《My Bloodysweet : It’s All in My Blood》


 The real Synopsis

    If you give a great story to an amateur writer, what else do you expect but an ordinary tale?


    Fortunately, I''m here to save the day, as usual.


    Thanks to my wit, uniqueness, and magnificence, this story will be remarkable, of course.


    So join me to witness my journeys full of secrets, battles, and epics.


    (Author: What are you doing now?)


    What? Didn''t you say I needed a Synopsis of the story? Did you lose your memory or something?


    (Author: I told you to say something that would get readers excited to read.)


    And what do you think I''m doing here?


    (Author: What''s exciting about what you just said?)


    Idiot, just tell me directly what you want.


    (Author: The idiot is your mother.)


    I have nothing to say about that. Now, if you''re done with your pointless barking, say something useful.


    (Author: Just mention the things they''ll find in your story. Why are you pretending to be clueless as if you didn''t read web novels before ?)


    Don''t tell me something I know. Tell me something I don''t know.


    Anyway, I''ll try again.


    An ordinary boy, subjected to psychological and mental torment with no hope or escape, finds himself Incarnated in a body that is not his own in his previous world.


    But, surprisingly, he¡­


    (Author: Stop, stop, stop¡­)


    What do you want now?


    (Author: I said a Synopsis, not spoilers. Are you doing this on purpose?)


    You said I should mention things readers will find in the story. Are you naturally stupid, or is it something you''ve cultivated since childhood?


    (Author: Son of bitch)


    I can''t argue with that.


    (Author: Oh god, out of all the stories, why did I choose yours instead of anyone else''s?)


    You wretch, and who gave you attention other than me? Have you forgotten the day you were wagging your tail, trying to curry favor to get me to let you tell my story? Have you forgotten?A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    (Author: my foot. It''s an honor for you that I''m telling your lowly story, you nobody.)


    Nobody? I am an emperor in my world; what are you in yours?


    Just a nobody sitting in the dark in your shabby room, poor and hunched over your computer, writing nonstop.


    And when you''re done writing, you sit on your ass, praying to God that someone will like that garbage you wrote because you know that if no one does, you''ll starve.


    No respect, no knowledge, no value, you don''t even know your left from your right. When someone surprises you and asks you where your heart is, it takes you minutes to realize it''s on the right.


    (Author: It''s on the left.)


    I¡ªI know, my mind wandered because of you.


    (Author: Actually, it''s in the middle of the chest with a slight lean to the left.)


    ...


    (Author: Since you''re done now, quickly wrap up this Synopsis. I''m trapped by the character count, man.)


    I''ll try one last time, and don''t interrupt me.


    (Author: Fine.)


    They say there''s a bright light at the end of the tunnel. Where''s that light, you braggart? I don''t see it.


    They say no matter how long the night, the sun will rise in the end. Don''t even mention that pathetic sun; it can''t stay up all day, and even when it shows up in winter, it fails to warm the air.


    They say hell is underground or in another world, but why do I go to it every day? And if I''m late, the bitch is there waiting for me with her filthy smile.


    They say to ease your suffering, think of others'' suffering. Why should I care about others? What''s it to me?


    Even after finishing my journey in hell, which was a complete failure, suffering remained my companion, my only friend, even though I never asked it to stay with me, man.


    What does a sad and desperate soul like me do? I decided to travel to other worlds to other realms, only to find death waiting for me.


    Nothing happened the way I wanted; I never owned anything I desired before¡ªin fact, I never desired anything before.


    And when I thought it was the end, suddenly, I found myself in a body that was not my own. You all know the usual clich¨¦.


    Since the author has no talent, he thought he''d be different by not giving the protagonist a golden finger. Instead, he gave me his middle finger, that son of bitch.


    But wait, I may have spoken too soon.


    I take back my words; he gave me a golden finger after all. Truly lacking in creativity.


    (Author: You''re like Whore ,no matter what you do, you won''t please her.)


    Have you ever considered it might be because of your weak friend down there?


    Anyway, let''s ignore the fools. Where was I? Ah, yes.


    In short.


    This story is about the last enjoyable person in an age full of boredom.


    This story is about a genius in a time full of fools.


    This is my story, The man who knows everything.


    Alright, how''s that?


    (Author: I don''t¡ªI don''t know. Doesn''t it sound like you''re misleading them?)


    Where''s the misleading ? I don''t see it.


    I dare you to say I said anything untrue.


    (Author: Well, technically, you didn''t lie.)


    So what''s your problem? If I''m like whore who will never be satisfied, you''re like the donkey; no matter how many times you ride him, you''ll never see his face happy.


    Your mother is a donkey.


    I have no response to that.


    Are you taking advantage of the fact that you know everything about my life while I know nothing about yours?


    (Author: That''s what I''m doing, man. Just finish it. You''re making me regret asking for such a simple thing.)


    I''m truly done now.


    Now, let everyone get their butts up and start reading the greatest story ever told, not because of the author but because of the amazing protagonist, which is me.


    And you, go post the Patreon link and start begging for money like a beggar¡ªyou disgrace to all authors.


    It''s a good thing I''m not an author, or I''d be ashamed just being put in the same category as you.


    (Author: Ouch, that hurts.)


    That''s okay, this is a natural sequence when you''re trying to widen a tight hole, son of a¡ª


    (Author: Let''s stop here before we find ourselves somewhere we don''t want to be.)


    this is The real Synopsis


    (Author: this is your ass)

 Prologue: Finally, you鈥檙e here.

    Oh, this motherf...


    First, he said he needed a synopsis, and now a prologue? Does he think I''m some slave his father bought for him?


    If I''m the one doing everything, then what''s the point of him?


    Damn it! I should have asked for his r¨¦sum¨¦ before signing the contract. No one learns for free, right?


    That scoundrel had been hiding like a stalker until the day came for me to catch him.


    I had my doubts from the beginning. I was about to hold him accountable, but he kept insisting he could make my story known to everyone, so I let it go. Damn it, I feel like I''ve been swindled.


    In any case, sooner or later, I''ll gain the ability to move between dimensions. Then, I''ll follow him like a ghost, and the moment I grab his neck, I''ll...


    Anyway, that''s something between me and him. And what lies between the two of us is known to no third party


    Anyway, what''s taking him so long?


    Wait, could there be a problem with the synopsis? ¡­Ah, it seems I need to break my habit of jumping to conclusions.


    Finally, he brings his ass over here. What took YOU so long?


    I sensed his jelly-like presence standing there. He didn''t seem to grasp what was going on, his body frozen for a moment as his eyes darted in all directions. No matter how much he moved, confusion remained plastered across his face.


    Before him was a giant door, firmly shut, which, with just a thought from me, began creaking open on its own.


    He was astonished by this simple gesture. I can understand his feelings after all, the door opened by itself. If I were in his place, I''d think this place was haunted.


    But wait¡­ didn''t he read the Tags section? Don''t tell me was there some dumb update?


    Anyway, he finally started mustering some courage and took a few hesitant steps forward.


    From time to time, he''d encounter a closed door, only for me to reopen it. Seems like he''s starting to get used to it a little.


    At last, he reached the intended destination.


    His body trembled slightly. Ignoring it, I commanded the door to open for him. If you''re shaking already, what''s going to happen when you see me?


    As soon as the door swung open, a dark aura slammed into his pitiful body, making his trembling even worse.


    Damn it! I''ve been careless. My bad, my bad.


    I retracted the aura, letting him regain some composure. Slowly, he opened his eyes and began to witness greatness itself manifest before him.


    One leg crossed over the other, my head tilted back as smoke rose from the cigarette in my mouth, pouring thick clouds like a chimney. Even the finest fireplace would feel envious.


    His confusion only deepened at the sight before him.


    And who could blame him? After all, I''m stunningly handsome.


    I lifted my head slightly to cast a glance at YOU.


    Hmm, interesting. I can''t make out your face or even your figure.


    Good. Who knows? You might be ugly. I wouldn''t want to hurt my eyes. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    You''ll say, I''m handsome.


    No way you''re better looking than me get those ridiculous thoughts out of your head.


    (Author: Dude, you''re ruining my business here.)


    Shut up, you bastard! No one asked you to make me meet this guy in the first place.


    Back to the point, without moving my eyes away from you, I opened my mouth.


    "Why were you late¡­"


    I quickly stopped my words upon noticing his body trembling again.


    Damn it! I''ve suppressed my aura, and he still can''t handle it.


    Will my powers even work on him in this state? Let''s see.


    Relax.


    I focused my energy on him. Good, he''s calm now. What was I saying? Oh, right.


    "Why were you late? That bastard said you''d be here any moment. Do you know how long I''ve waited? Almost an hour!"


    Okay, fine, I lied about the hour, but not about the waiting part.


    How long did I wait? That''s a complicated matter. You see, the interdimensional overlap with spacetime creates a split in existence, wherein I am and am not simultaneously. That''s the real question.


    Don''t ask me what I''m talking about¡ªit''s too complex for your brain. Even the author can''t comprehend it. Hell, I don''t even get it. Nobody does.


    I mean, how do you explain illogicality with logic? Am I insane, or what?


    What am I saying? Never mind.


    I noticed your attention drifting toward the ground you were standing on. It was soaked with blood.


    Yeah, you could call it a pool of blood.


    "Don''t overthink it. It''s not about you, but I need to cover my bases. Who knows? You might be an enemy in disguise."


    You raised your head, and I could tell you frowned.


    Okay, fine, I can''t see your face, but I know you frowned.


    I know, I know¡ªyou''ll say, "I didn''t frown." I''ll say you did, but you just don''t know it. Let''s leave it at that.


    Anyway, your gaze fell on the thing perched on my shoulders.


    Remember when I said you frowned? Well, that frown deepened because you couldn''t make out what it was¡ªor even its color.


    "Didn''t I tell you not to focus too much? You won''t see or understand anything unless I allow it. I wanted to tell you this earlier, but that bastard kept nagging me not to ''spoil'' anything, as if I''m tarnishing his honor or something."


    So, how do I look? Majestic, right?


    I mean, just look at my long black hair, darker than the night itself.


    And my muscles¡ªthey''re practically screaming to rip through this exquisitely tailored suit.


    Look at my eyes¡ªblack as the void. I can even make them glow yellow.


    Your body trembled again, filling me with utter disappointment as I reverted my eyes to their natural state.


    Man, your level is so low. If I let you see anything else,I''d worry you''d lose your life.


    Alright, you''re a beginner, still stuck in the prologue. You''ve got a long journey ahead, my friend.


    Think of yourself as a seed, growing as you progress through the chapters. With each chapter, you''ll grow stronger, allowing me to reveal more and, of course, fattening that scoundrel''s pockets.


    By the way, don''t you think authors are just like parasites? Think about it. Don''t they literally feed off our lives?


    Creating all sorts of problems and challenges just so they can eat. Disgusting. And you people support them. I''m disappointed ,I thought you were family, man.


    What now? That bastard said I don''t know what happens in the prologue.


    *BOOM!*


    *BOOM!*


    *BOOM!*


    Your focus shifted to the noise outside, but I snapped you back with a finger click.


    "Didn''t I tell you not to focus too much? They''re just pests trying to sneak in."


    "Darling!"


    Oh, crap! Looks like I really am late.


    Let''s wrap this up.


    "I''m coming!"


    I turned my attention back to you.


    "Look, let me warn you before you start your journey. I have a tongue sharper than the tallest tower in your world. I''ve insulted countless people and contradicted myself more times than I can count. Also, I have a filthy, scheming mind that plays all sorts of nasty games with me. So, fair warning."


    "Darling, what are you doing?"


    "I said I''m coming! I''m coming!"


    I jumped up from my seat, rushing to a door you hadn''t noticed before.


    Before pushing it open, I quickly stubbed out my cigarette. If she catches me smoking, she''ll give me that look, and I can''t handle that.


    I''m not a simp. I just value relationships, alright?


    Tossing the cigarette aside, I entered the room.


    "What have you been doing all this time?"


    "Nothing important. Just chatting with someone."


    "With whom?"


    "With whom?"


    "Forget it. Just tell me what''s going on."


    "I''m going to attack them."


    "What?"


    Damn it! Her usual madness is kicking in.


    "Is this the plan you''ve been going on about?"


    "Yes."


    She answered so casually, like she was talking about going for a picnic.


    Why do I even talk to lunatics?


    I turned to the most reasonable person in the room.


    "What''s the plan?"


    "I told you, we''re going to¡ª"


    "My suggestion is, in the first step, we should¡ª"


    Damn it, damn it! I rushed to the door and shut it.


    I don''t want that motherf¡­ to open his sewer-like mouth, so I prevented spoil from reaching your ears.


    And you, what are you waiting for? This chapter is over.


    Move on to the next one, if the author isn''t too lazy, that is.


    I hate lazy authors.


    Always a break, son of bitch.


    (Author: the bitch is Your mother)


    Let''s not go there.


    (Author: I''m already there you¡­)

 chapter 1: I forgot to introduce myself. Didnt I?

    I''ve always thought about this moment.


    The hero falls to the ground, drowning in his blood, held by his beloved with red eyes dried from crying over him, surrounded by his allies listening to his last words to preserve them and pass them on to future generations as a source of inspiration.


    Or the villain, after his defeat, lying on the ground, speaking with all arrogance and defiance, spewing a bunch of nonsense to shake the hero''s beliefs and gain the audience''s sympathy.


    Ah, ah, ah, this is truly painful.


    Unfortunately, I''m neither a hero nor a villain, of course.


    I''m just a failure who spends his time watching and reading stories all day, financially dependent on his parents even after turning thirty.


    Isn''t this the moment when the tape of life before me should begin? Why am I still seeing nothing? Don''t tell me these are just fantasy scenes that writers resort to create empty drama.


    Oh, oh, even this turned out to be a lie. I can''t believe this.


    Wait, my life is terrible.


    I don''t want to see it again. Good, at least for once something I want happens.


    What''s going on? No, no, I said I don''t want to see anything.


    Is this happening out of spite? Or what?


    Damn, even in the last moments of my life, things go against my wishes.


    Suddenly I find myself in a familiar place but can''t pinpoint it exactly. I feel confused.


    All my thoughts are chaotic. I try to remember.


    And while I''m diving into my memories, a voice to my right catches my attention:


    "Pay attention to the lesson. Do you want to be scolded again?"


    I turn to find the owner of the voice, a young boy in his early twenties at most, looking at me with an expression full of emotion that makes me want to vomit.


    Those features, that look. I don''t need effort to remember who he is. And how can one forget the knot of their life?


    All the humiliation and insults I went through were because of this person. And before I''m accused of exaggeration, I feel pain in my head as if someone threw a pen at me.


    "What was I saying?"


    A voice strikes my ears, as if coming from the depths of hell, speaking to me, making my body shudder.


    Without my command, I find myself standing on my feet trembling uncontrollably, with my eyes full of tears and my mouth shut and my tongue stammering. No answer comes out of me.


    "Are you deaf or have you lost the ability to speak?"


    I can''t control where to put my eyes or get a word out of my mouth, let alone move my body.


    It seems to me that in these memories, I''m just a spectator like you.


    The devil in human form approached me, making me take a step back, but the seats are designed narrow and orderly to prevent my defensive steps, leaving me no choice but to face her deadly gaze.


    "Are we going to wait all day to hear your valuable answer?"


    "I..."


    "You what?"


    "I''m... sorry."


    "Sorry for what?"


    This crone didn''t leave me even to gather my thoughts to answer her.


    "I wasn''t paying attention to the..."


    And before I finished my words, a slap fell on my cheek to swell and inflame.


    In seconds, with the help of the pain emanating from my cheek, I was able to distinguish where I was.


    The place where I lived the worst moments of my life that determined my future full of failure and shame. All my psychological problems arose from this hell.


    School, the source of all evils in the world.


    The woman who just slapped me is my teacher, the devil who came out of hell specifically to make me suffer. All this under the care of my mother.


    No matter how psychologically ill a teacher is, they won''t be crazy enough to slap a student in class in front of everyone unless they''re assured that no complaint will be filed.


    And there''s no better assurance than the student''s guardian themselves.


    I''ll never forget when my mother told her


    "not to worry, just hit him when you feel like it."


    And out of nowhere comes the savior to save the situation after what has already happened. But who will collect the spoils?


    "Ma''am, it was my fault. I distracted him when I asked him about something."


    And as soon as everyone turns to look at him, you see admiration and amazement in their eyes, starting a wave of whispers expressing how wonderful and chivalrous he is.


    "Null is really different. He sacrifices himself for his troublemaking friend."


    Damn you and your mother. When have I ever caused you trouble, you pig? I don''t even know who you are.


    An unimportant side character in the story, just shut your mouth.


    "I really envy his girlfriend. Not only is he handsome, but his morals are those of a noble knight riding on a white horse. Ahhh."


    Where''s the horse bitch? Morals? What morals are you talking about? That devil won''t do anything to him. He''s the number one student in the kingdom.


    Imagine the pride she gets from her colleagues'' envious eyes just because he''s in her class. And let me tell you, he doesn''t have a girlfriend. This scum is obsessed with studying and thinking about his bright future.


    "I don''t understand why a successful person like Null befriends a failure and pitiful person like him."


    All this because of my mother. Using her connections, she managed to find out about the rising star to recruit him in hopes of raising my grades.


    But unfortunately, nothing rose except my mother''s blood pressure level.


    "Look at yourself closing your mouth even after hearing your loyal friend sacrifice himself for you. Do you know how much time he wastes just trying to improve your grades? Imagine if he spent more time on his studies, how many records he would break."


    What record is he going to break? He gets perfect scores.


    Curse you all. You lick his ass knowing that with these high grades he will undoubtedly get a high position.


    And of course, what do you think was my response to all this? Does the hero who doesn''t stay silent about his insult and returns one word with ten, leaving mouths wide open and making the number one girl start to admire him come to your mind?


    Hahaha, but don''t forget I''m not hero.


    "I... I''m sorry, ma''am. I''m sorry, Null. I''m sorry everyone. I will do my best to improve myself."


    Red face, eyes full of tears, heart palpitations that don''t stop from fear, with a slight bow of the head, not to mention the excess weight.


    The idea of ??reliving memories is a terrible idea. Who''s the son of a bitch who said it was a great idea?


    Add to that, why does everyone look like a black ghost with glowing white eyes? Only the devil (teacher) and Null have clear features.


    While my mind was spraying a machine gun of useless questions, my vision returned to the pitch darkness I was in before.


    Don''t tell me, I''m going to move from one memory to another.


    What is this torment? Just end this miserable life.


    And as I expected, I moved from one memory to another. The intriguing thing is that all of them, without exception, relate to school, some I had forgotten, and others were impossible to forget.


    After a period I don''t know how long, but the scene finally changed to something different. Not better in turn.


    The hospital. What am I doing in the hospital? Oh, I forgot to tell you. My life has passed in three places with no fourth:If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    First, my room, my private kingdom where no one criticizes you or bullies you.


    You do what you want, when you want, how you want, wherever you want.


    Second, hell or what''s known as school, the place of all evils.


    I''ve always had a firm belief that if there was a Demon King, he would take the school as his kingdom to start his invasion of the world. And that devil bitch (teacher) would be his whore. Hahaha.


    Third and last, the morgue or the hospital. There''s no difference to me.


    I sat on the waiting chair outside the doctor''s office, trimming my nails with my teeth. Directly facing me is a nurse trying to pretend that her focus is entirely on the computer screen, but I caught her eye looking at me several times.


    With my lack of talking to others, my communication skills have become at the level of patients with autism. If my tongue stops working, focus on hearing and sight begins.


    Unfortunately, my hearing didn''t become superhuman, but, but my sight.


    My sight also didn''t become anything special, haha sorry.


    But with my focus on expressions, I can distinguish between pity and anger.


    As for other emotions, sorry, I haven''t seen them to recognize them.


    "After all this effort and money, you tell me you''ve done what you could. Then how do you explain your failure?"


    Let me introduce you to the owner of the voice that enters your eardrum and doesn''t come out until you become deaf: my mother.


    "Ma''am, be realistic. I''m a doctor. What does your son''s success or failure have to do with me?"


    Of course, this is the doctor''s voice in case you weren''t paying attention.


    As for the name, it''s not important because he''s just one of my mother''s slaves who took an order to torture me.


