Job Stolen, I Took N+1 and Quit Chapter 1

The layoff wave hit Big Tech, and the company gave us two options.

Option one: take the N+1 severance package and leave. Option two: take a pay cut and transfer to the new, godforsaken “Pioneer” department to build it from the ground up.

In my last life, I chose the new department.

It turned out to be a secret R&D hub for the company’s push into AI. Three years later, everyone’s stock options exploded, and I became financially independent. My best friend, Jessica, took the severance, gambled it all on the stock market, lost everything, and ended up driving her car into mine, sending us both off an overpass to our deaths.

Reborn, I found myself back in that meeting room. The moment the HR manager finished speaking, Jessica slammed her hands on the table.

“I’m taking the new department! Don’t even think about fighting me for it!”

She shot me a venomous glare. “Take your pathetic severance and get lost. The future is mine.”

I signed the severance agreement without a second thought.

* * *

The gazes of my colleagues pricked my skin like needles.

Someone whispered, “Is Ava crazy? I heard the new department is the CEO's pet project. It'll be tough for a couple of years, but after that, it's all founder’s stock.”

“Short-sighted. What do you expect from a woman?”

Jessica’s chin lifted higher at their words, preening like a victorious rooster.

In my past life, that same rooster was the one who, just as I was about to cash in my stock options, drove me off that bridge because she was drowning in debt to loan sharks.

The feeling of my bones shattering still lingered, a ghost pain in my limbs.

I smiled.

“Fine, Jessica. This golden ticket to unimaginable wealth? It’s all yours.”

I slapped the signed agreement on the table.

“N+1. I want every last cent, and I want it in my account by the end of today. Also, I’m taking the money tree from my desk.”

Jessica sneered. “So pathetic. You even want a stupid plant.”

She didn’t know that buried in the soil of that plant was a hardware dongle I’d tinkered with in my past life—the physical key required to boot the core code.

Without it, the new department’s so-called “core assets” were nothing but a pile of gibberish.

I started packing my things.

My box was only half-full when Jessica strode over and kicked it, sending everything scattering across the floor.

My keyboard, mouse, and notebooks clattered loudly.

“Oops, sorry. My foot slipped,” she said, her voice dripping with mock apology, her eyes burning with challenge.

Then, she shrieked, “Mark! I think Ava has a confidential company hard drive in her box! I just saw it! She’s trying to steal company property!”

The HR manager and security guards swarmed over instantly.

The manager frowned. “Ava, open your bag. We need to check it.”

Everyone was watching, waiting for the show. Getting laid off was one thing, but being publicly searched on your way out was the ultimate workplace humiliation.

I looked at Jessica’s triumphant face, feeling no anger, only a detached pity, like watching a clown perform its tired act.

“You can check,” I said calmly. “But if you find nothing, then what?”

Jessica crossed her arms. “If there’s nothing, I’ll get on my knees and apologize. But if there is, you can get ready for prison.”

In the chaos, she had slipped a file labeled “Top Secret” into the inner pocket of my bag. It was a slick move, but amateurish.

I pulled out my phone and connected to the office’s smart surveillance system—a little plugin I’d installed myself to test a visual algorithm. No one knew it existed.

I mirrored my phone’s screen to the large TV in the conference room.

And there it was, in glorious high definition: Jessica, furtively stuffing the file into my bag. The image was so clear you could see the poorly blended pimple on her cheek.

The room fell dead silent.

Jessica’s face turned the color of raw liver. The HR manager’s face was as black as the bottom of a pot.

“Jessica,” he growled. “Care to explain?”

She trembled. “I… I was just joking with her…”

“On your knees,” I said, my voice cold.

Jessica bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn’t move.

I raised my phone. “Fine. Don’t kneel. I’ll just send this video to every HR group in the industry. And file a police report for false accusation while I’m at it.”

Thud.

Jessica’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I picked up my box and stepped over her.

“Save your knees. You’ll be doing a lot more begging in the future.”

Outside, the sunlight was blinding. My phone vibrated. A text from my bank. The severance had arrived. Thirty-five thousand dollars. My startup capital.

As I passed the smoking area, I saw a couple of security guards shoving a man. He was a mess—unshaven, his hair greasy and matted, wearing a yellowed white t-shirt. His eyes were utterly dead.

Noah.

In my last life, he was the company’s Director of Technology. After offending the CEO, he was sidelined and eventually fired for “gross misconduct,” forced to pay the company a fifty-thousand-dollar breach of contract fine.

No one knew that this man, who now looked like a homeless person, was the true architect of the company’s AI strategy. The core logic of the new department’s project was all his work.

In my past life, he vanished after leaving, sinking into obscurity. The company, meanwhile, rode the coattails of his unfinished code for three years.

“Get lost! Sell a kidney if you can’t pay!” a guard sneered.

Noah stared at the ground, his fists clenched white, silent.

I walked over and stood between them.

“I’ll pay his fine.”

The guards stared. “Ava, are you crazy? This guy’s a total washout.”

Noah’s head snapped up, a flicker of disbelief in his dead eyes.

I took out my bank card, the money still warm in my account, and paid the fifty thousand dollars.

It was everything I had, plus my savings.

I didn’t even blink.

After the paperwork was done, Noah stood on the sidewalk, clutching the termination agreement, his voice hoarse.

“Why? What do you want from me?”

I looked at him and pressed the bank card, now with only a few hundred dollars left, into his hand.

“I don’t want you, and I don’t want your money.”

“Noah, I want your brain.”

“Work with me.”

Upstairs, behind a floor-to-ceiling window, Jessica was watching us through a pair of binoculars. She snapped a photo and posted it online with a caption:

Trash belongs with trash. It’s hilarious how some people find a piece of garbage and treat it like treasure.

I put my phone away and smiled at Noah.

“Come on. Let’s go set the world on fire.”