"I know."
"Do you?"
The question hit harder than anything else. William stood now, slowly matching Malik's level. "I didn't expect what happened," he said.
Malik didn't respond, because part of him believed that and part of him didn't.
"I expected someone to try," William continued. "Maybe fail. Maybe give up." He paused. "But you didn't."
The hallway felt smaller, tighter.
"You didn't ask for anything," William said. "You didn't hesitate. And when it was done, you walked away."
Malik's jaw tightened. "That's what you're supposed to do."
"No," William said quietly. "That's what almost nobody does."
The words settled between them. And for a second, the anger didn't disappear, but it shifted, just slightly.
"Why are you telling me this?" Malik asked.
William held his gaze. "Because I need you to understand something," he said.
Malik waited.
"I'm not here to pay you," William said. "I'm here because you passed."
The silence that followed felt different: not empty, not heavy—just open.
Malik looked at him. Really looked this time. "You still haven't said what that means," he said.
William nodded. "I know."
He reached into his pocket, but this time it wasn't money. It was something else. And whatever it was, it was about to change everything again.
William slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket: not money, not a contract—just a folded piece of paper. He held it between his fingers for a moment before offering it to Malik.
Malik didn't take it right away. He just stared at it, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What is that?" he asked.
"An opportunity," William said.
Malik almost laughed—not because it was funny, but because it sounded like something he had heard before: from people who came and went, from people who talked big and disappeared faster. "Everybody says that," Malik muttered.
William didn't react. "Open it," he said.