    "The agency that referred me to you said very clearly that these operations help raise students'' grades. And now you say his success or failure has nothing to do with you?"


    Of course, I can smell your confusion.


    What''s the connection here? What does the surgical operation have to do with success in studies?


    Under the slogan "For better focus," the word was spread among parent groups on the internet that there are doctors capable of making children more focused on their studies and away from distractions.


    And after finishing their academic careers, they can be factory reset. But there were three problems:


    First, the amount of money you will spend, from the cost of operations to medicines.


    Add to it the follow-up with more than one doctor, and I''ll leave the amount to your imagination.


    Second, the success rate does not exceed 50/50 during the operation. As for after, good luck.


    Third and most important: illegal. And if you get caught, whether parents or doctor, you will be... uh uh uh I''ll leave this to your imagination too.


    There''s also a fourth reason, which is for the child to accept. But who am I to have an opinion?


    Well, what exactly are these operations? It''s nothing big, nothing big.


    Just a small operation on your male organ, specifically at the level of the testicle.


    The aim is to reduce the secretion of testosterone responsible for sexual desire.


    No desire, no girls, no distractions. An instant and guaranteed solution.


    What? Do you want to try?


    Madness? Haha, you haven''t seen anything. Let me tell you:


    An operation at the level of the legs, specifically the thigh and leg muscles.


    No sports, no risk of injury, no waste of time.


    An operation at the stomach level to reduce appetite.


    Eating to live, not for enjoyment. Eat less, have more free time, take more lessons.


    The ironic thing is that despite all this, I still suffer from weight gain.


    An operation at the brain level to activate its cells. As we know, humans only use 10% of it. Hasn''t this idea been debunked? This is the first thing that came to my mind, but it seems my mother didn''t think much.


    As for medicines, do you have a good ability to calculate?


    Medicine to reduce sleep. Who needs rest? Four hours is enough. Finish your lessons.


    Medicine to ruin the sense of smell. Do you want to smell to feel hungry? Finish your lessons.


    And the list goes on. Take medicine for something and its opposite. How did I survive? I don''t know. Four years have passed in this torment without any notable result.


    The voice rises more and more between the doctor and my mother, and then, nothing.


    Everyone goes their own way. It''s not in anyone''s interest for the matter to reach the authorities.


    But this is not what makes this moment important, but what comes after it. If what I went through was suffering, what comes after this moment can be called torment.


    All medicine appointments. Some she remembers and some she forgets to bring. There was no more interest from her side. Until I became the one who constantly reminds her. With time, she became busy with work and forgot my existence. Every first of the month, she throws a bundle of money into my account and disappears.


    My health started to deteriorate more with time.


    I vomit blood every morning.


    My eyes are red all day long.


    There is no sleep.


    There is no taste to food.


    I will vomit anyway. Hell in every sense of the word.


    Above this, I still have to deal with people''s looks every time I go to the grocery store or the clinic to buy medicines.


    To get rid of this torment, I must undergo a factory reset.


    But for my bad luck, one of the students who was undergoing the same torture died.


    As a result, a fierce campaign spread throughout the kingdom. Everyone is afraid. Many doctors and parents have been imprisoned.


    There are voices encouraging children to go to the nearest government hospital to save their lives.


    And there are opposing voices based on filial piety and that they did this only for your future.


    But it seems that the latter voice was falling on deaf ears. There are thousands of students who turned themselves in and threw filial piety into the trash.


    As for me, I don''t need to explain to you.


    We''ve become family. Where would I get the courage to take such a big step from beginning to end?


    Can you imagine that I never hated them at all?


    Before the rumours spread, my mother started coming home regularly to prepare my meals, thinking her conscience was bothering her. Even my father started calling to check on me. But after a while, I discovered that my mother and father knew about the government''s intention.


    I could no longer bear the pain of the body on one hand and the psychological pain on the other. And like any person in this age, if you don''t like your real world, resort to your virtual world.


    TV series, movies, novels, anime. I watched everything and anything. With every story, I imagined myself as the hero.


    And like every story, there must be an end. Isn''t that right?


    A day full of snow, but it doesn''t matter to me. I''ve lost the feeling of warmth for a long time.


    My father came from outside the kingdom just to start a fight that causes unbearable noise in the house. My ears have become very sensitive, forcing me to go out in the middle of the night.


    After midnight, the streets are empty and dark, and the houses are full of warmth. As for my house, it''s not the first time they fight. The reason doesn''t matter.


    I think in the middle of the discussion, each of them has forgotten the reason for their fight, but they will continue anyway.


    I''ve walked about 15 minutes. I''ve fallen 10 times. I''ve coughed blood 5 times. It''s become one of my favorite hobbies.


    And just as I was about to make the decision to return, I collided with something solid and fell on my buttocks, causing a series of whimpers and screams to burst from my mouth.


    "What''s all this screaming? I haven''t done anything yet. Haha."


    "This is a loser in his thirties screaming like a girl who just lost her virginity. Haha."


    I turned around. To find a group of laughs, fear overcomes me trying to suppress my groaning and open my eyes to find four men as tall as a pole surrounding me, directing their gazes towards me.


    "I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to bump into you. I''m sorry, I''m sorry."


    Oh, I can''t believe myself.


    Even in these moments, the first thing that comes to my mind is apologizing without even analyzing my situation to know who''s at fault here.


    Not to mention their appearances that suggest they''re not the type to back down with an apology.


    "You miserable, empty your pockets so I can think whether I''ll let you go or not."


    "No, I didn''t bring anything with me."


    Before I finished my words, I saw their looks change, which stimulated my instinct to make a suggestion.


    "But my house is close by. If you let me go, I promise I''ll give you a large amount of money."


    "Hahahaha."


    Another group of laughter surrounds me, making me turn right and left confused.


    "You''re really a pig. Did you tell us you''re rich and willing to cooperate with us to blackmail your parents?"


    I hadn''t thought this deeply before. And while finding something to justify my position, I find myself falling to the ground and feeling a fire under my head with the sound of something colliding with something.


    "Boom"


    I was standing on my feet moments ago, then I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I found myself stretched out on the ground, drowning in my blood, not comprehending what had happened.


    "Why are you cutting our fun?"


    "Stop playing. We don''t have time. Quickly."


    This was the last thing I heard. After that, whistling, then silence. And finally, the tape ended to return the feeling of pain.


    This is really a contradictory feeling.


    I feel the fire on my face and the tips of my fingers with the coldness of the ground full of my warm blood. It''s strange.


    When I think about it, I find, for the first time, a common denominator between me and the heroes of novels.


    Isn''t this the moment when the hero screams, pleading for one last chance to go back in time to correct his mistakes or asking to go to another world to start from scratch with his experience so as not to fall into the mistakes of the past?


    I''ve always been infatuated with this idea, along with gaining a superpower. Gathering women left and right. Every man''s dream in the world.


    except for the effeminate ones.


    But let''s be realistic. Do you think this is possible? And I''m not talking about the possibility of getting a chance. I''m talking about the possibility of a failure becoming successful.


    Your circumstances may have changed, but the most important thing beyond circumstances hasn''t changed. Yes, I''m talking about your personality. For example, me.


    I am who I am. I haven''t changed.


    How will knowing the future benefit me when I don''t have the courage to make decisions?


    And another thing, do you remember what you ate yesterday? What about last week? How will you remember what happened in the past, and assuming you do, your interaction with the things you know will change them, making knowledge of the past useless.


    With your failure the first time, what guarantees you won''t fail the second time?


    You''ll say another world with magical powers and creatures.


    Think about it. Isn''t there someone like Null the genius and a failure like me in that world and in any world?


    I didn''t succeed in differential equations. Will I succeed in magic circles? Don''t make me laugh.


    Hohoho.


    Finally, the pain stops. The flame of my life is extinguishing. With these thoughts, I made my decision and for the first time, I''m determined.


    I don''t want a second chance.


    I''ve had enough with the first one, and I don''t want to go to another world.


    There''s no guarantee what if I reincarnate as a slime or a spider or even a goblin.


    This body full of fat is enough for me.


    And for the last time, what have we learned? Nothing happens as I want.


    I forgot to introduce myself. Didn''t I?


    I''m Emiric.


    An ignorant boy with a weak personality whose life ends without achieving anything noteworthy finds himself in the body of a strange person of obscene wealth and influence.


    Or at least that''s what I thought.


    **********


    Emiric: Are you ready for the greatest story ever?


    Author: Stop using big words.


    Emiric: Man, be a little confident in yourself


    Author: Look who''s talking, anyway Like it? give me some review£¡


    Emiric: Of course they liked it, why do you ask stupid questions

 chapter 2: New body, new life, but what about the world?

    How much time has passed?


    Where am I?


    Am I dead or still alive?


    I had no answers to any of the questions filling my head. All I knew was that the cold, hard ground had turned into something warm and comfortable.


    If I had to guess, I''d say it was a bed, but how was I rescued?


    I can tell I''m in a hospital because of the tube connected to my hand. I''ll never forget this feeling I experienced when I used to attend examination sessions.


    My body doesn''t respond to any of my commands except for my eyelids, but I find it difficult to open them. With my repeated failed attempts, I hear the sound of pages turning and a fragrant scent invades my nose.


    It seems there''s someone sitting on my left reading a book.


    It must be a nurse. Minions of the devil! Who''s the fool who called them merciful angels? They showed no mercy when they were sucking my blood over and over again. They turned me into a lifeless corpse.


    Wait, I can smell! I can smell again. Have I been subjected to a factory reset?


    My eyelids were affected by my repeated attempts, becoming lighter to the point where I was finally able to open them. The darkness fades and light succeeds in invading my vision, but the light was more intense than needed.


    From pitch darkness to bright light, the result is the same: I can''t see anything.


    "Finally awake"


    The sound of a waterfall falling on a rock? No, that''s the wrong analogy.


    Let''s say like the chirping of birds on autumn and spring days. No, no, what am I saying? Let me try again.


    A voice that makes birds ashamed of their monotonous performance. Yes, that''s better.


    From a bright light gradually fading to blurry objects that become clearer over time, the girl''s face appears to me.


    Wow, how do I describe this? Let me try.


    The sun sets early, for what use is it when her face lights up the world? Damn, I''m truly awesome.


    She really is an angel. I take back my words. Sorry, man, for calling you a fool.


    "I''ll call the doctor"


    As the angel approaches to leave the room, her type of clothing becomes clear to me, and I realize she''s not a nurse as I thought.


    Man, I don''t take back my words. You''re still a fool.


    The sound of the door closing wakes me from my silly thoughts and makes me focus on my current situation.


    I can open my mouth a little, but my tongue is heavier than rocks, making what comes out of my mouth mere mumbles.


    I stayed in this state for about half an hour. Where could this doctor be? Is he in another dimension?


    Speaking of another dimension, it''s impossible for me to be sent to another world.


    I feel that my body is different and I''ve never seen that angel before.


    This reminds me of the clich¨¦s of the novels I used to read. The hero wakes up to find a woman with skin like glowing pearl and golden hair falling like a waterfall on the edges of her shoulders.


    I always thought this kind of description was exaggerated, but honestly, I can''t find a more accurate description for her.


    A group of men wearing black suits burst in on me, surrounding the bed I was lying on, and before I can comprehend what''s happening, they start shouting.


    "My bones beg to be broken, and my flesh longs to be torn. There is no life after my failure, and no peace after my death. Please, sir, punish me for my incompetence."


    Loud voices but coordinated as if it were a show they had stayed up all night to coordinate, but their effort was in vain. I''m in no condition to comprehend any of their nonsense.


    "What do you think you''re doing?"


    From outside the room, a man''s voice bursts through the group, and they disperse to reveal an old man in his fifties.


    He approaches my side, bows his head to me, then turns to the group with a dark face that makes each of them tremble, lowering their heads and closing their mouths, holding their breath.


    Despite the crowded room, no sound is heard, as if it were empty.


    "I will deal with you at the appropriate time. Now, all of you return to your positions, and anyone who moves again without permission, I will send to the brothels to witness his wife serving customers there."


    Contrary to what you''d expect to be the reaction of men like them to such a threat:


    "Understood and will be executed"


    Before leaving, a man from the group steps forward, bows his head just like the old man, then after 3 steps back, turns to leave the room.


    The group follows the same approach, making me feel like some kind of king. The room returns to its normal state in a matter of seconds.


    In the previous world, the royal family didn''t follow this approach when leaving, fearing public criticism and conflict with official protocols.


    Who exactly is the owner of this body?


    "Finally a doctor could honor us with his presence. I hope we haven''t disturbed your rest"


    The old man''s expression is still dark, even darker after the doctor''s appearance.


    With quick steps, he begins examining me while apologizing over and over again, with visible sweat drops on his forehead from nervousness and fear.


    "Fortunately, there are no complications. He''s still under the influence of anesthesia, so he can''t move or speak. He needs more rest. Don''t let anyone enter his room for the next 24 hours"


    After the doctor leaves, the old man approaches to whisper in my ear:


    "Report to Sir, as you ordered. No one knew about the operation, and the meeting will be postponed to next week due to the assassination attempt. Let the Sir rest, I will deal with the doctor"


    As soon as he finishes speaking, he bows his head with 3 steps back to withdraw, leaving the door closed.


    I wracked my brain as much as possible to gain some understanding of the situation I''m in, but all I gained was a set of mental pain that puts me into a deep slumber.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    I woke up from sleep feeling extremely confused.


    I didn''t know what time it was, and all I knew was that I had been in this state for a day or two.


    I would wake up for minutes, sometimes for seconds, then go back to sleep again.


    But this time, my body was responding to my commands.


    I raised my hand, amazed by its firmness, but this simple movement caused pain in all my joints.


    I couldn''t bear lying on the bed anymore, so I sat on its edge, ignoring the pain.


    I removed all the wires connected to me, which made the machines emit an annoying beep that caused a headache.


    With an uncoordinated movement, I extended my arm and turned off the switches causing the beeping, stopping my headache only for my body ache to start due to my random movements.


    "Aaaargh"


    I took a few breaths before deciding to stand up with the help of the bed edges.


    This pain was nothing compared to what I''d been through in the past four years.


    The problem is that this body has a height and weight I''m not used to yet.


    With each step I took, the pain increased, and as it increased, my determination to reach the bathroom grew.


    If what I had in mind came true, I couldn''t imagine the future. All kinds of scenarios came to my mind. Had the dreams of millions of readers come true with me?


    When I reached the door, I pushed it with all my strength without caring about the pain, and after that, I leaned my weight on the sink, took two deep breaths, then slowly raised my head to see my face in the mirror.


    My hair is black as night, hanging on my shoulders in a medium length, neither long nor short. My eyebrows are sharp and curved like a knife, and my eyes are black and full of life. Damn, I''m really handsome! I took off the shirt I was wearing, and I couldn''t suppress a laugh of amazement.


    My muscles are toned, my arms are huge, and my shoulders and chest are solid.


    Most importantly, the dream of millions, I have prominent abdominal muscles, a "6-pack"!


    It seems that the owner of this body got this body through great effort, as it''s covered with many scars and burn marks. My God, there are even traces of gunshots. No doubt I''m a gangster.


    Despite my admiration and happiness with my new body, fear overtook me.


    I''m just an otaku, and now I''ve become a gang leader. How will I handle the situation if someone discovers that I''m not the real leader? What will their reaction be?


    Why don''t I have the memories of the previous body owner? All the heroes in novels were able to persevere thanks to their memories, or at least were able to avoid interaction with the outside world. Even after getting this amazing opportunity, I''m still surrounded by fear and a sense of helplessness.


    Also, where is my system? Where is my cheat tool? Don''t tell me he doesn''t have one! Who is the son of a bitch writing this story?


    (Author: I''ll show you who the son of a bitch is, just wait.)


    A sound from outside my room caught my attention.


    With more focus, it became clear to me that it was some kind of news broadcast. It seemed like an opportunity to know what kind of world I had transferred to.


    The pain began to fade with each step I took, and I became more stable and balanced.


    I opened the door and left the room to face pitch darkness, where my vision was barely limited to something thanks to the dim lights emitting from computer and medical devices.


    As I was heading towards the source of the sound, I noticed the absence of any patients, and there wasn''t even a trace of nurses.


    I tried to explain this to myself because of the late hour.


    I found a medium-sized screen hanging on the wall, and in front of it a group of chairs indicating a waiting area.


    I sat on one of these chairs, and directed all my focus towards the news bulletin, hoping to learn something that would save me from this predicament.


    The news is presented by a woman in her late thirties, and her features are not unfamiliar to me. I feel like I''ve seen her before.


    "The government and security forces have witnessed a series of successive failures in recent years, leading to gangs controlling several sensitive sectors in the state. What provokes public resentment is the government''s justification for its positions, as summarized by the word of the head of the investigation office as follows"


    The screen switches from the studio to a press conference, where an old man wearing an official uniform stands on the podium, with a group of microphones in front of him.


    During his speech, his face is hit by camera lights as a series of photos are taken by journalists.


    "Legally, we have no choice but to sit and watch."


    He was interrupted by one of the journalists after finishing his sentence:


    "How do you expect us to watch while the economy deteriorates because of a group of highway robbers?"


    The old man answers in a voice emanating impatience:


    "The highway robbers you''re talking about have been released after serving their sentence and none of the allegations against them have been proven"


    "Really? Then where did they get the money to invest in shares of the most important national companies?"


    "The money was received from an investor after investigating his background, we found nothing suspicious. And he was asked why he gives money to those convicted of serious crimes, he answered: ''I like to give people a second chance.''"


    "Second chance my ass! Why doesn''t he give me a chance with his mother?"


    After that, a series of insults spread before the scene switched to the presenter saying:


    "What''s the importance of law when your state is in danger? We wait, wait for what? Collapse? After collapse there''s chaos, enemies on the borders are lurking. Danger inside and outside."


    She''s very direct and bold to publicly demand the government to ignore the laws.


    "I can hear voices saying how can you demand the government to bypass laws? So let me tell you a short story that will be familiar to you"


    Is she a fortune teller or what? How did she hear me now?


    "Five years ago, you remember the state''s efforts in eliminating the group of fraudsters who call themselves doctors, and were the cause of death for many children under the slogan ''For Better Focus''."


    As soon as I heard the words "For Better Focus", my eyes widened and my heart rate increased, as if what I heard wasn''t enough.


    "The approach taken by the government, wasn''t it against the law?


    Weren''t parents, doctors, and nurses executed?


    Didn''t the state seize all their properties? Didn''t we celebrate then and praise them?


    All I want the people to know is this: the life of our children is like the life of our economy.


    We must be intolerant. If the government doesn''t do something, then the people must.


    This was Suzy Looney with you, until another meeting, long live the Nameless Kingdom ."


    I stood up from the seat, taking a random direction, not caring where my steps would take me.


    If my steps before were like a zombie''s, now they''re more like a drunk person''s.


    All the way I''m trying to digest what I heard, now I didn''t go to another world, it''s the same world but in the future.


    Since I''m in this body, it means I died, which means I was autopsied. And through the advanced technology of the Nameless Kingdom, my identity and my parents'' identity will be known.


    And through what the presenter just said about executing parents, this means one thing: my parents have died.


    I don''t know why, but drops are falling on my cheek, quickly and without thinking I raised my arm to wipe what''s falling from my eyes, but the water continues to fall.


    Damn, why am I crying for them? They are the cause of my suffering and torment, they brought this upon themselves.


    I don''t care, I don''t care about them.


    Damn you, stop crying!


    As if my eyes finally obey my orders and stop crying.


    In the midst of my turbulent emotions, I feel warm water on my bare feet.


    Because of my inability to see during the pitch darkness, I thought it was due to heavy crying. I realize that I''m not a cartoon shedding a fountain of tears.


    Suddenly, my leg hit something solid, and I fell on my face, letting out a groan from my mouth:


    "Aaah"


    I tried to stand up, leaning on something beside me. Because of its strange texture, I turned to see what it was, and discovered it was an arm.


    Without thinking much, I threw it away from me with a scream, and got up from the ground soaked in warm water. When I raised my hand to my face, I finally realized that it was blood.


    It took seconds for me to comprehend my surroundings, which was full of torn organs and blood scattered everywhere.


    I couldn''t recognize the owner of the corpse at first, until I saw the head among them with terrifying features and lifeless eyes staring at me as if I was the one who killed him.


    The doctor who treated me before.


