Chapter 1

The company demanded our team work overtime to meet a deadline, causing everyone to forget to clock out.

I went to HR, who told me to talk to the boss.

I went to the boss, who told me to "learn my lesson."

Seriously? The company makes money, the client gets their project on time.

And I, just a lowly worker, pull an all-nighter, damage my health, and lose my monthly attendance bonus?

Am I some kind of doormat?

I quit!

I hate working on projects for Indian clients.

The Indians messed up the timeline, demanding our security platform - originally scheduled to launch in two weeks - go live 10 days early.

In just 5 days, we have to complete performance optimization, bug fixes, security audits, OS compatibility testing, comprehensive testing, gather user feedback and make improvements.

I'm exhausted. I feel like jumping out the office window.

At 3 AM, to meet the deadline, all 12 members of the "Cloud Shadow Intelligent Security Defense Platform" project team are still working in the office.

Everyone knows we're on a tight schedule, so no one has gone home.

As the project lead, I'm truly grateful for everyone's dedication.

But little did we know, our conscientiousness in staying to work overtime without leaving the office even once would backfire.

It caused our entire team to be marked as leaving early the previous day for not clocking out, and absent today for not clocking in.

When Emma came to me with the attendance records, I thought it was a minor issue that could be easily fixed by talking to HR.

After all, the office security footage would prove we all stayed in the office working overtime.

Even the usual slackers cut down on their bathroom breaks.

I immediately grabbed my phone and headed to HR, planning to sort it out and get some fresh air.

My fingers were practically turning to stone from coding for so long.

Entering the HR office, I found three women chatting away.

One was showing off her new manicure, another complaining about her mischievous kid, and the third laughing hysterically at some TV show.

I felt a pang of envy. When would I get to enjoy such a relaxed workday, gossiping during office hours?

Seeing me, the happy atmosphere in the office instantly evaporated.

The three women froze, clearly not expecting anyone to come to HR so early. They silently returned to their desks.

I wondered if I'd come at a bad time and ruined their fun.

The woman closest to the door, with an elaborate updo and full makeup, was the manicure lady. She rolled her eyes, glanced at me, and asked coldly: "What do you want?"

I showed her my attendance record: "Can you remove these early departure and absence records? Our project team got notified yesterday that we need to launch the platform 10 days early. Everyone stayed late last night, so we didn't..."

"Hold on," Manicure Lady raised her left hand, her right hand tapping away at the keyboard.

My unfinished sentence got stuck in my throat. I could only wait silently.

Manicure Lady's brow furrowed, then relaxed, then looked suspicious: "Tsk, what's going on with your team? 12 people, all without clock-outs yesterday, and all absent this morning."

When asking for a favor, you have to be polite:

"We were working overtime yesterday and forgot to clock out. We even slept in the office. If no one had reminded me this morning, I wouldn't have realized we missed clocking in twice."

Manicure Lady kept staring at her computer screen, clicking her mouse incessantly: "Ugh, so annoying."

She suddenly slammed her mouse on the desk, leaned back in her chair, looking very irritated:

"I can't remove this. There's not even a leave request. How am I supposed to fix it?"

I stood there stunned, not expecting such an attitude from Manicure Lady.

Lack of sleep, plus all the coffee I'd been drinking like water these past two days, made my temper flare up quickly.

Before I knew it, I slammed my hand on Manicure Lady's desk, pointing at her nose: "What's with your attitude? Who are you giving attitude to?"

The three HR women looked at me in horror.

Looking at the three of them, I suddenly regretted my outburst.

Our company's HR department was nicknamed the "Wives Club" because it was staffed by the wives or female relatives of company executives.

I'd gotten bold today and actually yelled at the Wives Club.

The HR ladies were used to throwing their weight around, but Manicure Lady clearly hadn't expected me to be so forceful. She deflated a bit.

She muttered: "Why are you getting angry? If it can't be fixed, it can't be fixed. If you've got a problem, go talk to the boss."

I grabbed my phone and practically ran out of the HR office.

Oh no, I'm in trouble now. Who knows which executive's wife Manicure Lady is.

But after leaving the office, I calmed down.

What am I afraid of? I'm a tech backbone of the company, doing real work and making money for them.

Surely no brain-dead executive would fire me, right?