He's never been this nervous before, not even when he was still entering the 500-feet building with countless stories. His hands were shaking, he was definitely sweating and damn, was he sure that his armpits would've been wet by now. It's not even helping that he's wearing a pretty tight suit.

Applicant #15! Showtime, buddy!

And there we have it! Applicant number 15 is on the go, looking ready like Dora. And here we have applicant number 17 ready to pee the Pacific Ocean out of his bladder. Jackson can't get why everyone's looking calm and ready to conquer anything and yet he's feeling nauseous than ever. His heart is pumping like crazy and he's not even in love. He's starting to notice every little detail like the texture of the couch he's sitting on, the modern interior of the room, and even his co-applicant's lovely s.

Applicant #16! It's your turn!

"Wait, what?" He finally speaks up, still looking as frantic as he could get. Heading over to number 16, "It's over? That fast? I mean, you looked okay and confident and and an- just how?" He asks the slouching guy who looks very pale, this time, like Swiper after being stopped by Dora.

Applicant number 16 could only sigh and give Jackson a pat on his shoulders, muttering a short phrase of motivation for Jackson. "Good luck, boy." The guy leaves Jackson alone, walking with his head down and showing nothing but an aura of despair.

Applicant #17! Chop, chop!

Oh yeah, chop chop my body. Jackson thinks while getting his resume and fixing himself before entering.

This time, he checks his check-list, very ironic, he knows.

Breathe in, breathe out. Resume, ready. Suit, fixed. Shoes, shined. Eyebrows, on fleek. Sweats, gone. Jackson is good-to-go.

He takes hold of thee doorknob and opens the door to one hell of a ride. A new breeze of wind, courtesy of the airconditioner, hits Jackson's face, like right on his face. Still, this doesn't stop him.

He puts on a smile and walks toward the neat and sleek desk with all files and folders arranged properly. The bookshelves, paintings, seats, tables, ornaments, and carpet could not be missed as it all looked luxurious just by a single glance. Starting to walk slowly, this sort of stops him.

The ambiance of a really sophisticated person suddenly gets Jackson more nervous than before, making him squint and gulp a gallon of saliva. He finally stops and the heel of his leather black shoes make a series of echoes. The silent room is deafening to say the least and Jackson just wants to jump out of the window and fly like Peter Pan.

The black (also leather) recliner hiding the boss finally turns around and the tension builds up, making Jackson hit his limit.

It's none other than the magnificent asian lizard,

Mark. Yi-en. Tuan.

"Well, well, well."