    Nothing came to my mind except one word the old man said before: "assassination attempt".


    There''s a killer in the hospital who wants to kill me.


    ***********


    Author: So far, what do you think of the story?


    Emiric: Are you crazy? Not even a chapter has passed and you send an assassin to kill me


    Author: If there are any suggestions please leave a comment.


    Emiric: Do you ignore me?


    Author: I know I''m asking a lot, but please leave a review, thank you.


    Emiric: Hey, I''m talking to you, son OF...

 chapter 3: Now say my name

    My breath is short, and my heartbeat is irregular like war drums.


    I''m running frantically, like I''ve never run before in my life.


    My new body betrays me, causing me to stumble and fall repeatedly.


    But fear has always been a powerful motivator; despite my cowardice and weakness, I resume running no matter how many times I fall.


    The pain no longer matters; all I feel are my heartbeats threatening to burst out of my chest.


    Whenever I see a room, I eagerly open it, hoping to find one of the men in black suits. But the hospital was deserted, its terrifying silence intensifying the eeriness of the situation.


    With each step, my breath becomes more labored, and my muscles begin to rebel against my commands.


    My mind screams, searching for an exit, until the thought of the alarm bell occurs to me. I turn sharply, left and right, my eyes catching a red box hanging on the wall.


    I rush with all the strength I have left, reaching the box in a matter of seconds.


    Without thinking, I punch the glass with all my might.


    The glass breaks under my blow, and my punch continues through to press the red button. Suddenly, alarm sirens fill the place, their sound deafening, but carrying a glimmer of hope for me.


    I hear footsteps running in my direction. They exhaust me more and more until finally, my strength fails, and I collapse to the ground, leaning my back against the wall behind me.


    Seconds later, the old man appears with a group of men behind him, shouting:


    "Sir"


    "Sir"


    "Sir"


    The old man helps me stand and places me on a nearby chair, asking:


    "Sir, what happened?"


    While catching my breath, I was thinking about what I should say.


    After all, I''m a gangster; if I show weakness, they''ll suspect me. After recalling all the narratives I knew, I made a decision.


    I raised my head, took a deep breath, repeating in my mind that I''m their boss and whatever I say, they won''t do anything to me.


    With these thoughts, I pressed on my vocal cords.


    I looked at them with the sternest and darkest look I know I can muster:


    "Has your loyalty wavered, making your legs too heavy to move?"


    Their faces began to pale slightly, giving me a signal to continue:


    "If your first failure was justified, what about now?"


    I remember one of the old man''s words when he said "assassination attempts." My mind and tongue work simultaneously; even I no longer realize what I''m saying. My logic might have gaps, but I was playing on something.


    I''m the boss, even though I don''t know the specifics and generalities of the situation, but I''m betting on the natural relationship between a master and his subordinates, which is:


    I yell at you, and you can''t do anything about it.


    "What are you looking at, you bunch of pigs? Go, and don''t show me your faces before you catch or kill the assassin who killed the doctor."


    As soon as the killer is mentioned, anger and contempt appear on their faces. A shout echoes through the place, giving me chills, coming from their mouths:


    "Understood and will be executed"


    In the blink of an eye, the group that was in front of me disappeared, leaving behind the sounds of their footsteps and shouts:


    "You go upstairs, and I''ll search downstairs"


    "There are footprints, someone come with me"


    I cast a glance at the old man to find an expression of questioning and confusion on his features, making me in turn question myself,


    Is there a flaw in my words? Has he discovered something? To try to stop the old man''s train of thought, I give him an order


    "Help me go to my room"


    I lie down on the bed, even though I''m tired of lying on it, but after the pressure on my body all this time, it has become my only refuge for rest.


    "Sir, forgive my weak comprehension, but no matter how hard I try to understand the reasons, I cannot fathom your intentions"


    He bows his head with a voice full of confusion, making me wonder what he means by his words.


    I''m confused, you''re confused, everyone''s confused.


    What do I do now? I need to come up with something that makes him explain things to me without discovering me.


    "What confuses you?"


    Closing my eyes, pretending to be indifferent to give him a kind of mystery to help me influence him.


    "In response to sir, why did you say there''s a killer in the hospital?"


    Isn''t there one?, the word what to say wraps around in my head. I can''t think of a better approach than the skeleton approach:


    "What do you think?"


    I opened one eye slightly to try to read his features so I can deduce what he''s thinking.


    Surprise, I find him deep in thought. Why is he taking all this time?


    Finally, after a long wait, the old man opens his mouth while bowing his head:


    "The sir is indeed a deep thinker. I still have much to learn"


    Damn you, you''re steps away from the grave. What time do you have to learn? Plus, what kind of ass-licking is this?


    Wait, it''s a good feeling. I mean, ass-licking not in the literal sense, you know what I mean.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    (Author: You''re only making the situation worse with your explanation)


    But this is not what I want. Let''s try this then:


    ¡°Listen to me, what have you deduced, so that I can know if there are minds around me or just empty caves?¡±


    Damn, I''m getting better with time, aren''t I?


    without delay, he starts narrating enthusiastically as if he''s a child finding an opportunity to prove himself to his father.


    "In response to you, sir, if you can deceive those close to you, you can deceive the world. Only through the second attempt can you put momentum on the first attempt to make it seem more realistic. Adding to that the feeling of failure twice in a row will make the efficiency of the subordinates higher and their desire to prove themselves. I can''t count how many birds you''ve killed with one stone. I''m truly impressed, sir."


    Damn, his words created confusion upon confusion, but why does every time someone opens their mouth, it only increases my confusion?


    "Sir, I request your permission to leave and address the situation."


    I said without care


    "Of course, of course."


    You should know now what one does when leaving: a slight bow of the head, 3 steps backward, and departure.


    But I no longer care about the surroundings, all my attention is focused on his ringing words in my head.


    The assassination attempts were just tricks, why? What about the operation, is it a trick too? No, there''s a mark on the back of my head. So what?


    Ah, my head is going to explode.


    A glimpse of the old man''s words crosses my ears:


    "I''ll deal with the doctor now"


    Holy crap, he killed the doctor? Why?


    It seems to me like an order from me, I mean the body''s owner.


    There''s some kind of plan. If he discovers I''m not boss or even if I pretend to have lost my memory, I don''t know who will exploit the situation.


    While swimming in the sea of my thoughts, time flows faster than my realization to find myself in a deep sleep and I only wake up to hearing someone''s words.


    The voice seemed familiar to me, and how could I forget the sweet but cold voice of the woman I woke up to the first time


    "How long will this charade continue? I can''t stand being here anymore"


    The sweet voice is interrupted by the old man''s voice.


    "I''m sorry, madam, but I have no knowledge. Please discuss the situation with the sir when he wakes up"


    Damn, why do you pollute my hearing after purifying it? Just be quiet.


    "Your master has been in this state for five days. Isn''t there a meeting to be held in two days?"


    "In response to madam, yes"


    "What will the meeting be about?"


    "Again, I have no knowledge, madam. Please speak to the sir when he wakes up"


    "Just leave. Your presence is as good as your absence anyway"


    "I''m sorry to disappoint you, madam"


    I didn''t gain anything.


    One thing remains confirmed to me is that the girl wasn''t one of his subordinates, and from the old man''s behavior, it seems she has a special relationship with the body''s owner.


    She might be his sister; I rule out that she''s his mother due to her young age.


    I just hope she''s not his wife.


    The most dangerous thing is a woman''s instinct; she has the ability to sense extremely high changes.


    It''s easy to deceive his subordinates at least for a certain period that enables you to know a lot of information and adapt, but a woman can expose you in seconds.


    With these thoughts, I decide not to wake up now because I don''t know how to address her.


    After about 3 hours of the torture of pretending to sleep, she finally leaves the room for me to open my eyes. How long will I keep avoiding her?


    I don''t know how or why, but I can feel the presence of a group of men at the door of the room, bringing me an idea that might be the reason for my survival.


    "One of you move here immediately"


    Upon compliance with my orders, the door opens for the group to enter, approaching the bed forming a line, and with one approach, they bow their heads.


    "Sir, any orders to execute?"


    I won''t lie, after the humiliation and indignity I lived in my previous life, seeing this scene makes me excited.


    I get up from the bed, my body is now obeying my commands better as I get used to my new weight and height.


    The feeling of power in every step, it''s really amazing.


    I stand in front of them with a straight back, putting an angry look on my face. Although I don''t know how the body''s owner speaks, based on the events that happened in the past few days, any anomaly that can be noticed can be justified.


    I move along the line from right to left and repeat once again from left to right to create an atmosphere of terror in themselves.


    I can''t explain how awesome this moment is for any otaku, the moment when everything they read or saw in movies or series is implemented.


    With all precautions in my head, I carefully choose each question that should be answered. They will answer my questions indirectly.


    "Where is your direct superior now?"


    "In response to sir, Mr. Hank is having some phone conversations. I don''t know the details, but it seems to me that it''s related to the meeting that will be held in a day"


    Finally, the old man''s name is Hank. Not bad, what should I ask again?


    "Now, let one of you start with a detailed account of the mistakes you made."


    They move their eyes to their companions, hoping to know what to say and what not to say.


    It''s one of the strict systems that seniors impose on newcomers. It can result in either a strong relationship between individuals, so you don''t hear any snitching, or it can be a disaster leading to the collapse of organizations.


    And to break this bond, I pointed to one of them randomly and ordered him:


    "You, step forward and start talking."


    The scapegoat on whom my finger fell shuddered with fear, frozen in place.


    Sorry, my friend, I know how you feel. That demon from hell has often treated me the same way, but I have to do what I have to do to survive.


    "Are you deaf or just don''t want to obey my order?"


    The words that came out of my mouth made the last drop of hesitation evaporate, and without realizing it, he found himself taking a step to start talking without pauses


    "According to the instructions we had, it would be a day like any other day, appointments spread throughout the day. We would move from place to place for your routine work, sir. But just minutes before the day started, we were informed that all appointments were canceled and that today would be a day off for us. After that, while spending time with our families, we received news of your presence in the hospital. That''s all we know, sir."


    As soon as he finished his justifications, everyone started shouting that annoying speech again


    "My bones beg to be broken, and my flesh longs to be torn. There is no life after my failure, and no peace after my death. Please, sir, punish me for my incompetence."


    After that, whenever I asked them about something, they answer with one answer


    "Sorry sir, we don''t know anything about this"


    Then they kept repeating that speech over and over as if they were intentionally provoking me


    "Stop this barking immediately!"


    Finally, there''s silence that allows my mind to work acceptably.


    It occurs to me that a man in middle age, or I should say in his late years, describe him as you wish.


    He wears glasses touching his nose, wearing his white underwear, brown desert boots, and his iconic long green shirt and his iconic word.


    I approach one of them with his head bowed, making it difficult for me to see his eyes


    "Look at me"


    He raises his head for our eyes to meet. He looks terrified. They really are excessively terrified of the owner of this body.


    What exactly was he doing to them? I put everything aside, staring into his eyes trying to mimic the spark coming out of his eyes to scare him as much as possible. His body starts to tremble. It seems I succeeded.


    "Who am I? Do I look like a joke to you?"


    He replies with a voice coming out of his mouth full of vibration


    "How dare I..."


    I interrupt him with a voice that sends chills down the spine


    "Now say my name"


    I noticed confusion on his features and to prevent him from thinking, I repeat the question more strongly


    "Now say my name"


    And in seconds, he drops the bomb from his mouth


    "Emiric Stone, head of the Stone family"


    "You''re goddamn right, and... what?"


    "........."


    Why do I have the same name I had in my previous life?


    **************


    Author : Have some idea about my story? Comment on it and let me know.


    Emiric : Yes, I have something here. Why don''t you try to be more creative? I mean, you are so lazy that you made the protagonist reincarnated in another body, without bothering to give him another name. Are you serious?


    Author : Mind your business


    Emiric : It''s my business, you parasite

 Chapter 4: A Name, a Fate, and a Diary

    While browsing the internet, I used to borrow fake names, not something I invented myself.


    In fact, one of the strongest features of the virtual world has always been the ability to say and do anything without consequences for your actions.


    Each person has his own reasons for using a pseudonym, and these reasons differ from one person to another.


    Some just want to read things that would embarrass them if anyone knew.


    Some love a character, whether fictional or real, and take their name. Why not?


    And some do it as a joke or for creativity. There are some names that make you die laughing or make your mind work.


    But why do I do it? It goes back to the meaning of the name "Emiric."


    No, the meaning of my name is great.


    To be fair, it''s one of the greatest names you could have.


    So where''s the problem? The problem lies in its greatness.


    The name "Emeric" is used in many cultures as a personal name and is considered rare in some places, making it distinctive and unique. The name is associated with strength and nobility and has been carried by well-known historical and legendary figures.


    I don''t think I need to explain more than that.


    I mean, why give a child this kind of name that might represent the opposite of their abilities, and from my name, you can infer all the harassment and mockery I''ve been subjected to.


    I mean, why, among all the names I could have in my new life, why this name? Just, why?


    After a little thought, it was always kind of a clich¨¦ to be reincarnated with the same name, and one way or another, they explain that at the end of the story.


    Wait, don''t say there''s an entity manipulating me in secret, and after I reach a certain power, it will turn me into fodder.


    Wait, is it possible that I''m in some kind of novel and there''s an author controlling my fate?


    (Author: Shit)


    I quickly come to my senses. What am I saying? There''s not even a superpower, let alone that I still exist in the same world.


    (Author: Sigh, that was close)


    If I think about it more carefully, it''s no longer a problem.


    I can even say the name has become appropriate with my position in society, but it''s hard to accept because I grew up hating the name "Emiric."


    The sound of car horns wakes me from my thoughts, but I''m still in the same state with my eyes closed since I got in the car.


    Finally, I left the abandoned hospital, and yes, it was mine.


    Yes, yes, I own a hospital, what an irony of fate! The place where I was tortured the most, I now own, and I''m not talking about hospitals in general, no, it''s the same hospital where I used to have check-ups in my previous life.


    It''s fate when it sticks its tongue out at you or its middle finger, wherever it is.


    As for the reason for closing my eyes, that''s due to the girl sitting next to me.


    I still don''t know her name or her position. I''ve stolen glances at her repeatedly, hoping to notice something, but nothing.


    There''s no ring on her finger indicating she''s unmarried, but that''s not a condition, there are many married people who don''t like wearing it.


    What adds to my confusion is that she doesn''t address me at all.


    This is good in that the less contact with her, the higher the chances of not being discovered, but who is she?


    "Sir, we''re about to arrive. Everyone has been notified of the meeting time."


    The girl and I are in the back, while in the front, Hank sits next to the driver with blue eyes and thick hair.


    He reminds me of characters who are in isolation until it''s later revealed that he''s a mentally disturbed serial killer.


    As if that''s not enough, I heard Hank address him as Dexter, no comment.


    By the way, Hank also has blue eyes.


    Two black cars, one in front and one behind us, are escorting us all the way, filled with armed men about 30 people in total.


    It makes me wonder exactly what position I hold, especially since the nameless kingdom doesn''t allow carrying weapons except for high-level officials.


    But it''s clear that I''m not at that level, to what extent has the country''s policy changed over the past five years?


    "When exactly is the meeting time?"


    As soon as I ask the question, my heart starts racing for the millionth time.


    "In response to sir, two hours at most once we arrive."


    My heart doesn''t calm down until Hank answers me without any problems.


    How long will I remain in this state where as soon as I ask a question, my heart starts pounding and doesn''t stop until I make sure I haven''t made a mistake in something? Without talking about the meeting, what will be the topic of discussion? What will they say and how will I respond? Ah, I''m a dead man for sure.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    My only hope is my room, there must be some information there, right?


    While reciting my prayers, the car stops announcing my arrival. I finally open my eyes to see a sight that takes my breath away. Damn, is this my house?


    The house no, it''s a palace.


    A palace with gardens surrounding it from all directions. It reminds me of that castle that was a school for teenagers with special abilities.


    Yes yes, the castle that exploded in every movie once. Wait, a moment, it won''t explode, right?


    "Sir."


    I turn to the voice to find that Dexter has opened the door for me, waiting for me to exit. Damn, I need to stop thinking about useless things.


    I get out of the car with all elegance and flexibility.


    My control over the new body has improved, and to be more honest, I''ve really come to like it. Wearing a tight black suit to show off my lethal muscles, how awesome I look.


    As soon as I reach the huge door decorated with golden ornaments, it opens to reveal a long, wide corridor. On its edges stand servants, both male and female.


    Forget the males, as soon as my eyes fall on the females wearing black and white maid uniforms, strange desires form deep within me, which are quickly extinguished by their shouts:


    "Welcome back, sir!"


    I advance with steady steps, Hank on my right and the beautiful girl on my left. With every step I take, I feel my arrogance and self-confidence growing.


    At the end of the corridor stands a maid with blue eyes. I look at her as I look at the sea when it is still.


    Her hair is as black as the night tied in a ponytail. As for the curves of the body, all I''ll say is ¡°ah¡±, I don''t want someone to start playing with their little friend.


    As soon as I reach her, she bows fully apologizing:


    "Forgive me, sir, for not fighting alongside you. Forgive me, sir, for not facing danger with you. Please punish me, but do not exempt me from my meals."


    She stands to look into my eyes.


    I''m surprised by her attitude.


    Since I woke up, I''ve seen fear and awe in the looks and trembling bodies of all servants and guards except for only three who gave me a different impression.


    The first is Hank. Over time, I knew he was the right-hand man, and it''s clear that the body''s owner trusts him, so he informed him about the fake assassination plan.


    The second is the girl. I''ve never seen someone as cold as her, and her face doesn''t give any expression of emotion, which makes me confused about how to deal with her.


    And the third is this maid. I can touch a kind of emotion in her features and sincerity in her voice, unlike the fear I see in the expressions of other subordinates.


    Before I can utter anything, the words I''ve started to get tired of hearing come:


    "My bones beg to be broken, and my flesh longs to be torn. There is no life after my failure, and no peace after my death. Please, sir, punish me for my incompetence."


    Amidst all this noise, the beautiful girl passes by me with her indifferent expression, climbing the stairs.


    I had the idea of following her but changed my mind at the last moment. It''s better to avoid her for now.


    Because of their screaming, I start to get a headache again. Wait, it seems that this body can''t handle noise for some reason.


    "If you don''t shut up now, I''ll make you regret every word you said."


    The voice that emanated from me was sharp as a sword, piercing the air and cutting it.


    Their movements stopped suddenly, and their eyes stiffened, while drops of their saliva accumulated on their lips.


    The silence of the place rose as if cutting off their breath, enveloping the atmosphere with an aura of terrible calm.


    Damn, I lost my temper again. I need to work on controlling my nerves.


    In my attempt to change the subject, I ask Hank about anything that comes to mind.


    "Hank, is everything ready?"


    "Yes, sir."


    "Good, good."


    I put my eyes on the blue eyes of the maid thinking what next, what should I do? As if she felt my struggle.


    "Sir, what do you think about preparing the bath while you rest in your room?"


    Good good, but I don''t know where the room is, and if I ask, I''ll be exposed. Okay, let''s try this.


    "Good, but first I want to talk to you privately. Lead the way."


    Complying with my order, she moves without asking any questions.


    I follow her until I reach the door of the room. She turns towards me and bows, waiting for the subject I want her for.


    I said what came to my mind while walking with her, finally not caring about anything anymore:


    "I want the water to be warm."


    "......"


    He may be one of those who brags about bathing in cold water, thinking that it strengthens him. What happens to them? Do they think they are penguins?


    Ignoring her expression, I open the door and enter the room.


    If I said something wrong, I''ll fix it after knowing everything from the room.


    There must be information in the room, right?


    I''m in the room at last. It wasn''t as I really thought. I thought it would be luxurious, but on the contrary, it was simple, I can even say it was simpler than my room in my previous life.


    It''s indeed a strange contrast when we look at the palace from the outside compared to the inside.


    The corridors I walked through and the antique furniture are undoubtedly works of art. I can say with confidence that if a member of the royal family visited, they might think I have aspirations to become a king.


    I sweep the room with my gaze to notice a miniature picture on the desk.


    In the picture, the body''s owner appears sitting on the chair with the girl wearing a wedding dress next to him, and a smiling woman stands in the back.


    So she was really my wife, but who is this woman now? Why every time I learn someone''s identity, someone else comes who needs me to discover them.


