of wounded pride, his mind quickly filled in the blanks.

It seemed he had just encountered one of those people. The type who walked around with an inflated sense of self-importance, viewing every minor inconvenience as a personal insult to their status. In a place teeming with awakened power and rank like the bureau, characters like this were practically a dime a dozen—individuals who lived to turn a simple accidental bump into a dramatic test of dominance.

During his years working various grueling part-time jobs, Soren had been on the receiving end of this exact look from arrogant clients, hunters, and low-level managers. Back then, he was always the suffering side, the one who had to bow lower, apologize multiple times, and swallow his emotions just to protect his livelihood.

He knew intimately that people like this didn’t want a logical resolution; they wanted a show of submission to satisfy their egos.

Trying to act cold or indifferent would only be misread as defiance, dragging the interaction out into a giant headache.

The best way to deal with them without dragging things out would be to just play the familiar part, hand them a shallow victory, and move on.

Soren dipped his head slightly, keeping his expression neutral and non-threatening. "I wasn’t paying close enough attention to the corner. I apologize for bumping into you, sir."

The muscular man let out a sharp, derisive snort, crossing his massive arms over his chest. He didn’t seem entirely satisfied with the lack of fear in Soren’s voice, stepping a fraction closer to use his height as intimidation.

"Watch where you’re going next time, brat," the man sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. "Or else..."

He trailed off, leaning forward just enough to let the unspoken threat hang heavily in the air.

"I’ll be more careful, sir. My apologies again," Soren said, keeping up the act.

The brief standoff was already drawing a few lingering eyes from the surrounding area. While a couple of hunters lounged back to enjoy the casual drama, the staff intentionally looked away, choosing not to get involved.

Soren caught the faint, hurried whispers of two lower-ranking hunters standing near a pillar just a few paces away.

"Hey, isn’t that Drake? The B-rank hunter from the Iron Vanguard guild?"

"Yeah, that’s him. He’s notorious for throwing his weight around. The staff won’t touch him unless a fight breaks out."

"Hmph." Drake let out a satisfied grunt, clearly enjoying the audience and Soren’s lack of resistance. He gave Soren one last dismissive glare, adjusting his jacket as if he had successfully put a nuisance in its place.

Just as the tension began to dissipate and Soren prepared to finally step past him, the heavy elevator doors at the far end of the lobby chimed loudly, echoing across the wide hall.

The sound instantly drew everyone’s attention in the area, cutting off the ambient chatter.

The central elevator was reserved strictly for high-ranking executives and top bureau officials, and a quiet hush fell over the crowd as the polished steel doors began to slide open.

Stepping out from the elevator car was none other than President Craig Marron himself. He moved with a commanding presence, his discipline evident in his sharp, neat white hair and well-groomed white beard. His sharp jawline and strong brow radiated the quiet authority of a man who managed the entire Bureau’s regional ecosystem.

The entire lobby seemed to hold its breath. It was incredibly rare to see the President down in the public reception area, let alone moving with such an explicit sense of purpose.

Drake’s eyes widened slightly at the sight. The arrogant smirk vanished from his face, replaced instantly by a rigid, respectful posture. He quickly adjusted his stance, puffing out his chest as he prepared to offer a deep, formal greeting to the most powerful man in the Bureau, hoping to make a good impression.

President Marron scanned the room, his eyes sweeping over the crowd before locking directly onto the corner where Soren was standing. Without a glance at anyone else, the President began walking straight toward them, his long strides cutting across the marble floor.

Drake’s heart hammered against his ribs. A surge of excitement rushed through him as he realized the President was heading right in his direction. He stepped forward slightly, clearing his throat to speak. "Good afternoon, Mr. President. It is an honor—"

President Marron didn’t even slow down. He brushed right past the B-rank hunter without a single glance, treating the massive man like total glass.

Stopping directly in front of Soren, the President’s stern expression completely melted away, replaced by a warm, genuinely welcoming smile. He extended a hand in a firm greeting.

"Ah, Soren! Excellent timing. I hope the drive over wasn’t too much of a hassle?"

The entire lobby went dead silent. The two hunters by the pillar froze in sheer shock, and Drake stood completely paralyzed, his extended hand still hovering awkwardly in the empty air as his brain scrambled to comprehend what he was seeing.

On the other hand, Soren felt a wave of slight awkwardness wash over him under the sudden, intense spotlight of the entire lobby.

He glanced briefly at Drake, who was still frozen in place like a ridiculous statue, before turning his eyes back to the waiting President. Sighing inwardly at his ruined plan to just fly under the radar, he gave up on trying to stay invisible.

"Not at all, Mr. President," Soren replied respectfully, taking the offered hand in a firm shake. "The drive was incredibly smooth. Thank you again for the vehicle; it’s more than I could have asked for."

President Marron let out a hearty laugh, clapping Soren lightly on the shoulder. "Nonsense, it is the absolute least the Bureau can do for talent of your caliber. Anyway, follow me; I want to show you something."

Instead of turning back toward the executive elevators he had just vacated, the President gestured toward a secure, heavily reinforced corridor leading to the facility’s lower levels.

As President Marron began leading the way, Soren followed a step behind. Passing by Drake, Soren caught a glimpse of the B-rank hunter’s face. The man looked completely drained of color, his jaw slightly slack as he tried to process how the "low-rank regular" he had just threatened was casually chatting with the head of the organization as if they were close friends.

The crowd of onlookers parted like the Red Sea as they walked, the hushed murmurs from earlier completely replaced by a stunned, reverent silence as Soren and the President disappeared down the secure hallway.