    I hold the picture and strip it of its special frame to discover writing on the back of the picture.


    Emiric and Ivana. Ivana isn''t a bad name. There''s also a date. Wait, let me calculate.


    I put the picture aside and start counting with my fingers. What, I''m not good at math.


    We got married about 5 months before the assassination attempt. This is very close. It''s impossible for feelings of love to suddenly turn into this coldness between us.


    To resume the search, I opened the wardrobe.


    All the clothes are suits of every color and shape.


    There''s no transparent shirt or short-sleeved one, and no shorts either. It gives the impression that he deliberately avoids showing any signs of fighting or bruises on his body, which confuses me.


    Isn''t it common for gangs to show their strength to gain respect? Why does he hide it?


    After searching here and there, this is all I found. It''s not enough, there must be something else.


    I stand in the middle of the room contemplating the surroundings and ask myself, something is wrong.


    My eyes fall on the shelves.


    At the level of the shelves, there are books.


    If we examine the books closely, we''ll find that they are all diverse in terms of color and style, except for a book with its shape and somber color that attracts attention as if it''s saying pick me up.


    I heard its call, so I extended my hand to pick it up and opened it, surprised by the first word written in it.


    Diary.


    ******


    Emiric : Oh man, what do we learn from this chapter? That we must always believe the first feeling that comes to us. I felt that there was an author then.


    Author : Your comment is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!


    Emiric : I have one here, so come in front of me and I will give it to you.


    Author : No thank you


    Emiric : pussy

 chapter 5: that was too quick

    Alright, I started writing this Diary because of my sister''s insistence, so I feel a bit embarrassed.


    Because, who writes about their own life? It seems like a kind of narcissism to me, and I''m not narcissistic.


    My sister convinced me with the argument that it might be published someday to benefit young people who waste their time playing all day.


    Honestly, I don''t see myself in a position to judge them.


    Who knows, if I had grown up in an environment like theirs with all the distractions, I''d probably be just like them.


    Anyway, let me introduce myself. I''m Emiric Stone, a businessman.


    I own several investments from real estate to clubs, and much more.


    I may sound like a braggart, but it''s really hard for me to keep track of all my activities, so I assign and give money to people to invest on their own.


    Through it, I give opportunities to people and move the country''s economy forward. I can''t describe the feeling I get when I make someone happy.


    Okay, let''s stop the rambling and start with who I am and where I''m from.


    I''m Emiric Stone. Date of birth: I don''t know.


    I''m being honest with you. There''s a date on official papers, but no one knows the actual date.


    I doubt even my parents know.


    My sister and I are orphans.


    We were left at the door of an orphanage.


    An orphanage is my first home, the place where we grew up.


    The orphanage was modest in resources, but that''s all anyone who''s been abandoned needs.


    Sorry, there''s no oppression or drama you might expect from a rags-to-riches story.


    My story is ordinary, like any other story, not without difficulties, but nothing that can''t be overcome.


    For those who don''t know, the orphanage rules are simple: you''ll stay in the orphanage until you''re 19 unless you''re adopted.


    The conditions are simple: the visiting uncles who come every week must like you.


    Easy condition, right? These were the words of the Mother, the orphanage director, but she overlooked a simple truth:


    the condition is easy for children with known lineage.


    In the orphanage, there aren''t just orphans who don''t know who their parents are, but also those who know but their parents either died in an accident or died for the country but weren''t cared for by the country for some reason.


    I''ll never forget the looks when the children lined up in rows, eagerly waiting to gain the visitors'' approval, only to feel disappointed when they saw their expressions change upon reading their information on the adoption papers.


    My sister and I, and many of our peers, were repeatedly exposed to this situation.


    I''ll never forget the nights I stayed up comforting my sister, who was in tears every time she was rejected, forgetting our initial fears of being separated. Haha, how ignorant we were.


    This was a summary of the first ten pages of the alleged Diary.


    I say alleged because they seemed unreal to me, as if he wanted to tell me something but at the same time he didn''t want to appear to be telling me something.


    It''s a feeling I''ve acquired after reading many Diarys.


    I can''t be sure if the handwriting is that of the body''s owner or not. Unfortunately, I haven''t tried writing since I woke up; I haven''t found the time for that.


    I cast my eyes on the desk but find neither paper nor pen to write with.


    Oddly enough, this room seemed deliberately designed to mislead me.


    I mean, the desk barely looks like a desk. Where are the signs that tell you he spent nights working on it?


    The books on the shelf don''t look like books whose pages have worn out from frequent opening, or at least where''s the dust that tells you they''ve been abandoned? They look too neat.


    After I stop examining the room devoid of any expression of its owner''s personality, I resume reading the Diary:


    I believe in humanity, especially the human who makes mistakes, and it''s necessary to give them a second chance.


    Otherwise, how do we encourage repentance, right?


    My sister Rose and I opened a charity to help ex-convicts with the purpose of helping them reform themselves and benefit the state.


    Of course, the charity isn''t under our names. You know the kingdom''s strictness and sensitivity to these matters.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    But what can I do? I can''t stand by and watch people in need without doing something, even if it''s dangerous and will put me in fierce conflicts.


    This is also a summary of 10 pages. I didn''t really benefit except for learning his sister''s name, Rose.


    It''s clear to me that she''s the same girl standing smiling in a picture behind the body''s owner and his wife.


    What amazed me is that the writer of this Diary is truly a genius.


    He created harmony in the narrative so that it doesn''t seem like the Diary''s owner was giving information directly and boringly, but was pushing the reader to deduce it themselves without realizing.


    For example, he gave his place of birth, the orphanage, without mentioning its name to give the impression that he doesn''t give information easily.


    But upon closer inspection, it''s impossible not to know the orphanage where the body''s owner grew up in order to verify everything he said is true or false.


    The same applies to the charity. What allows me to know the truth from lies is the fact that I now possess this body.


    He doesn''t talk about the marks on his body.


    This is what I found about his subordinates in the Diary:


    I try as much as possible to make my relationship with subordinates a human relationship first.


    Visiting their families as much as possible is very important to strengthen the relationship with them.


    They must feel safe, and to achieve that, their families must be cared for.


    I try as much as possible to avoid problems between them and me, and repeatedly prevent them from standing and bowing to me.


    My philosophy is that we are equal, for without them I am nothing and without me they are nothing. Only in unity is there strength.


    I was about to shed tears from the performance. An Oscar should be given for this act.


    Human relationships? Haha, tell that to the fear that appears in their eyes when they see me.


    What did he say? Strengthening relationships with them through their families? Why does this sentence seem to have a double meaning to me? Don''t tell me he''s threatening them with their families.


    What killed me was the last sentence: "My philosophy is that we are equal." Don''t make me laugh.


    Never mind that this sentence is genius, it''s not perfect and that''s what''s required.


    The idea that we are equal gives a sense of idealism, and the sentence after it reinforces that: "I am nothing without them." And here the reader will be skeptical because there is no perfect human.


    But don''t worry, the sentence after it breaks it to make it more believable: "and they are nothing without me." This way, it gives an impression of hidden narcissism for more credibility.


    Just like the beginning of the Diary, he mentioned that it''s a kind of narcissism to write about my life and I''m not narcissistic.


    And have you seen anyone call themselves narcissistic? Of course not.


    Does he expect someone to enter his room to search for information? That''s why he created this fake world.


    As I thought deeply about this possibility, it became clear to me why I felt like the diary was speaking to me now.


    This is to lure the intruder to read them and give them the impression he wants.


    But why is there a contradictory impression in the palace? As if he wants those who enter the palace through the door to take an impression of greed and avarice, while those who enter through the window to take an impression of contradiction.


    I really can''t understand anything.


    I remained in this state of confusion for about an hour, flipping through the papers back and forth hoping to find something useful in my predicament, when I remembered.


    There''s no mention of his marriage. Why? Does he want to give an impression of discord between them?


    Don''t tell me her identity is undeclared, and wait... the body owner''s identity is also undeclared. Why doesn''t he reveal his identity if he wants the entire kingdom to believe him?


    Aah!


    A scream I let out from my depths, holding my head trying to control my thoughts.


    I opened the Diary to answer my questions but all I got was more and more questions.


    Wait wait, why should I play his game? I''m now the body''s owner.


    I''m supposed to have information that puts me ahead of the one who supposedly read the Diary.


    Yes yes, I put the fake Diary aside, standing once again in the room contemplating.


    I summon everything I know so far in my memory as I look at the room.


    No matter how smart he is, there must be a loophole in the room. This room is still the place where he can remove his masks and act naturally.


    With these thoughts, I focus intently, and to my surprise, two inconsistent things appear in the room:


    The mirror and the bookcase.


    Unlike the bookcase, I didn''t notice the mirror the first time.


    It was near the door in a way that makes it impossible to avoid before leaving the room.


    What makes it interesting is that it doesn''t seem to belong to the room, it seems isolated from anything in this place.


    And knowing it''s a fake room, it gives me the impression that it''s the only real thing in the place.


    Was the body''s owner obsessed with his appearance? But this doesn''t really give me anything of value.


    As for the bookcase, it was placed on the side of the bed in a way that makes it seem to me as if the place where he put it was forced upon him.


    While I''m thinking about the possible reasons for this, a knock comes on the door with the sweet voice of the maid:


    "Sir..."


    Before I let her finish her sentence, it comes out of my mouth without intention or thought:


    "Come in"


    "...."


    After that comes silence from outside the door that makes me aware of a mistake I''ve just made.


    But all my fear dissipates after the door opens for the blue-eyed maid to enter.


    As soon as she entered the room, her beautiful eyes fell on the room scattered left and right, changing her expressions to surprise that made me realize I made a mistake letting her enter with the room scattered as if I was looking for something.


    But soon comes the idea that it''s my room and she''s just a maid.


    Why should I justify my situation to her?


    I put an expression of coldness and indifference on my face and in a voice devoid of emotions said:


    "Did you come to inform me of something important or to look at my room?"


    I''m getting better, aren''t I?


    Her beautiful eye moves from around the room to fall on me with an expression no one has ever given me before, making me unable to identify it:


    "S-sir, what happened to you?"


    She asked the question from here to start my heart rate rising and sweat drops gathering on my forehead.


    I asked two questions, one I voiced out:


    "What kind of questions is this?"


    And the other I asked myself:


    Has my cover been blown? Why? Where did I go wrong? It didn''t take long until I got the answer to both questions:


    "Sir, have you lost your memory?"


    Shit, no way... that was too quick!

 chapter 6: Your Personal Maid, Azaria

    If someone asked me how many anime I''ve watched,


    Or how many novels I''ve read,


    Or how many movies I''ve seen,


    Or how many TV series I''ve completed,


    My answer would be: If you can count the number of hairs on your head, I''ll be able to give you the number.


    I''m not exaggerating. I had nothing to do but occupy myself with these things to distract myself from physical pain and to forget my personality flaws.


    I''ve read everything: the good and the bad, the great and the ordinary, the creative and the clich¨¦s.


    I haven''t heard of a specific type without trying it, to the point where I ended up following and completing even the worst works.


    I supported every writer whose story I read with comments, money, and of course, time.


    My happiest moments were when an author replied and thanked me for my kind comment.


    I fought many wars in the comments section with the hateful people who left empty comments just to lower the rating of a certain story because it wasn''t their favorite genre, or because the writer was asked to do something they didn''t intend to do in the story.


    (Author: He''s the one who says it''s not me)


    I didn''t have the courage to fight for my rights in real life, but I had the courage to do so for the works of people I''ve never seen and will never see in my life.


    Why? The feeling of living with a character, whether fictional or real, makes no difference to me.


    In fact, I can assert that living with a fictional character is better.


    I lived with them in their most miserable moments and their happiest moments.


    I felt their frustration and hopes, and lived through their ups and downs.


    I got angry when they were angry and happy when they were happy.


    I was the first supporter of every story I read.


    Some of my online discussions took a turn towards insults and profanity, anger and madness, but some took a rational and analytical approach.


    It sometimes got to the point where when discussions happened at the comment level, I would be messaged to come in for defense.


    I discussed all topics: plot, main characters'' motivations, theories, everything.


    It even got to the point where many writers proposed to me.


    Because of my predictions, which were often correct, some might consider it spoiling events.


    I got the title of the dumbest in school, but in the virtual world, specifically in the world of stories and novels, I got the title of the man who knows everything.


    You heard me, the man who knows everything.


    I don''t know why I failed in school, but in terms of predictions and story analysis, I was on another level, there was no competition.


    It was rare for me to fail in a discussion or analysis, and if I did fail, I would stay up nights analyzing my shortcomings.


    I would reread chapters I had already read just to learn a new word or piece of information.


    I learned two things in my previous life: noticing people''s looks, pity, mockery, anger, contempt, fear, all negative emotions, I see them in their eyes at a glance.


    The second thing is my extensive knowledge in the worlds of the stories I''ve read.


    And of course, I read about the mafia and gang wars.


    No matter how the plots change and how the world''s change, humans don''t change.


    Greed, fear, love of control, these are the same motivations with little difference here and there.


    To summarize, mafia means power and cruelty.


    If they know your weakness, you''re dead.


    If they know your secrets, you''re dead.


    Unlike heroes who have a family to protect them or a background that makes everyone hate them but can''t touch them, the owner of this body has only himself and his knowledge to protect him, at least that''s what I''ve gathered so far.


    I''m not afraid of them knowing I''m not their master, I''ll find the perfect excuse which is memory loss, but my fear lies in someone trying to exploit the situation.


    The maid stands before me with her face and expression that I find hard to decipher.


    Trembling, my mind works at its maximum speed to get me out of this unenviable situation.


    "What makes you say that?"


    I ask my question with utmost coolness, trying to buy time as I step back towards the desk.


    "I''ve been suspicious since you yelled at the servant."Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Yelling at the servants? Don''t tell me the body''s owner has never yelled at the servants before.


    I don''t believe it. From my analysis so far, it''s impossible. I''ve seen the fear in their eyes.


    "Haha, just because I yelled at them, I''ve become amnesiac?"


    Once again, I ask her a question that makes her doubt her analysis as I take another step back.


    "Sir, I''ve never seen you love anything in your life as much as you love admitting guilt, whether they were wrong or not."


    Admitting guilt whether they were wrong or not? Damn, he really is narcissistic. I take another step and say:


    "Is that all?"


    "You made me walk in front of you."


    What''s the problem with making her walk in front of me? I was confused and found no response to that except silence to make her explain.


    "Sir doesn''t like anyone walking in front of him."


    What? He doesn''t like anyone walking in front of him? Are you serious?


    I don''t know who came up with the term narcissism, but they need to redefine it or come up with another term for this madman.


    He''s not narcissistic, he''s mentally ill and needs treatment.


    One last time, I stepped back to reach the desk, putting my hand behind my back to feel the surface of the desk to pick up the scissors I saw earlier.


    "You''re smart for just a maid. Is there anything else you''ve noticed?"


    I no longer care how the body''s owner used to address her, all I care about is extracting as much information about him from her as possible.


    Finally, my hand reaches the scissors, and I step forward towards her. She bows with all humility.


    "Sir has always had high standards when it comes to the subordinates around him, and in response to sir, sir has always loved to shower with cold water."


    "............"


    I found nothing to say except that he was indeed a penguin.


    At the same time that I was trying to find something to say, I found myself having reached the maid where there''s only one step between us.


    "What do you intend to do with this information?"


    A voice came out of me in a pitch I didn''t know I had before, with a glow coming from my eyes. I notice her body trembling as she immediately bows.


    "I dare not do anything. I dare not do anything."


    She repeated it to try to convince me.


    But without my command, my body moves to grab her neck and push her to the wall, taking out the scissors and placing them on her neck.


    From the force of my pressure, a red dot of blood starts appearing on its edges.


    With my face close to hers, my eyes on her blue ones, and contrary to what you''d expect from a beautiful girl like her, I see neither fear nor pleading, but that look that''s hard to identify.


    And as I''m thinking about my next move, I feel my hand holding the scissors moving to press on her neck, but luckily this time I was aware of my actions and stopped it from its endeavor at the last moment.


    The more I look at her, the more confused I become.


    "Why are you so calm? Do you think I can''t kill you here and now, or is there something you''re relying on to save your life?"


    "No sir, I have no doubt in your ability to do as you please. You can kill me. As for the reason, you can say I betrayed you, you can even say that you no longer like my appearance. All that will happen is an increase in their terror and respect for you, sir."


    Without changing her expression, she replies, talking about her death as if it''s something that doesn''t concern her.


    What''s wrong with this maid? Is she the type who loves the protagonist no matter what he does to her?


    What do I do now? If I leave her there, there''s a chance she might exploit me or betray me.


    What should I do?


    "Sir, don''t hesitate, this servant understands your position."


    Her sweet voice brings me out of my thoughts, but her words only increase my confusion.


    "Why are you so submissive?"


    I focus all my attention on her face in hopes of noticing any expression that would help me understand her intentions, but to no avail, she still has the same features, which makes me suspect she''s being honest.


    "In response to sir, I had no life before sir and will have none after him. If my death will ease sir''s mind, then I will have completed my mission."


    "What is your mission?"


    "In response to sir, my mission is to do everything sir commands."


    I know this scenario, it seems to me that the body''s owner saved her from some event, which made her infatuated with him and even worship him as her only purpose in life.


    With these thoughts, my hand relaxes a little.


    "But sir, if you allow me, I don''t think it''s wise to kill me while you''ve lost your memory."


    "Why?"


    Even though I know the answer, I''m interested in what she''s going to say.


    "With sir''s memory loss, he will need someone he trusts to help him understand and know his position so he doesn''t make mistakes and everyone finds out."


    "And do you know everything about me?"


    "In response to sir, I only know what sir has allowed me to know about him, but in my opinion, it''s enough to help sir succeed until he regains his memory."


    Her words are logical, I know that, but the risks are high.


    "What guarantees that you won''t betray me or take advantage of the situation?"


    "In response to sir, there is no guarantee except killing me."


    Once again, she talks about her death as if it''s a game.


    If I rely on my analysis, her personality is the type that would die with you.


    As for the look in her eyes, it seems to be a kind of feeling I''ve never experienced in my past life, it could be either loyalty or love, whatever it is.


    I released her neck and she started coughing hysterically. It seems she had been enduring the pressure for a long time.


    I couldn''t help but admire her determination for not showing it on the surface all this time.


    I won''t lie, I felt guilty after seeing the mark on her neck, asking myself what I was doing now.


    She wipes her neck with her soft hands and takes a deep breath to be able to speak, and without taking a moment to rest, she returns to her routine work.


    "Sir, the bath is ready and the guests will arrive within an hour."


    She quickly returned to work, just for me to praise her in my heart.


    But I must maintain the master''s position so as not to increase any suspicions.


    It''s better to continue pretending, I don''t know what she would do if she discovered that her master had died and a stranger had taken over his body.


    "Show me the way."


    "Yes, sir."


    She leaves the room and I follow her.


    With her slender figure and killer curves, I felt as if she was trying to seduce me, but I removed these thoughts from my mind after remembering that she was walking the same way before.


    She''s not trying to seduce me, she''s not trying to seduce me, I repeated these thoughts in my head until a question appeared in its place:


    "What was your name again?"


    As if lightning had struck her after hearing my question, she turned to me to give me a bow, and without missing her expression filled with disappointment for not remembering her name.


    She really loves the body''s owner, but this fact doesn''t make me drop my guard, remembering all the honey traps I''ve read about.


    She introduced herself with a dazzling smile.


    "Your personal maid, Azaria."


    ************


    Emiric : Azaria, hummm ,What do you think about the meaning this name offers, Whatever I think, I can''t find Something related

 chapter 7: the one to be sacrificed

    Let them suffer instead of us.


    This was the slogan the country adopted after finding a solution to the problem of predators attacking its citizens.


    The nameless kingdom had always been filled with forests and rivers, making it a destination for anyone seeking relaxation from neighboring countries.


    Like everything in this world, it had its advantages and disadvantages. One of the drawbacks brought by nature was its predatory animals.


    The nameless kingdom owned the largest portion of the Great Forest in the world, stretching from the north to the south, effectively dividing the country into east and west.


    The cities and villages were situated on the eastern and western edges, while the middle was dominated by a dense forest.


    I can''t even begin to describe the amount of mockery and ridicule that came from other kingdoms, making every citizen feel ashamed and angry.


    As if that weren''t enough, the predators started attacking people left and right, forcing the kingdom to find an immediate solution. The solution was harsh, even excessively selfish.


    The king himself issued an order to establish a committee of analysts and historians tasked with drafting a detailed report on peaceful and hostile animals.


    The report was then published as a blacklist distributed to all local and foreign hunters, along with rewards for capturing these animals alive.


    Hunters spread across the kingdom, and in a short period, most of the animals were captured. The remaining ones would eventually die on their own, unable to survive alone.


    To everyone, this seemed like a logical measure, given the kingdom''s economic and psychological troubles caused by these animals.


    But what wasn''t understood was why the animals were captured instead of being killed.


    The kingdom''s budget wasn''t enough to sustain animals that no one wanted to see in a sanctuary. Almost every family had a painful history with these creatures.


    Either they lost a loved one, came close to losing someone, or had to abandon their home or land just to stay alive.


    It was only a matter of time before everyone discovered the king''s plan.


    On a dark night, a stern order was issued to transfer all the predators to the borders. Which borders? The northern and southern ones, of course.


    All the animals were dumped there. The predators that had lived in the forest weren''t particularly attached to their habitat. All they cared about was living in groups and finding places with food they liked.


    Once they found themselves in similar conditions, they resumed their behavior, turning the kingdom''s problem into its neighbors'' problem. This led to various diplomatic issues and wars that continue to echo to this day.


    This was the preface of the article Azaria gave me after I asked her about the meaning of her name.


    I was lying in a golden bathtub.


    It reminded me of a meme about rich people''s bathrooms I used to laugh at.


    The bathroom was indeed huge but empty, with only a golden toilet at its center. The difference here was that it had a bathtub instead of a toilet. Haha, whoever lived here sure loved extravagance.


    Next to the bathtub was a device resembling a computer connected to a 360-degree adjustable screen, making it convenient to watch. Even if the screen accidentally touched the water, there was no need to worry¡ªit was waterproof.


    The technological advancements in the nameless kingdom surpassed all other nations. I''d always wondered how their focus shifted from tourism to education. I was curious but lacked the motivation to study history in painstaking detail.


    I could have looked up information about the kingdom''s current state or the owner of this body on the internet, but I had a weakness for stories and understanding the meanings behind things. That''s why I wanted to know what Azaria meant to tell me.


    Besides, the article''s author was talented and knew how to captivate readers.


    These are the real geniuses, in my opinion, teaching you history in an enjoyable way.


    If only teachers were like them, I might have been a top student. I''d even dare to claim that no bookworm could compete with me.


    (Author: Yes, keep convincing yourself of that.)


    The kingdom had finally dealt with a long-standing issue, only for another problem to arise¡ªa significant drop in tourism.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Tourism alone had accounted for nearly 40% of the kingdom''s revenue, but this figure plummeted to 20% after the measures were taken.


    Neighboring countries began urging their citizens not to visit the kingdom, blaming it for the suffering of victims who now appeared on their borders.


    As a result, those who had once praised the king''s wisdom and intelligence turned into critics of his policies.


    But the king remained indifferent. He held the annual royal banquet and specifically invited the kingdom''s top investors and those from abroad.


    How could any businessman within the kingdom refuse such an invitation? But the foreigners weren''t prepared to face the wrath of their governments and citizens, so they declined.


    The king, however, was persistent. He sent another invitation, this time containing a private letter. No one knew its content, but it was rumored to be an offer they couldn''t refuse. And they didn''t. They rushed to the banquet like dogs chasing a bone.


    Not long after, the kingdom launched its largest project ever:


    The world''s biggest park.


    This grand plan turned the entire forest into a tourist resort¡ªa vision that had crossed the minds of many previous kings but was deemed too challenging.


    The first challenge was the predators in the forest, a problem solved at a minimal cost by paying hunters a pittance¡ªor nothing at all in the case of those who saw it as a national duty to cleanse the kingdom of the creatures that had claimed many lives.


    The second challenge was the project''s funding. For that, the king invited investors from around the world. They agreed on one condition: complete control of the project and half the profits¡ªa small price considering the massive pie to be shared.


    The third challenge was the neighboring governments discouraging their citizens from visiting the kingdom. The solution? Let foreign businessmen handle the problem.


    They launched all sorts of advertisements to clear the kingdom''s reputation, and it worked¡ªexcept in countries with authoritarian regimes. Democratic governments, reliant on persuasion, failed miserably against the overwhelming influence of the ads, which blamed the deaths on their own governance failures.


    This simple maneuver raised the kingdom''s tourism revenue from 20% to 50%, breaking all records and cementing the king''s reputation as the smartest¡ªand slyest¡ªmonarch in the kingdom''s history.


    I exhaled deeply, reflecting on what I had read. I couldn''t help but admire this king.


    Some might find his solutions simple, wondering why his predecessors hadn''t implemented them. To me, the answer was clear: his open-mindedness.


    His policies were all about utilizing every available resource, whether local or foreign.


    Unlike his ancestors, he didn''t shy away from involving outsiders in a major project, nor was he cowardly.


    Chapter Translation


    Other kings would have acted cautiously, trying not to anger anyone. But he didn''t care.


    I can say for sure that he''s the one who launched the slogan written at the beginning of the article.


    Still, I kept wondering about its connection to her name. Based on the timeline of events, this all seems to have happened before my grandparents were even born. To find the answer to my question, I continued reading.


    Afterward, the Nameless Kingdom witnessed stability and prosperity, and no one imagined that this project would end in a disaster no one could foresee¡ªnot even in their wildest imagination.


    The end began with a family.


    The family consisted of a father, a veterinarian; a mother, a psychologist; and three children: an older brother, a middle brother, and a younger sister.


    A happy family, like any other, spending time together and touring the park for a week. Everything was normal until the eighth day¡ªthe day when everything began to fall apart.


    That evening, the tourists gathered around the campfire, singing and sharing stories.


    The father and mother sat close to each other, enjoying the atmosphere, leaving their children in the tent assigned to them. Then suddenly, the mother stood up, screaming hysterically:


    "My daughter, my daughter!"


    Without thinking, everyone followed her, their faces showing confusion and concern over what was happening.


    The mother reached the tent, rushed inside without waiting, and the father followed her, leaving the rest of the group outside, waiting to understand what was going on.


    They didn''t wait long. The father came out, shouting:


    "Someone call the police! My daughter is missing!"


    About an hour passed before the police arrived and began their investigation.


    For context, the park was a reserve home to many animals.


    Throughout its history, there had never been a single complaint of animals attacking humans.


    There were some complaints early on about wolves surrounding tourists when they lit fires and cooked meat. However, these complaints stopped after it became known that the wolves weren''t aggressive¡ªthey were merely waiting for scraps of food.


    In her statement, the mother accused the wolves of kidnapping her daughter. She claimed she had seen several wolves following her throughout the day while she was holding her baby daughter.


    But the investigators didn''t buy her story and asked why she suddenly stood up and started screaming. Her response was:


    "I heard my daughter crying. She only cries like that when someone other than me is holding her."


    When the group that had been sitting with the parents was questioned, they all clearly stated that they hadn''t heard anything. They were baffled as to why the mother had suddenly started screaming.


    Doubt began to grow around the mother and father, suggesting they might have been involved.


    Foreign media caught wind of the investigation''s direction and the authorities'' intention to accuse the parents, which infuriated them.


    All sorts of allegations were made against the local authorities, accusing them of following the kingdom''s orders to frame and mislead people about the dangers of the forest to tourists.


    Due to the weak king at the time, who was trying to avoid upsetting anyone, the police were forced to drop the allegations against the parents and focus instead on finding the child. They began searching the wolves'' den and even inspected all the animal shelters.


    There was one rule in the park that prohibited disturbing the dens or homes of any animal, as they could become aggressive even if they were normally peaceful.


    And that''s exactly what happened. The animals turned hostile, leading to the park being shut down. This only fueled the public''s anger, as the child still hadn''t been found.


    A week after the incident, new evidence came to light just before the case was closed: the missing child''s name was Azaria, which, in the culture of her parents'' homeland, meant the one to be sacrificed.


    As soon as I read this line, a bell rang in my mind.


    Could that child be the maid? Or is it just a coincidence in names?


    ***********


    Author: I hope you don''t say anything in this chapter.


    Emiric: keep hoping.


    Author: Oh my God.


    Emiric: Relax. ''Let them suffer instead of us.'' How original. Did you brainstorm that over breakfast?


    Author: In fact, I thought about it when I was waking up from your mother''s bed.


    Emiric: Oh shite, author, you are my dad?

 chapter 8: I am a dead man inevitably

    There are hundreds, even thousands, of beliefs in existence, some strange and others reasonable.


    Yet, one belief remains widespread: a child must be given a name with meaning, symbolizing a trait the parents hope the child will embody or achieve.


    Although this belief has been debunked many times ¡ª as anyone could see whether a person named "Joy" is truly joyful or not ¡ª it hasn''t disappeared. On the contrary, factions have formed to support and promote it.


    The missing child''s name was Azaria, which, in the culture of the parents'' homeland, means "the one to be sacrificed."


    When the police discovered this clue, they had enough reason to detain the husband and wife, preventing them from leaving the kingdom.


    But it was already too late. By the time the authorities reached their residence, another mystery awaited them.


    Breaking into the apartment where the suspects were last seen, they found the man drenched in blood.


    Standing over his body was a young boy holding a bloodstained knife in his left hand ¡ª evidently the murder weapon ¡ª and a baby girl in his right hand.


    It turned out the man was the husband, the boy was their second son, and the baby girl was none other than the missing child who had turned the kingdom upside down during the search: Azaria.


    Where were we, and where did we end up? The complexity of the case led to a media blackout, and only the following details were released to the public:


    The second son was sent to an orphanage, as it was determined that he acted in self-defense, though further details were omitted.


    The baby girl, Azaria, was also placed in an orphanage.


    The wife was imprisoned on charges of deception, defamation, and attempting to falsify evidence. However, she managed to escape.


    There was no information about the eldest son.


    Rumors circulated that this was all part of a plot by a rival nation to sabotage one of the kingdom''s key economic sources.


    While these claims couldn''t be confirmed, if true, the plot was sadly successful.


    But, as we said at the beginning, every event has its good and bad sides.


    The bad? The kingdom lost one of its most vital economic assets.


    The good? The loss forced the kingdom to invest in education, ultimately elevating it to rank among the world''s most powerful nations.


    Which is why I say, confidently: thank you.


    Yes, thank you, rival nation. Without you, we would not have risen to these heights.


    This article was written by Suzy Loney.


    Yes, that news anchor. It seems she wrote this piece early in her career. She''s a nationalist to the core.


    For the hundredth time, my eyes drift to the bottom of the article, where a section titled "Important Note" catches my attention.


    "This article falls under the protection law and Privacy Act."


    In short, this disclaimer appears in all news reports.


    It''s a law that prohibits publishing personal names or addresses unless explicitly approved by the courts. Violating this law could lead to legal action, even closure or imprisonment.


    Thus, no names are mentioned in the article ¡ª except for Azaria. The reason is clear: her name was a critical piece of evidence, meaning it was no longer protected under the law.


    Lost in my thoughts, a voice pulls me back to reality.


    Knock, knock.


    "Sir, the first guest will arrive in thirty minutes."


    "Alright, Azaria. I''ll step out now."


    I rose from the bathtub, wrapping myself in a towel left nearby.


    Standing before the mirror, I examined the scars on my new body.


    As I stared, I couldn''t help but recall her submissive blue eyes when I held her by the neck, threatening to kill her.


    Would I really have killed her? The thought sent a shiver through me.


    Raising my hands, I stared at them in fear and dread.


    Who''s in control now? Is it me controlling this body, or is the body controlling me? Have I changed? Change is good ¡ª but too much, too fast, and I might go insane.


    I put on the blue suit Azaria had prepared for me, shaking off my dark thoughts and focusing on the upcoming meeting.


    As I stepped out of the bathroom, dressed elegantly, her blue eyes were bowed before me.


    "Sir,".


    When our eyes met, guilt struck me again, especially after reading the story that could very well be her family''s.


    I wanted to apologize, but the barrier between master and servant stopped me.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    To my surprise, Azaria remained utterly composed, showing no signs of being affected by what I had done.


    She''s truly a professional. It''s impossible she wasn''t affected, Especially since she has feelings in her mold for the body''s owner.


    I walked toward the gate to wait for the guests, Azaria following behind. Unable to contain my curiosity, I asked:


    "Was the story I just read your family''s?"


    As if she had been waiting for the question, she answered without hesitation:


    "In response to you, sir, yes."


    Her answer made me pause and turn to face her.


    "How can you be so sure? There''s no way the orphanage would have told you."


    "The sir told me."


    She meant the former owner of this body.


    I resumed walking, my mind racing with questions.


    How? How did he know something protected by the protection law? Just how deep and far-reaching is his influence? Could he have lied to her? But why would he?


    Waiting at the foot of the stairs was the beautiful woman who was supposed to be my wife. She appeared to have been waiting to descend together.


    I quickly turned back to Azaria to ask:


    "What''s my wife''s name, and what''s my relationship with her?"


    "In response to you, sir, her name is Ivana. As for your relationship, I''m sorry, sir, I have no knowledge of it."


    "How could you not know? Aren''t you my personal Maid? Haven''t you seen me interact with her?"


    "In response to you, sir, Lady Ivana only appeared shortly before the incident, and I''ve only seen her with the sir once or twice. She never leaves his room unless she''s heading to her work. I''m sorry I can''t be of more help, sir."


    I had no choice but to improvise and see how things would unfold.


    As soon as I reached her side, she grabbed my elbow and put her hands on it.


    "I want to attend the meeting,".


    Her voice was pleasing to the ear, but her cold tone made me wonder if she was angry about something the body''s owner had done.


    As her slender hand touched mine, tension shot through me, and without meaning to, I pulled back slightly.


    Her expression filled with suspicion, and I quickly surrendered, letting her hold me again.


    In my previous life, I had never been touched by soft sex, not even rough sex.


    I should have been thrilled at a moment like this, especially with someone so stunning: radiant golden hair, black eyes, and skin as pale as milk.


    No, no, don''t think about milk.


    What made the situation unenjoyable was my fear of her noticing something strange in my behavior, just as Azaria had. Her revelation had shaken the confidence I''d built after convincing Hank and the others, reminding me of women''s uncanny intuition.


    Descending the stairs, Ivana at my side and Azaria behind, I prepared myself for the challenges ahead.


    As soon as I reached the door, I heard the bell ring, announcing the arrival of the guests.


    I gestured for Azaria to come to my side and whispered to her:


    "Do you know the names of the guests?"


    "I haven''t seen them before, but I sneaked a look at the list Hank had. I memorized the names, looked them up on the internet, and matched each name with a face to help you as much as possible, sir."


    Her words felt like drops of water to a man dying of thirst.


    I couldn''t help but show my admiration for her efficiency, causing her cheeks to flush red with embarrassment.


    Damn it. She''s amazing. Why isn''t she my wife?


    "My dear friend, Emiric, it''s been a while since we last met."


    A man in his thirties with a face full of scars¡ªhideous would be putting it mildly¡ªapproached, smiling a grin that made my stomach churn. His voice? The braying of donkeys would be music compared to it.


    Azaria leaned in to whisper in my ear:


    "His name is Az Lor."


    Ignoring the wave of disgust he triggered, I forced myself to act as naturally as possible.


    "My friend Az, how have you been?"


    I kept up this facade for half an hour, greeting every guest in turn.


    I called everyone "friend" if they called me the same and addressed as "sir" anyone who addressed me as such.


    But in a mere glance, I could tell they all had one thing in common: every last one of them was a gangster.


    Then came a guest who stood out a little.


    "Sir Emiric, you can''t imagine how worried I was about you."


    An elderly man¡ªeighty or ninety, who could tell? He was clearly in his final days.


    Honestly, I didn''t understand why he didn''t just buy a burial plot and wait for death to greet him.


    To make matters worse, he brought along a woman who could have been his granddaughter, but of course, she wasn''t.


    She had long black hair that reached her waist and a perfectly sculpted figure. Her one-piece dress clung to her body like it wanted to devour her. Full lips, red like cherries.


    Without shame, she stepped forward, grabbing my empty hand and deliberately nudging Azaria aside as she said, completely ignoring Azaria''s death glare:


    "Sir, I heard about the incident you went through. Are you okay?"


    Her seductive gaze could make even the strongest men falter.


    Is that old man insane? How could he ever satisfy her? I bet if she looked at him like that, he''d die on the spot from a heart attack.


    I glanced at Ivana to gauge her reaction, only to be surprised by her icy expression, as if the one being flirted with wasn''t her husband.


    "I''m fine and in good health, thank you for your concern, ma''am."


    "Oh no, call me Amy. My friends call me Ema. And my closest friends? They call me M. You can pick whichever you like."


    After her declaration, she stepped even closer, her large chest brushing against my arm. The exaggerated contact threw me off, leaving me unable to process the situation.


    In the middle of all this, Hank leaned in to whisper:


    "Sir, we don''t know who this is. She''s not on the guest list. Shall I take her in for questioning?"


    She wasn''t invited.


    As soon as Hank''s words reached my ears, suspicion started creeping in, only to be interrupted by Amy¡ªor was it just a coincidence?¡ªas she pulled me toward the dining table.


    "I''m starving. Let''s eat."


    Before I realized it, I was seated in the head chair.


    The tattoos covering their bodies, the scars they wore with pride, and their crude manner of speaking made my stomach turn.


    About fifteen guests had arrived, and they all sat around the long table, which was filled with every kind of delicious food. Without any formalities, they began eating.


    The scene was repulsive, nauseating even.


    The only thing that cleansed my eyes was looking at Amy sitting to my right, Ivana to my left, and, standing behind, Hank and Azaria, who still stared daggers at Amy, as if she might pounce on her any moment.


    "Sir, it''s clear that the assassination attempt was orchestrated by that wench. What do you think about killing her and feeding her corpse to the dogs as a warning?"


    I listened without showing any emotion, giving the impression that I was contemplating the suggestion. In reality, I had no idea who they were talking about.


    "Don''t act rashly. If anything happens to her, we''ll be the first ones blamed, and she knows that well. That''s why she dares to provoke us now. But it''s only a matter of time before everyone kneels, including her. Until then, let''s be patient."


    Another man responded loudly:


    "That wench! On her last program, she called on the people to intervene. If we leave her unchecked, we might not be able to complete our mission."


    My mind worked at full capacity. As soon as I heard their words, I began piecing things together. The more I connected the dots, the more dread consumed me.


    By the time the full picture became clear, my heart nearly stopped.


    It turned out I was the businessman funding gangsters to buy up sensitive institutions and companies within the kingdom.


    I was the one the news anchor was talking about at the time.


    I wasn''t a businessman, a gangster, or even part of the mafia.


    Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.


    I was an enemy of the kingdom.


    I was an enemy of the people.


    I was a traitor.


    I was a dead man.


    ********


    Author: Since he''s now dealing with a culture shock, let''s take advantage of the situation, shall we?


    So far, I¡¯d really appreciate it if everyone reading the novel could share their thoughts and advice.


    It would be nice of you to leave a review, or even just drop by to say hello.


    Thank you for giving the story a chance!


    Ah, the feeling of being able to say whatever you want without interrupting , it''s truly comforting.

 chapter 9: Tale of Nameless Kingdom

    In ancient times, a great empire ruled the world with power and might.


    The emperor had many wives and concubines, each with sons competing for their father''s favor.


    As the emperor neared death, he decided to divide his vast empire into smaller kingdoms, giving each of his sons a kingdom to rule.


    The emperor carefully distributed the lands, giving each prince a piece of land.


    Every piece of land was given a unique name that reflected its beauty and wealth.


    However, one piece of land, which was the most beautiful and richest of all, was left without a name.


    This land was meant for the youngest son, Prince Kalin, who had not lived up to the emperor''s expectations.


    Prince Kalin was intelligent and kind-hearted, but he was not a strong warrior or a cunning politician like his brothers.


    He was inclined toward science and the arts, which made him a subject of ridicule by his father and brothers.


    When the time came to divide the lands, the emperor refused to give Kalin''s land a name, as a form of punishment and humiliation.


    Prince Kalin became the ruler of the nameless land, and soon the news of this punishment spread throughout the empire.


    People began to mockingly call the kingdom ''Nameless'' and its ruler.


    Kalin and his people suffered from oppression and humiliation from the neighboring kingdoms, who looked down on them with contempt.


    Despite the hardships, Prince Kalin decided to turn his kingdom''s weakness into strength.


    He began to promote education and the arts in his kingdom, turning ''Nameless'' into a center of knowledge and culture.


    The kingdom became known for its schools and universities, attracting students and scholars from all over the world.


    When the neighboring kingdoms attacked ''Nameless,'' its people showed unparalleled courage and resilience.


    They used their intelligence and knowledge to defeat their enemies in unconventional ways.


    Prince Kalin led his army with wisdom and achieved unexpected victories, forcing the other kingdoms to respect them.


    Over time, the name ''Nameless'' transformed from a mark of shame to a symbol of pride and struggle.


    The kingdom became a model of inner strength and courage in the face of challenges.


    Prince Kalin earned the respect of the world and became remembered as one of the greatest rulers in history.


    Today, the Kingdom of ''Nameless'' is a symbol of resilience and transformation.


    From a land without a name to a symbol of pride and dignity, this kingdom proved that strength does not come from great names or vast wealth, but from the willpower and ability to transform in the face of challenges.


    The story of ''Nameless'' remains a constant reminder that shame can be turned into pride, and that difficulties can be a gateway to achieving the greatest accomplishments.


    This was the most popular story in the kingdom.


    Countless series and movies have been made, and it was considered the true story behind the kingdom''s name, despite it being filled with gaps and historical inaccuracies.


    Anyone who criticized it was considered a traitor and an agent.


    Legally, you couldn''t do anything to them, but when the people got angry, let''s see how the law would protect you.


    The people of the Kingdom of ''Nameless'' were known as the most fanatical about their country, as testified by foreigners who came to visit.


    They were not tolerant of tourists'' ignorance of their customs or taboos, leading to incidents of beatings, insults, and even killings over things that one wouldn''t expect.


    They were not labeled the most racist people for nothing.


    Of course, this was due to the strict educational system that focused on nurturing nationalism in children.


    Therefore, the idea of being an enemy of the kingdom seemed like a suicidal idea to me.


    Throughout my education, although it was a failure scientifically, it was successful in instilling fear and terror of the kingdom, especially the royal family and the four families.


    Of course, for every rule, there is an exception.


    The educational or political system makes you either a citizen who stands with the kingdom in everything, whether right or wrong, or a citizen who resents the kingdom and wants to destroy it, in other words, a traitor.


    There is only one charge that warrants the death penalty in the kingdom, and that is treason.


    Since the kingdom is based on democracy, the law must find evidence to convict the person. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    But don''t worry, if the law fails, the people won''t hesitate to carry out the punishment themselves.


    There is a well-known slogan,yes, I know there are many slogans; it''s not called the Kingdom of Slogans for nothing.


    Anyway, the slogan is:


    "The law may fail once, but the people never fail."


    This slogan was a nightmare for anyone accused of treason and whom the law couldn''t convict.


    It even got to the point where some criminals tried to cover up their crimes by polishing their reputation before the people, forgetting that they needed to protect themselves from the law first. In the end, their fate was the same,execution.


    So, I was puzzled as to how the kingdom had lost control of things to the point where I was sitting at this table, surrounded by all these disgusting faces, and I didn''t see any fear or awe as they talked about controlling the kingdom.


    What exactly happened in the past five years?


    "Sir, try this from my hand."


    Amy, for the thousandth time, extended her hand to feed me, and I, powerless, opened my mouth for her to place a piece of meat inside.


    I was about to die from the touch of her hands and her chest on my arm.


    You should know that in my first life, I was a virgin, and with the help of surgeries, I didn''t feel any sexual desire.


    But this body has no such restrictions.


    It''s a miracle I haven''t pounced on her in front of everyone, but I feel like I might explode at any moment.


    "Sir Emiric, why have you gathered us today? Did you find out anything about who tried to assassinate you?"


    One of the pigs finally addressed me, and not knowing what to say, I came up with the first excuse that came to mind.


    "The assassination attempt concerns me, and I will make those responsible pay dearly for it, don''t worry. As for this meeting, I want everyone to provide a brief and concise report on what has happened during my absence."


    "Of course, of course."


    They responded with the utmost sarcasm, giving me that dismissive look as if a child were speaking to them.


    This reaction left me feeling disoriented.


    In the midst of my confusion, suddenly everyone turned their attention, cutting off their jokes, and their expressions shifted from mockery to shock and fear.


    Of course, to understand the cause of this sudden change, I followed their gaze and found a dining knife pointed at my neck from my right side.


    If it weren''t for my hand, which acted on its own to grab the wrist holding the knife, I would be dead by now.


    I shifted my gaze from the knife''s tip to the person holding it.


    Amy?


    "What''s happening here?"


    Only one word came to mind: honeypot.


    Her face showed a surprised expression.


    It seemed she hadn''t anticipated this turn of events.


    As a reflex, she tried to pull her hand back, only to find that my grip on her wrist tightened.


    She stood up quickly, and with an acrobatic move, she raised her leg, aiming a powerful kick at my head.


    Her leg moved like a whip; I bent to avoid her attack and flung her arm to spin her in the air.


    She lost her balance, but due to her flexibility, she managed to regain control and landed on the table.


    I stepped back quickly, only to find Hank standing in front of me.


    All of this happened so fast that everyone, including myself, was confused, not knowing whether to be astonished by the beautiful assassin or by the businessman''s knowledge of martial arts.


    Before anyone could comprehend what had just happened, Amy dashed across the table, heading toward the door, knowing that her plan had failed.


    The guests tried to stop her.


    Some tried grabbing her wrist or leg, but she slipped through their hands with ease, as if she had no joints.


    She was only a few steps away from the door.


    Just as her hopes of escape started to rise, Hank suddenly appeared in front of her, as if from nowhere.


    "Did you really think stepping into the bathroom would be as easy as walking out?"


    Hank''s voice carried a mocking edge as he placed his right hand behind his back. His left hand rose, slicing downward like a blade aimed at Amy.


    The crowd held their breath. Surely, her speed wasn''t enough to evade him. But then, the impossible happened.


    Amy''s movements defied logic¡ªfluid and unnatural, as if her body lacked the constraints of joints altogether. She twisted, shifted, and avoided the strike effortlessly, her change in direction so seamless it seemed like sorcery.


    Before anyone could process what had just occurred, she was already past him.


    Curse your mother; she exited just as she entered.


    Hank showed some embarrassment, but he didn''t chase after her, as if he knew what would happen next.


    "Boom!"


    The sound reached my ears, and before I could wonder about its source, a cannonball fired from the door and hit the wall.


    "Boom!"


    She returned as quickly as she had exited.


    Who else but the beautiful Amy, who fell to her hands and knees after her back collided with the wall?


    She coughed violently, spitting blood from her beautiful mouth, with a kick mark on her chest.


    Fortunately, her towering peaks weren''t damaged.


    What am I thinking? She just tried to kill me!


    From the door appeared the hidden killer, Dexter, the driver, walking with heavy steps and a deathly look in his eyes that sent chills down the spine, holding a wide black knife in his left hand.


    Dressed in a black suit, he looked like the Grim Reaper.


    All the guests stood up, pulling out their weapons from their clothes.


    knives, swords ,I don''t even know where they were hiding them.


    guns ,it seems firearms have become widespread in the kingdom.


    And Cleaver? Does he think he''s a butcher?


    Damn, if they had wanted to kill me, I''d be dead a hundred times over by now.


    More men entered through the door, armed men from my side and the guests'' guards, filling the hall to its capacity.


    Amy quickly stood up, placing a knife to her throat, indicating her intent to commit suicide now that she realized there was no way out.


    "Stop!"


    I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to stop her, and fortunately, my attempt succeeded.


    "What? Do you want to make me an offer? No thanks. I came here knowing this could be my end, but honestly,you managed to fool everyone. Everyone thinks you''re just a businessman, but it turns out you know martial arts. Unfortunately for you, your cover is blown, and no one will believe you anymore. I might die here, but sooner or later, the truth will leak. These fools,it''s easy to extract information from them, haha."


    All eyes turned to the old man who had brought her with him.


    He felt embarrassed and lowered his head, unable to say a word.


    "I understand why you didn''t tell them. Your caution saved you today, but how long will you remain cautious? How long will you stay lucky?"


    Suddenly, the seductive charm she had vanished, and she started spouting nonsense, trying to sow discord and break their confidence.


    It was as if she was talking to me, but in reality, she was speaking to my subordinates.


    Does she think I don''t see what she''s trying to do? You''ve picked the wrong person to play with.


    I caught her intentions clearly this time, and her true goal finally became apparent to me.


    I raised my hand towards her as if signaling a dog to leave and said with a voice and expression of complete indifference.


    "Just do it."


    ***********************A word with son of ****************************


    Emiric: Hey Hank, come see the good old days when you couldn''t even touch a little girl.


    Author: Whoa, whoa, let''s dial it down a bit. No touch, no little and of course no girls.


    Emiric: Oh, my bad. Didn''t mean it like that, I''ll make it better, Hank come see...


    Author: No, no, you''re not bringing anyone else into this. I''m already struggling to work with you as it is. I don''t need another mess.


    Emiric: All this because he is a white man.


    Author: Yes, wait, what?


    Emiric: Racism, we will not advance until we abandon it once and for all.


    Author: Wait, I''m white men, what are you talking about?


    Emiric: Racism has expanded to the point that people have become racist against their own people, not cool.


    Author: ...

 chapter 10: I say what I will do, nothing less and nothing more

    My school life was hell, as you already know.


    I''ve talked about it before, haven''t I?


    That doesn''t mean I was the only one who suffered.


    I was there to witness someone else''s story reach its bitter end. And believe me, every time I saw someone else''s misery, I found myself accepting my own situation, convincing myself that someone else had it worse.


    A day that began as bright as any other ended in darkness.


    As usual, I arrived at hell (school) in the morning, driven by my mother.


    She was eager to get to her important meeting; it seemed like she might be getting a promotion.


    The moment I got out of the car, she drove off without waiting even a second, leaving me there while I was about to wish her good luck.


    I swallowed my words, which got stuck in my throat.


    Walking toward the school gate with my head bowed, I carried my heavy bag on my arched back, weighed down by an unnecessary load of books I didn''t even need.


    "What will you do during breaks? What if a teacher doesn''t show up for some reason? Do you want to waste your time playing around?"


    That''s what she said when I told her I didn''t need all these books.


    Once the guard recognized me, he let me in.


    I found someone waiting for me.


    "Good morning, Emiric."


    "Good morning, John."


    John was one of my friends. I mean, when someone else shares your misery, doesn''t it make sense to stick together?


    That''s what I did in my final year. I decided to break my isolation in hell (school) after that Scum, Null, graduated and left.


    It wasn''t just him. In my last year, there were about four of us undergoing surgeries and medications.


    No one openly talked about it, of course, but with just one look, we could recognize each other. It was the only group I ever joined, And it''s obvious, the last.


    We puked blood together in the bathroom.


    We failed exams together.


    We laughed at our vampire-like pale faces together.


    We joked about our zombie-like movements together.


    I wouldn''t be exaggerating if I said my final year was the best year I had in school, all because of them.


    I even imagined us hanging out together after finishing school, after our bodies were "factory reset" and fixed. But who could''ve guessed that on this very day, I''d wake up from those dreams?


    After exchanging greetings, we met with the others. While waiting for the bell to ring and announce the start of the school day, we exchanged glances in silence, focusing on John. He looked¡­ different.


    I''ll never forget his expression. It was something I''d never seen before.


    After holding back for a while, I couldn''t take it anymore and asked him,


    "John, are you feeling extra tired today? Don''t worry, the class will go by fast, and soon it''ll be time for your next dose. You''ll feel better then."


    We always encouraged each other like this.


    Mood swings were one of the side effects we could do nothing about except endure with patience.


    Usually, when one of us said something like this, we''d give a faint, lifeless smile that was still filled with hope¡ªhope that our suffering would end.


    But he didn''t smile. He turned to me and said,


    "Always stay strong."


    Confused, I searched his eyes, trying to understand the strange thing I saw deep within them.


    Then, the piercing sound of the bell broke the moment, marking the start of the day. Without explaining anything, he went to class, leaving us no chance to ask further.


    That evening, while leaving hell (school) with the other three, we joked about John, who said he needed to go to the bathroom.


    The jokes ranged from questioning his preferences to teasing that the medications were messing with him, and even suggesting that post-"factory reset," he''d start sleeping on his stomach¡ªall because he hugged me before heading to the bathroom.


    It has become a habit for us to entertain ourselves with such jokes. Sometimes I was the target; other times, I was the predator.


    "Boom."


    A loud crashing sound shattered our fun.


    Screams and cries erupted, and students ran in the opposite direction, colliding with us. With our weak bodies, we usually avoided crowds to prevent unnecessary injuries, but someone''s scream made me change my path.


    "Someone''s collapsed! Isn''t anyone going to call an ambulance?"


    The four of us pushed our way through the crowd, and our bodies froze when we recognized the person lying in a pool of blood.


    "John, John, John, John."


    I repeated his name, shaking his shoulder, waiting for him to wake up and tell us it was just a joke.


    But the dead don''t joke.


    In the school''s announcement, they said he hadn''t eaten breakfast that morning, felt dizzy, and lost his balance.


    "We mourn this loss, and let this be a lesson to you, children: always eat breakfast before leaving the house."


    I read that announcement over and over, and each time, my anger grew. It felt like they were mocking us.


    After the incident, I learned the school had always known about our health conditions and had never informed the authorities.


    Somehow, they managed to cover up his case.


    At first, I thought he slipped and fell because of the medications and surgeries.


    That was until I opened my email and found a message from John:


    "I''m done living. Sorry, my friend, for leaving you alone in this cruel world."


    Remember when I said I could distinguish between looks if I''d interacted with someone before? I had learned to identify negative gazes from everyone around me and positive ones like love, friendship, and loyalty from my friend John.


    When he left, he took everything I''d learned with him.


    I could no longer distinguish between expressions except for one¡ªthat thing I saw in his eyes.


    I realized what it was: the gaze of someone who had lost all hope in life.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    It''s something I''ve never seen in Amy''s eyes, no matter how closely I looked.


    "Just do it."


    My words caused a slight shift in her expression, something she quickly masked, but I''d already noticed it, which only boosted my confidence that she wasn''t truly suicidal.


    "Do you¡­ think I wouldn''t dare?"


    Haha. At least try to speak confidently, like the last time.


    Focusing on the details, I could see the difference.


    The pigs around me, however, noticed nothing.


    "No, no, you misunderstood me. I''m not doubting your ability to do anything. I''m just saying, do whatever you want. Just make your decision quickly¡ªI''m in a hurry. I''ll still know who you are. I''ll make sure to torture and threaten your family. I have a lot of work to do."


    I know she doesn''t want to kill herself, but that doesn''t mean I''ll say it out loud.


    She might act out of spite or desperation, and who knows, she might go through with it in a moment of despair.


    "I¡­ I don''t have a family. Nice try."


    I turned my head left and right as if searching for something, putting on a look of surprise.


    "Really? How did you come into this world? Could it be that you descended from the heavens?"


    Some laughter spread around, giving me the perfect chance to create an air of intimidation and control the situation.


    I stroked my chin and scanned her body from head to toe.


    "And here I was wondering how someone could have a body like yours. Turns out you''re an angel. By the way, where are your wings? Playing with them after your death is going to be fun."


    "Stop with the nonsense."


    She shouted, anger washing over her face.


    Realizing she''d lost her temper unnecessarily, she quickly composed herself.


    "Oh, is that your strategy? Quite disappointing."


    "I say what I will do, nothing more, nothing less. I''m an honest man, and I''ve spent my life building my reputation. If I promise something, I''ll fulfill it, even at the cost of my life."


    Playing the honesty and promise card always works.


    Even if she doesn''t believe me, simply putting the idea in front of her will make her brain subconsciously consider it a last option when she feels cornered.


    "Hahaha."


    Her sweet laugh echoed around us¡ªa tactic to suggest she wasn''t taking the bait.


    The pigs around me might believe it, but it doesn''t work on me.


    "Believe my backside. You''re the last person who should talk about honesty."


    I placed a hand over my chest, closed my eyes, and put on an expression of pure innocence.


    "They gave you a false impression of me, and it breaks my heart."


    I think a yellow halo appeared over my head from her perspective. I deserve an Oscar for this complex performance.


    Something like a ghost darted across my side, heading toward her, trying to grab her, but she noticed and stepped back until she hit the wall again, pressing the knife harder against her neck, so much so that blood started to pour out.


    "Dexter, stop where you are."


    My command struck him like lightning, forcing him to freeze.


    I looked at him indignantly, motioning with my hand for him to return to his place. Without a moment''s hesitation, he obeyed.


    "As I said¡­"


    I deepened my voice to force Amy''s focus back on me.


    "If you kill yourself, I''ll be left with no information. That''ll make me very angry, and to vent my rage, I''ll start playing with your corpse. And when I get bored, I''ll hand it over to the starving wolves standing behind me."


    Her gaze shifted to the men behind me, and her mind tricked her into seeing their eyes as those of ravenous predators.


    "I don''t care. What''s the point of honor after I''m dead?"


    Though she struggled to get the words out, her face seemed sincere.


    I''d forgotten we weren''t in the Middle Ages, where women cared about their chastity during their lives.


    I also overlooked the fact that she had already used her body to fulfill her desire¡­ her desire?


    A light bulb lit up in my mind, and my eyes gleamed.


    I''d figured it out.


    "Really? My apologies, I thought you had some honor."


    "How dare you¡ª"


    I quickly cut her off.


    "What about your family?"


    "I don''t have a fami¡­"


    "What about your neighbors?"


    "I don''t have neighb¡­"


    "What about your friends?"


    "I don''t have frien¡­"


    Every time she tried to deny something, I interrupted to highlight the absurdity of her responses.


    Once more, with the same performance, I said,


    "Just do it."


    Confusion showed on her face.


    Good. Now to end this.


    "After your death, I''ll take a photo of you and spread it all over the internet, offering a huge reward for any information. Sooner or later, I''ll find out who you are and who''s connected to you. I''ll leave it to your imagination what I''ll do to them."


    I delivered the last sentence with the widest evil smile I could muster.


    "You won''t succeed. You can''t find anything¡­"


    She''d fallen into the trap.


    "So, you''re from one of the big families."


    "...."


    Fool. Any response would have been better than silence. Her quietness confirmed my guess.


    I started clapping, then turned to address everyone.


    "The plan has changed. We''ll take photos of you all playing with her corpse and post them online."


    "Are you insane?"


    I turned to her, feigning surprise.


    "Why?"


    "They''ll know who posted it, of course!"


    "And if they do¡­?"


    My coldness and childlike questions drove her mad, making her wonder if I truly was deranged.


    "They''ll come after you for revenge."


    I shrugged in response.


    She didn''t know what to say or do. I''d deduced that she was from one of the big families for two reasons: her beauty and her actions.


    Rumors said the royal bloodline and the Four Families shared the same lineage, known for producing men and women with exceptionally high rates of beauty.


    The second reason? She was about my age and trained in martial arts. The big families were known to teach their children from a young age.


    Her ability to infiltrate this place and attempt to kill me¡ªshe''d clearly planned it herself without any help.


    What I ruled out was as follows:


    She wasn''t from the police.


    If she were, she could have recorded our conversation, providing evidence for my arrest and prosecution.


    She wasn''t part of the common folk.


    Those people move in groups, more organized and upfront. They confront you face-to-face and record videos to promote the idea of "taking the law into our own hands."


    Her reaction when I mentioned family was suspicious.


    Regular citizens feel loyalty to the kingdom, not to specific families. Only the Four Families or the royal lineage exhibit such familial pride.


    She didn''t care about the honor of her body, but what about the honor of her family?


    Her mind raced, thinking and overthinking. She''d done this to make them proud of her. But now, if this spread across the world, it would make her family a laughingstock.


    In her mind, she imagined posts of her photo and headlines on digital news outlets:


    "A member of one of the Four Families caught after a failed assassination attempt on a businessman who hasn''t even been convicted of treason."


    She didn''t succeed in stopping the threat to her kingdom, nor did she preserve her family''s honor.


    Her mind raced to find an escape, but her thoughts were empty. Until, suddenly, from the darkest corners of her mind, a glimmer of hope emerged¡ªsomething she never thought she''d consider.


    I gave her a knowing smile, as if I could read her mind. Her body trembled, filled with terror at what might happen to her. Yet she saw no other way out.


    "Promise me you won''t involve my family in this."


    I raised my right hand as if taking a sacred oath.


    "Promise. This will stay between us. Extracting information will depend on my skill and your endurance."


    Everyone watched, tense, waiting to see what would happen.


    Amy hesitated. Our eyes met, and the room fell silent.


    Slowly, she lowered her hand. She hesitated for a moment longer, then threw the knife away and collapsed to the floor in surrender.


    She broke down, realizing her game was over and she''d lost this round.


    The silence hung heavy for a few moments, broken only by Dexter''s heavy steps as he approached Amy.


    He grabbed her by the neck like a punching bag and started hitting her in the face and stomach.


    "bom,bom"


    "Stop, stop! What are you doing?"


    Dexter froze, looking at me in confusion, as though I''d interrupted his daily routine.


    His answer to my question nearly killed me.


    "I''m punching her."


    "¡­.."


    "Take her somewhere suitable for her kind. I still have a meeting to attend."


    I waved my hand, and he moved according to my command.


    I was about to sit in my chair when a shiver ran through me.


    This psycho might do something to her while I''m here. Better make sure he follows orders to the letter.


    "Wait."


    He stopped, puzzled, and looked at me as if to say,


    "What now?"


    I ignored his expression.


    "Open the way. Show me where you''ll put her."


    I followed Dexter, ignoring the pigs standing like streetlights.


    The farther we went, the colder it became.


    We descended a staircase into the basement.


    I thought he''d leave her there, but he approached a wall instead.


    He ran his hand across it, triggering the sound of movement.


    The mechanical shift revealed a long, dark passage lit by a few torches on either side.


    I kept walking behind Dexter as the smell of rot and filth hit my nose, accompanied by faint sounds of screams.


    "Sir, spare me."


    "Sir, please stop."


    I looked around, trying to make sense of where I was.


    "A prison? Is there a prison beneath the mansion?"


    **************************Words with parasitic********************************


    Emiric: Come on, this is confusing, man. Is it ''palace'' or ''mansion''?


    Author: I don''t know, man. I think palaces are for royal families, so it''d make more sense to say mansion since you''re not one of them.


    Emiric: Leave it as ''palace''.


    Author: Don''t you hear? Palaces are for royalty.


    Emiric: Fine, ''palace'' it is. Don''t change it.


    Author: Man, why are you making such a big deal out of something so simple now?


    Emiric: You''re the one making it a problem, not me. A writer who doesn''t know the difference between ''palace'' and ''mansion''¡ªthat''s the real issue.


    Author: First, English is my second language, secondly, You''re the one narrating the story, and you''re the one who described it as a ''palace'' the first time.


    Emiric: And you''re the writer¡ªyou should know if I''m the one talking nonsense and then correct me.


    Author: Look...


    Emiric: Just leave it as ''palace.'' I like it.


    Author: Will someone say something to him, please?

 chapter 11: Who are you?

    The stench was enough to make even the filthiest of creatures nauseous.


    Screams and cries echoed through the halls, begging for mercy.


    I could barely see anything, relying on the faint, flickering torches along the walls.


    The blackened walls were so dirty it seemed they''d never known water, while the floor was covered in mud with splatters of blood scattered here and there.


    With every step I took, I heard more desperate cries. The deeper I went, the worse the rot, filth, and, of course, the screaming.


    Finally, Dexter stopped in front of one of the empty cells and carelessly tossed Amy inside. She landed with a groan, her swollen face showing the aftermath of his earlier brutal beating.


    The cell''s floor was flooded with foul-smelling water, a mix of sewage and rotting straw, no different from the other cells.


    Amy''s hands and feet were shackled like a prisoner from the Middle Ages and strapped to a torture chair that looked like it belonged in a horror film.


    As if it were routine, Dexter punched her for what must have been the thousandth time.


    "Bam!"


    "Stop!"


    I was getting tired of repeating the same command to him.


    "Enough! Get out now!"


    I tried to infuse my voice with impatience, hoping it would snap him out of his madness, but the man was clearly insane.


    As soon as he stepped out of the cell, Dexter dropped to his knees and began banging his head against the ground.


    "My bones beg to be broken, and my flesh longs to be torn. There is no life after my failure, and no peace after my death. Please, sir, punish me for my incompetence."


    His declaration of regret blended with the sound of his skull smashing against the floor, his movements and tone showing no hesitation.


    Unlike other times I''d heard this chant, which always carried traces of insincerity, fear, or hesitation, this felt different.


    Something made me stand there and watch instead of stopping him. I didn''t know why, but I liked it.


    Damn it! I''m going to go insane by the end of this story.


    I forced myself to shake off those disgusting feelings.


    "Stop that!"


    "My Master''s secret was revealed because of my negligence. Please punish me."


    A secret? What secret is he talking about now?


    "How many times do I have to repeat myself? When I say stop, I mean stop. I don''t have time to waste on your nonsense."


    Finally, Dexter stopped, though his expression showed dissatisfaction. Yet he couldn''t disobey me.


    Was he a masochist? How could he keep going, even with his face already smeared with blood?


    "You really turned him into a loyal puppet," came a voice.


    I turned toward it, startled to realize it was from one of the prisoners.


    My surprise came from the fact that, ever since I''d entered this place, not a single prisoner had spoken beyond begging for mercy¡ªexcept for this man.


    I focused on his appearance, but the darkness hid most of his features. All I could make out was his massive frame, muscles bulging everywhere. He sat in a meditative posture, with shackles binding his wrists and ankles to the wall behind him.


    From the length of the chains, it seemed he could barely lie down or stand. To reach the bars of his cell, he''d have to break his restraints, which seemed impossible.


    Why was he, of all people, restrained like this? Even the way he addressed me was different from the others. His voice carried no fear or pleading; instead, it suggested an equal footing.


    "It seems you won''t shut up until I cut out your tongue,".


    "Hahaha, I''d love to see you try, you loyal dog of your master. It''s easy to talk big when you''re outside the cell, and I''m chained up."


    As soon as he finished speaking, Dexter stormed toward the prisoner''s cell, pulling a black knife from his sleeve.


    I stopped him by grabbing his arm.


    "Stop!"


    Damn it, how many times have I said that word already?


    The prisoner''s body language suddenly shifted.


    He stood quickly and tried to approach the bars, only for his chains to hold him back. He struggled, straining to get closer, as if trying to see my face hidden in the darkness.


    His sudden movements threw me off, causing my grip on Dexter to loosen enough for him to break free and move toward the bars.


    "Bam!"


    Dexter kicked the bars in an attempt to push the prisoner back, but it had no effect. His frustration grew, and he prepared to enter the cell himself to subdue the defiant man.


    "Dexter, move ahead of me."


    Instead of using "stop" again, I tried to change it up. What could I do? The man had anger issues.


    Realizing my impatience from constantly stopping him, Dexter complied, walking away while visibly suppressing his rage toward the prisoner.


    I didn''t know who the prisoner was, nor did I understand the plans of this body''s owner, so I couldn''t risk letting Dexter act recklessly.


    "How long will you keep hiding behind your master''s skirts? How long will you avoid facing me? How long will you watch your mother reign at the top while you stay a dog at the bottom?"


    The prisoner''s final words were the last straw.


    Dexter''s rage ignited into a blazing fury, burning away his self-restraint.


    He turned quickly, lunging toward the prisoner with murder written on his face.


    I grabbed his shoulder, but he slipped out of my grasp. I managed to catch his right wrist, stopping him just before he reached the prisoner.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    As a last act of defiance, Dexter grabbed a torch from the wall and hurled it at the prisoner.


    The torch flew through the bars, landing in the cell. The prisoner swatted it away like it was a fly, it fell onto the straw-covered floor, igniting it.


    The flames lit up the area, finally revealing all our faces.


    The prisoner''s curly hair fell to his shoulders. His skin was a sickly yellow, evidence of malnutrition. Half of his face was disfigured with burn scars, adding to the unsettling impression he gave me.


    And then, In the midst of the impression his face gave me, he spoke the one question I''d feared hearing since I woke up.


    "Who are you?"


    The weight of his question sent waves of fear and confusion through me.


    Without thinking, I grabbed Dexter by the shoulder and pushed him forward, making him walk ahead of me.


    I couldn''t risk him asking the prisoner any questions.


    Only a few seconds pass until I find myself far away from him, and my breathing begins to stabilize a little.


    In his cell, the prisoner stood motionless, his dark eyes locked on my back as the fire beside him burned. It was as if he''d seen enough. Slowly, he raised a hand and, with a swift motion, snuffed out the flames, plunging the cell back into darkness.


    With a single step, he returned to his spot and resumed sitting, though faint traces of confusion lingered on his face.


    "What''s wrong with him?"


    The sound of mechanical gears grinding to a halt signaled the closure of the wall leading to the hidden prison beneath the mansion.


    Dexter was in front of me again, kneeling.


    "My bones beg to be broken, and my flesh longs to be torn. There is no life after my failure, and no peace after my death. Please, sir, punish me for my incompetence."


    I couldn''t tell which was harder¡ªhis skull or the floor¡ªbut he still had the strength to continue.


    I placed a hand on my head, trying to suppress the rising anger within me.


    Who was that prisoner? How did he know I wasn''t the body''s owner? Since waking up, no one had suspected me. And even if someone did, there was no way they could be certain I''d taken over the body.


    The closest anyone had come was Azaria, who noticed my inconsistent behavior. Even then, her logical assumption was memory loss.


    But that prisoner had spoken with certainty:


    "Who are you?"


    Could he have supernatural abilities?


    "Bam, bam."


    "Dexter!"


    He paused for a moment.


    "Sir?"


    "Keep doing this until you lose consciousness. That''s your punishment."


    "At your command, sir. Thank you, sir."


    Dexter finished his flattery and resumed what he had been doing before.


    My anger was so intense that I no longer knew what I''m saying, nor did I care anymore.


    I ignored him and made my way to the meeting room. The entire walk, I struggled to contain my fury, but it was a futile effort.


    I reached the table and sat in my seat, waiting for the pigs to take theirs.


    But they didn''t sit down, prompting me to look at their filthy faces, a questioning expression on mine as I waited for an explanation.


    One of them spoke:


    "Sir, I think the atmosphere is no longer suitable for a meeting. What do you think about postponing it?"


    "There''s no need. I''ve already clipped the wings of the fly that disturbed us. Let''s all sit down."


    I didn''t know what the future would hold or how much time I had left.


    I needed to gather as much information as possible.


    Besides, I had just created a terrifying image of myself in front of them, and I feared that image would fade once they returned to their nests.


    I also had to ensure that my knowledge of martial arts wouldn''t leak out.


    Some of them began exchanging hesitant glances, which only fueled my anger further.


    I slammed my hand on the table with all my strength.


    "Bam!"


    A crack spread from where I struck, running all the way to the edge of the table.


    "Sit your filthy asses down now!"


    Like a teacher scolding a group of children, they all obeyed immediately. I noticed the private guards of the guests and my own men standing like fools.


    "What are you staring at? Get your useless asses out of here!"


    Like sheep, they left, tails between their legs.


    I noticed the resentful looks on the pigs'' faces, as if they were silently asking:


    "Who exactly is your master? Why do you listen to him?"


    I ignored their pitiful gazes.


    "Before the fly interrupted the meeting, I remember ordering the report to begin. But due to your excessive hunger, none of you noticed my request. Of course, it wasn''t intentional for you to ignore me, was it?"


    I applied pressure with my words to ensure that, during the report, there would be no resistance or misdirection.


    "Of course, of course," they murmured, nodding obediently.


    It made me wonder why the body''s owner had hidden his strength from them.


    I understood that keeping them in the dark protected him, but didn''t he need them to accomplish certain tasks for him? And to ensure their absolute dedication, wouldn''t it have been better to fear him?


    I began eating in front of them while listening carefully and memorizing every sentence each of them said.


    My memory had always been exceptionally strong.


    If not for the Nameless Kingdom''s philosophy of education, which emphasized understanding over memorization, I would have been among the top students.


    Once they finished their report, I began to reassure them:


    "Each of us has our secrets, and it''s inappropriate to air our dirty laundry in public. I have my secrets, just like you."


    Their faces shifted as they reacted to my words.


    I thought to myself: Yes, I''m threatening you. This was nothing but a hollow attempt to ensure no rumors about me spread and to give the impression that I knew their secrets too.


    I let everyone leave without speaking to anyone. I headed to my room to analyze what I had just heard. But as soon as I entered, there was a knock at the door.


    Before I could grant permission, the door opened.


    I turned, ready to yell at whoever dared enter without my consent, but the words caught in my throat.


    Ivana. What she doing here?


    She stopped in front of me, her expression cold and unreadable. How do you read something that isn''t written?


    "Are we going?"


    Ah,What Now? Where? What should I answer her?


    "Of course."


    The moment I answered, something flickered in her eyes.


    A fleeting expression of hesitation appeared on her face for a second, as if she had made up her mind about something.


    She stepped closer, and I instinctively moved back until I felt the bed behind me.


    What she planning to do?


    I remembered the cold, distant relationship we''d had since I woke up.


    The thought of throwing her out crossed my mind, but before I could act, she placed her soft hands on my chest and pushed me onto the bed.


    Everything happened so quickly that my mind shut down, leaving one question echoing in my thoughts: What is she trying to do?


    Before I could answer, she lay on top of me, her hands roaming from my neck to my chest and then to my stomach. It awakened a beast of desire within me, silencing my thoughts completely.


    So what? Isn''t she my wife? Isn''t she the one who came to me now?


    Surrendering to these thoughts, I relaxed and waited for something to happen¡ªbut nothing did.


    I opened my eyes to find her staring at my now-awake little friend.


    Surprise flashed across her face before she stood up and looked at me strangely.


    The moment I saw her expression, I cursed internally.


    She was going to ask that question.


    "What happened to you?"


    I got up from the bed, knowing she had figured me out.


    There was no turning back now.


    "I''ve lost my memory."


    Her reaction was unexpected. She clutched her head with both hands and began pacing the room, muttering,


    "What do I do? What do I do? Everything''s ruined. Everything''s ruined."


    Her cold demeanor, which I had grown accustomed to in recent days, made me worry for her sanity. I tried to calm her down.


    "I''ve lost my memory. I haven''t turned into someone else. I''m still the same person. With your help, I''ll recover my memory over time."


    My words seemed enough to snap her out of her distressed state.


    She took a deep breath to calm herself, spent about two seconds organizing her thoughts, then turned to me with a look of feigned warmth.


    "You''re right. Nothing has changed. Rest, rest."


    Her reply was strange, and her expression was even stranger.


    Before I could say anything, she turned and left the room. But unfortunately for her, I caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror near the door.


    I recognized that look.


    I knew those eyes.


    They were the same ones I had seen on Null''s face when he left my mother''s office after negotiating to help me with my studies in exchange for her funding his education.


    The look of someone exploiting the situation.


    Now I had to resort to the plan I''d devised in the bathroom. Except this time, it wasn''t Azaria I needed to protect myself from¡ªit was Ivana.


    "Stop!"


    She stopped and turned, feigning innocence.


    "What''s the problem?"


    The problem is you.


    I took a deep breath and shouted at the top of my lungs:


    "Azaria, Hank! Get here now!"


    My voice echoed through the mansion, followed by the sound of rushing footsteps.


    "Knock, knock."


    "Come in."


    At my command, Azaria entered, followed by Hank.


    Azaria''s face was unreadable, while Hank''s showed his discomfort at being in my room.


    "At your command, sir."


    Amid their confusion, all of them wondering what was going on, I made my announcement.


    "You three are the only ones I trust more than anything else, so I''ve decided to tell you. I''ve lost my memory."


    The moment they heard this, Hank''s face turned to shock, while Ivana''s filled with fury, confirming my suspicions.


    She had planned to exploit the situation. I didn''t know the nature of the relationship the body''s owner had with her, but it clearly wasn''t a marital one.


    Hank''s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at me for permission.


    I nodded, letting him answer while keeping my attention on Ivana''s face.


    After ending the call, Hank turned to me, his face pale with fear and disbelief.


    "Sir, the guests were assassinated on their way back."


    "What?"

 chapter 12: The king鈥檚 black and dirty hand

    Has the spirit of the people returned, or are there hidden hands at play?


    At exactly 8 PM, the police arrived at the scene after receiving several reports.


    What they witnessed was shocking.


    The police found about 15 black cars.


    Five of them were completely burned with passengers inside, while the remaining ten had come to a halt due to their tires being blown out, in addition to the explosion of the first five cars.


    From the investigators'' analysis, they concluded that the criminals had been waiting for the victims to cross a specific point.


    As soon as the cars passed that point, explosives planted in the ground were detonated, causing the first five cars to blow up.


    Afterward, with the other cars stopped, they were attacked from all directions with a specific type of weapon that fired vertically-aligned bullets.


    One source said that it was difficult for analysts to describe the shape of bullets and their ability to move without changing direction.


    This conclusion was drawn from the distinctive bullet marks scattered across the cars.


    Strangely, some of the bullets showed burn marks, while others did not.


    Experts attributed this to the use of incendiary ammunition, but they couldn''t explain the lack of flammable materials at the crime scene. The only fuel present was the gasoline in the car tanks, which remained untouched.


    There were also signs of resistance.


    After the cars were stopped and fired upon, the guards opened the doors. They appeared to be armed, but oddly, not a single bullet was fired from their side.


    Even stranger was the manner of their deaths. They were either killed with knives, evident from the wounds on their necks and joints, or with hammers, as some of their skulls were brutally crushed.


    This raises the question: how could a group armed with long-range weapons be killed with close-combat weapons? And even if the attackers were fast enough to reach them, how did none of the guards manage to fire a single shot before being killed? Does that even make sense?


    That was the analysis of the crime scene.


    As for the motive behind the crime, it was revealed that the victims were a group of personal bodyguards and businessmen. What caught attention was the identity of the businessmen. Since their names are legally protected, their identities remain unknown. However, it was noted that they were the same individuals previously accused by the government and politicians of working to destroy the kingdom''s economy.


    So, I wonder: has the spirit of the people returned? Has their passion for their kingdom reignited, or are there hidden forces plotting something else?


    This was Suzy Loney. Until next time. Long live the Nameless Kingdom.


    As the program ended, I set the screen aside and lay back on the bed, my arms behind my head.


    The room was dark, illuminated only by strands of moonlight seeping through the glass window.


    I stayed in this position for about two hours, trying to sleep. But how could sleep come when my head was filled with so many thoughts?


    Adding to that was a cold breeze brushing against my body, causing me to shiver occasionally.


    I kept wondering where the breeze was coming from. I had closed all the windows, yet it persisted.


    I tossed and turned, hoping sleep would take pity on me and visit, but damn to his mother¡ªit had no mercy.


    Suddenly, I was overcome by a strange feeling. I tried to ignore it, but every hair on my body stood on end.


    I opened my eyes and instinctively sat on the edge of the bed, placing my hands beside me.


    I looked around and my eyes fell on a dark spot. I didn''t understand at first until I found myself saying:


    "Come out."


    From the pitch-black darkness emerged a man.


    No, a man whose face bore wrinkles, yet it was impossible for him to be old due to his small frame.


    Judging by his body, I''d give him no more than 20 years of age. My certainty was further strengthened by his clean-shaven face, despite its aged appearance.


    "Why did you reveal yourself to them?"


    His voice was that of a young man, in stark contrast to his face, which belonged to someone in their final days. Was it some kind of illness?


    His lack of aggression and his question gave me the impression that he wasn''t an enemy.


    But who was he, and how had he entered my room past all the guards watching the mansion? Did the body''s owner give him a key, or did he enter through a secret passage? I couldn''t think of anything other than questioning him for more information.


    "What are you doing here?"


    "You''re the one who should answer that. Your carelessness forced me to kill them, which will delay the Boss''s plans."


    Kill them? He killed those pigs and their guards? How did he manage that alone? No, he must have had men with him.


    Wait, the Boss''s plans? There''s a Boss? What kind of mess am I in?The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Everything happened so quickly. I handled the situation; killing them wasn''t necessary."


    "It was an order from the Boss. He said there are still people among the populace who might riot. It''s better to get rid of them and find replacements."


    It seemed that this person standing before me was a liaison between me and the Boss he mentioned.


    Hold on¡ªhow did he know what happened in the meeting? I was sure he wasn''t among the guards.


    How could I not notice someone with a face like his? Even his outfit¡ªa black hat and sunglasses, despite the sun having set long ago¡ªwas suspicious.


    "Why do you seem so lost in thought? Are you experiencing side effects from the operation?"


    The operation? He knows about it.


    So, he''s aware that the assassination attempt was staged.


    What kind of operation had this body undergone? I couldn''t find any records about it, and the doctor was killed by Hank.


    The only thing I knew was that it involved the head, based on the scar I discovered after waking up.


    My only conclusion was that the operation had failed, resulting in the death of the body''s owner and allowing me to take his place.


    "A little. I felt some confusion after waking up, but I''m fine now."


    It was clear that if the Boss learned I had lost my memory, he would get rid of me.


    "What about the serum? Any signs of interaction?"


    The serum? What now? Just as I began to process what had been said, a new piece of the puzzle was thrown at me. My head felt like it was going to explode.


    "Not yet."


    I said the first thing that came to mind. I needed time and rest to analyze all of this shit.


    "Number Two is waiting in the car. Aren''t you going to the arena?"


    "Yes, yes, of course."


    I ended my disjointed sentence only to realize the word arena, which made my face betray my confusion.


    Fortunately, the man had already turned his back and merged with the darkness once more. Though I could no longer see him, I still felt his presence.


    "The Boss instructed me to inform you that an investigation committee will visit you tomorrow to take your statement, as you''re connected to the victims. He also emphasized that you should be cautious¡ªthe investigation will be led by someone of exceptional intelligence."


    As his voice faded, so did the sensation of his presence.


    I quickly rushed toward the spot where he had disappeared, but there was only a wall.


    I ran my hands over it, hoping to find a secret passage or something, but to no avail¡ªnothing.


    He came, dumped a pile of questions on me, and vanished.


    I stood frozen in place, surrounded by darkness with no light to guide me, forgetting the moonlight spilling through the window.


    I took a deep breath.


    Number Two was waiting for me in the car.


    Where was this car? Turning around, I approached the window and opened it, spotting a black car with its headlights on¡ªa sign that its driver was inside.


    It seemed no one knew the body''s owner snuck out at night.


    If I tried leaving through the front door, what would be the point of sneaking out?


    The thought of how to reach the car crossed my mind. Was there really a secret passage in the room? All signs pointed to it.


    But I couldn''t think any further, so I took the shortcut.


    I opened the door and stepped out of the room, heading toward the kitchen.


    I had never been there before, but there was always a backdoor somewhere in the kitchen. With these thoughts in mind, I moved swiftly and silently.


    I couldn''t believe I was sneaking around in my own house just to avoid the servants noticing me.


    I was a disgrace to the wealthy. A disgrace to the nobles.


    I continued walking with light, quick steps, barely making a sound.


    I was surprised by how skilled I was at it, making me wonder if I had been a thief at some point in my life.


    I descended the stairs into the mansion''s corridors.


    It was truly massive.


    I crossed paths with several servants multiple times, but I avoided them with absolute ease.


    No wonder that old-looking young man could come and go as he pleased.


    Damn it, I need to create a new system.


    At this rate, the mansion isn''t a mansion anymore¡ªit''s a park where anyone can come and go as they please.


    As I neared the kitchen, I saw servants going in and out, carrying large dishes, their faces tense.


    Their mental state intrigued me, and curiosity got the better of me. I decided to follow one of them to see what was going on Behind my back.


    When the maid reached the large door, I realized it was the room where I used to dine with Ivana alone¡ªAzaria had told me that.


    The maid entered, and it wasn''t long before she came back out, leaving the door slightly ajar.


    I snuck up quietly and peeked inside.


    There, I saw a girl sitting in one of the chairs, voraciously devouring a three-tiered cake.


    As if that wasn''t enough, I noticed it wasn''t her first course¡ªthere were about four empty plates of the same size, as if they had been executed by her. Of course, who else could it be but Ivana?


    I couldn''t comprehend that the girl who always had an emotionless face now displayed every emotion imaginable.


    Fear was there, sadness was there, and even tears streamed down her cheeks.


    What had happened to reduce her to such a state of breakdown?


    But given my limited time, I decided to overlook the matter for now and save it for later.


    I resumed my thrilling journey to the kitchen, only to find it full of maids indulging in their favorite hobby: gossip.


    "What''s wrong with her today? I''ve never seen her like this before."


    "It''s not like we know much about her. We''ve only known her for a short time."


    "You''re right about that. But she''s crying¡ªdid she have a fight with the Master?"


    "It''s normal to fight with him. He''s a monster disguised as a knight on a white horse."


    "Did he hit her?"


    "I wouldn''t put it past him."


    "Evil. very evil. She probably fell into his trap because he''s handsome and rich, only to be shocked by the truth."


    Bitches.


    Whose side are you on, exactly? No, no, they''re tarnishing my reputation right in front of me.


    Who''s the innocent one here? Maybe she is a gold digger, considering how handsome I am.


    After some thought, I realized their words made sense.


    It seemed I had forgotten myself¡ªI am a gangster. What reputation was I even talking about?


    "I don''t understand why Miss Azaria likes him. She doesn''t allow a single word against him. It seems she fell into his trap a long time ago."


    Azaria is truly my girl. One of her nails is worth all of you bitches combined.


    Amid their fascinating discussion, an older maid entered, looking as excited as if she had won the lottery.


    "Do you know who the Master''s wife is?"


    They all responded in unison:


    "Who?"


    The question seemed to have exhausted them, as they desperately tried to figure out the answer.


    "Her first name is Ivana. And her family name is¡­"


    "Is¡­?"


    The maids crowded around her, their eyes glowing dangerously, making the older maid feel threatened.


    She hesitated, realizing she might lose her life if she dragged it out any longer.


    "Bloodsoil."


    Damn it. Damn it. I couldn''t take it anymore. I stepped out in front of them, and they froze in place, fear overtaking them.


    "Leave. Now."


    It took less than a second for the kitchen to empty out. The only sound I could hear was the footsteps of the maids fleeing for their lives.


    My eyes landed on the back entrance.


    I opened it to find a long path lined with trees. I followed it, and at the end, I found the black car waiting for me.


    I opened the door and sat in the back seat.


    The driver began driving without a word, and I didn''t care where we were going as much as I cared about my wife''s family name.


    Why? Why? Why am I the son-in-law of the most terrifying family in the kingdom?


    The king''s black hand.


    The king''s dirty hand.


    How did this even happen?


    ******************A word with the best author in the world*******************


    Emiric: The best writer in the world, are you there?


    Author: Firstly, I am the best author in all worlds.


    Emiric: Of course, of course, you are the best in the Milky Way, galaxies, worlds, and all timelines even¡­


    Author: Don''t make it long, What do you want?


    Emiric: Sorry for taking your precious time. I just wanted to ask if you could tweak the plot a little...


    Author: No.


    Emiric: Just hear me out¡ªit''ll be better.


    Author: No.


    Emiric: Son of ...


    Author: What?


    Emiric: Son of good people.


    Author: That''s what I thought.

 Chapter 13: Arena Fight

    Bloodsoil is one of the major families in the Nameless Kingdom.


    Their wealth originates from controlling the most fertile lands for agriculture.


    To be more precise, their income comes from anything extracted from the earth¡ªnatural minerals, energy resources derived from the ground.


    However, the most powerful and important thing they produce is food.


    The agricultural products they provide cover half of the kingdom''s total nutritional needs. Imagine if the family were angered¡ªthey could literally starve the kingdom into submission.


    But the real fear everyone has toward them isn''t just because of their resources; it''s because of this:


    The King''s Black Hand, The King''s Dirty Hand.


    These are titles that have been associated with the family for decades since their founding.


    Everyone assumed they would denounce or even be offended by these names, but on the contrary, they wear them as a badge of honor.


    In the Nameless Kingdom, unfortunate incidents occur, just as in any other nation.


    Just For example:


    The sudden suicide of a politician who opposed the King''s policies but later regretted doubting the King''s wisdom.


    Or a car accident involving a politician who was drunk and should have been taking better care of his health.


    Yes, as you might have guessed, the "Bloodsoil" family is allegedly behind such events.


    But we live in a democratic state, and without evidence, such claims are meaningless.


    I hear voices asking: "Where is the Spirit of the People when it comes to them?" Well, let me explain something first:


    The Spirit of the People, the police, the army, Bloodsoil, the media, the Kingdom''s forces, and specifically, the King''s power.


    The matter is about when to use one instead of the other.


    The police exist to maintain order and prosecute what can be prosecuted with laws that project a good image of the Kingdom externally.


    The army exists for external defense and attacks; they are not permitted to intervene in internal affairs.


    The Spirit of the People is represented by grassroots movements, supposedly spontaneous¡ªbut that''s what they''d like to think.


    In most cases where the Spirit of the People has been "moved," it was instigated by the Kingdom, spreading both overt and covert messages that these villains are against the Kingdom.


    But because we are a democracy, we cannot act against them without evidence.


    As for Bloodsoil, their role is to carry out what others cannot.


    There are even rumors that they use a terrorist organization for certain operations outside the Kingdom.


    If that doesn''t explain why I''m terrified of them, I don''t know what to tell you.


    I mean, you''re going against the Kingdom¡ªwhy would you marry one of its biggest supporters and bring her into your home? Is she a spy? Is the body''s original owner using her as a cover?


    Damn you, author.


    Why couldn''t you make my reincarnation into someone married to ten wives, all of whom adore me, and let me be the grandson or son of the most powerful entity in the galaxy, with a golden finger to boot? Why must life be so complicated?


    (Author: I''m confused now. Does he know I exist or not?)


    The car finally reached its destination.


    Looking out the window, there was nothing remarkable¡ªjust a parking lot.


    I waited for a bit before stepping out, noticing that the driver wasn''t going to open the door for me. Was he not allowed to leave the car?


    As soon as I got out, a man in a gray suit appeared from a long corridor, running toward me.


    "Sir! Sir!"


    Upon reaching me, he bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.


    "Sir, I''m sorry for the delay. I don''t know how, but the alarm system was disabled."


    "It''s fine¡­"


    Before I could finish, he grabbed my wrist with both hands, still half-bent.


    "You arrived just in time, sir. The general match is about to start. This way, sir, this way."


    He gestured toward the corridor, giving me the space to walk ahead of him.


    It seemed he knew the body''s owner didn''t like anyone walking in front of him.


    From the way he addressed me, I could tell he was a refugee, not to mention his accent.


    We soon reached an elevator, and to my surprise, instead of going up, we descended.


    Without a floor counter, I had no idea how far underground we went.


    When the elevator doors opened, they revealed a hallway lined with rooms. We entered one of them.


    It was clear these rooms were designed for VIPs, given the decor.


    A plush sofa sat in the center of the room, facing a wall-sized screen broadcasting a large arena surrounded by stands packed with cheering fans.


    The sheer size was unbelievable¡ªit felt like a football stadium, but underground.


    Once I sat down, the man took a seat beside me.


    "Sir, the mask."


    He extended his hand, holding a silver demon-faced mask.


    I took the mask and examined it, feeling an inexplicable unease. Was this a sign of something?You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Ignoring my thoughts, I put on the mask.


    It was uncomfortable and hard to breathe in.


    It felt as though I was drowning in the blood of my loved ones. What was I even saying?


    I turned to the man, expecting him to wear a mask as well.


    Without any warning, he snapped his fingers, the door opened, and servants entered, serving drinks.


    It seemed the mask was to hide my identity from them, and the man was the owner of this place.


    The man pressed a button beside him.


    "Begin now."


    He gave the order, and within a second, the announcer entered the arena.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, we are honored by the presence of the patron of this event. Let us all thank the Master in unison!"


    "Thank you, Master!"


    "Thank you, Master!"


    What childish behavior.


    Where were we, exactly? A school?


    "I remind you that this competition is unlike any before it. This match will continue non-stop until the Master is satisfied with the competitors'' performance. As for the prize, all I''m allowed to say is that the Master will grant you a new life."


    I''ll give them a new life? What is he talking about? Are they fighting for me to give them fake identities?


    Upon reflection, it didn''t take a genius to figure out that underground fighting was illegal, and the participants were likely criminals or fugitives.


    But granting them fake identities? That could only be done by someone of high rank.


    It was clear the body''s owner didn''t have that authority.


    Which meant the "boss" The young old man mentioned was one of the elite. But why recruit people in this manner?


    "And now, enough talking. Let the main feast begin!


    The first competitor is the man who has only been defeated by the Faceless One.


    A man who came from the jungle, whom I personally brought to you so he could satisfy your desires and drink the blood of his enemies before your very eyes.


    Even The jungle people couldn''t defeat him. Do you know who he is?"


    "Yes!"


    The crowd responded as if under a spell.


    "I can''t hear you. Do you know who he is?"


    "Yes!"


    "Then what are you waiting for? You know what to do."


    The announcer placed one hand under the elbow of the other, holding the microphone to mimic the shape of a snake, and began hissing.


    "SSSsss..."


    The audience followed suit, filling the arena with hissing sounds, turning the atmosphere into that of a snake''s nest.


    Once the announcer saw that the crowd was ready, he yelled with all his might while turning toward the entryway where the competitors would appear.


    "The Steel Cobra!"


    A giant masked man with bulging muscles, covered in tattoos wherever skin was visible, emerged from the smoke, running and leaping into the ring while saluting the crowd.


    "Cobra! Cobra! Cobra! Cobra! Cobra!"


    The crowd erupted in excitement, fully engrossed in the spectacle.


    Once they calmed down, the announcer continued:


    "And now, his fierce rival, the man who came from the same jungle.


    For your information, these two have been fighting day and night, but I captured them and brought them here just for your entertainment.


    Welcome... the Monkey Man!"


    In the same manner, a man of average height with a lean but slightly muscular build entered, wearing a mask shaped like a monkey''s face.


    Unlike his opponent, he wore suspenders. The moment he entered, the audience began taunting him.


    "Ooo! Ooo! Ooo!"


    "Just give up already, Monkey!"


    "Hey, Monkey! Look here! I''ve got a banana in my pants, but you''ll have to kneel to taste it!"


    "Haha!"


    Unlike the awe inspired by the Cobra, the Monkey Man was met with nothing but ridicule.


    I noticed the announcer''s bias too.


    He had created an elaborate backstory for the Cobra''s entrance, while the Monkey Man was merely shoehorned into the same story without any buildup.


    The sound of the bell echoed throughout the arena, accompanied by the enthusiastic cries of the announcer, signaling the start of the much-anticipated match.


    The Monkey Man shot toward his opponent like an arrow, his eyes gleaming with determination.


    He unleashed a flurry of rapid punches, left and right, like a storm of fists.


    But the Cobra, with a calmness that defied expectations, stood like a rock.


    With graceful and precise movements, he deflected every punch with his hands, turning the Monkey Man''s energy against him.


    All of the Monkey''s efforts were wasted, as though he were trying to hit a ghost.


    Realizing the futility of his assault, the Monkey changed tactics. He stepped back, and with a sudden twist, spun half a turn and launched a powerful roundhouse kick aimed at the Cobra''s head.


    The air whistled with the speed of the kick, which was far more precise and forceful than his previous punches.


    The Cobra now had two choices: retreat or block.


    With the pride of a warrior, he chose to confront it. In one fluid motion, he raised his arm to block the powerful kick.


    "BOOM!"


    The sound of the impact echoed through the arena.


    But the Cobra didn''t budge, as if the strike was nothing more than a gentle breeze. In a split second, he grabbed the Monkey''s ankle with an iron grip.


    The Monkey tried to pull his leg free, but it was no use.


    Desperately, he jumped on his other leg, attempting to deliver another kick to the Cobra''s head.


    The Cobra, as if reading the Monkey''s mind, bent slightly in an elegant motion. The Monkey''s kick barely missed his head, cutting through empty air.


    In one smooth motion, the Cobra yanked his opponent by the ankle, throwing him off balance.


    The Monkey desperately tried to grab onto the ring''s floor, but the Cobra was faster.


    Pulling him closer, he delivered a powerful punch that landed squarely on the Monkey''s face with pinpoint accuracy.


    "BOOM!"


    The sound of the punch reverberated throughout the venue.


    The Monkey fell to the ground with the Cobra towering over him. Despite his dire position, the Monkey summoned his remaining strength. Taking advantage of his opponent''s proximity, he lifted his head like lightning.


    "CRACK!"


    The sound of his forehead colliding with the Cobra''s nose shocked the audience.


    The Cobra staggered back, clutching his nose, now a fountain of blood.


    Seizing the moment, the Monkey got back to his feet and charged toward his opponent.


    But the Cobra, despite his injury, was still dangerous. With a sudden move, he launched a powerful kick that struck the Monkey''s face, forcing him back to the ground.


    "BOOM!"


    The Monkey tried to get up again, but the Cobra didn''t give him the chance. A final, powerful punch landed squarely, knocking the Monkey unconscious.


    The bell rang, signaling the end of the first round. The Cobra stood victorious, blood streaming from his nose, while the Monkey lay on the ground, engulfed in the darkness of defeat.


    "How many rounds does someone need to win?"


    Although I already knew the answer, I asked to pass the time during the break and extract any information.


    "It seems SIR doesn''t enjoy these types of sports, so you''ve forgotten the rules quickly."


    "I don''t remember trivial matters, I have a lot to think about."


    "Of course, of course, Sir. To refresh your memory, there are three rounds. To win, a competitor must claim victory in two."


    I nodded, pretending to understand.


    While I tried to think of a question that wouldn''t seem too direct, the man surprised me by speaking first.


    "My apologies, sir. The Faceless has yet to participate in any matches. I''ve tried to find information about him but to no avail. I apologize for my failure."


    "Faceless¡­ refresh my memory. Who is he?"


    Who was this Faceless now? They just kept coming.


    "Haha! It seems sir doesn''t hold anyone in high regard if you''ve forgotten the Faceless, the uncrowned king of the underworld."


    The uncrowned king of the underworld? Since when was there a king of the underworld, let alone an uncrowned one? What had happened to this kingdom to reach this level? I needed to find time to research this matter.


    Ever since I woke up, I''ve been jumping from one problem to the next.


    "I sent several men to inquire about him, but none returned. It wasn''t unexpected."


    Was he really that strong?


    If you ask about someone from the big families, your men will simply return.


    But if you ask about someone like this, expect them to visit you on a dark night to personally answer your question.


    I remembered reading that line on the internet.


    It had been the epitome of badassery.


    The sudden blurring of an alarm jolted me from my thoughts.


    The man quickly pressed one of the buttons beside him.


    A small screen descended from the ceiling, displaying the location where the car had been parked earlier.


    A man stood among the parked vehicles, glancing around as if searching for something.


    What made me frown was his outfit and the way he approached my car.


    The man next to me shot to his feet, yelling


    "Damn it! Police!"


    ***********Communicate with the audience**************


    Emiric: In your opinion, who will win, the monkey or the cobra? Let me hear your opinion.


    Author: You can''t hear them.


    Emiric: Let me read your opinion, are you happy now?


    Author: Almost, by the way, why are you suddenly talking to them?


    Emiric: Interaction is just interaction with the audience.


    Author: Are you trying to take my place?


    Emiric: of course not, haha


    Author: I''m watching you

 chapter 14: Restricted democracy in the Nameless Kingdom

    The Nameless Kingdom has always been strict when it comes to sports competitions.


    If you wish to organize any type of competition, you must adhere to the general conditions, which the public has dubbed as "impossible."


    The question is, why? Running, football, swimming, etc.


    The government justifies this by claiming that these activities are illogical and pointless, making citizens rely on their bodies and, over time, neglect their minds.


    The kingdom is in desperate need of minds, while physical strength is left to the army and specialized police forces, who have no need to participate in such games.


    I''m not joking.


    This period was mockingly referred to as "The Era of the Mind, Not the Body" by neighboring kingdoms, but now those neighbors are kicking themselves out of regret.


    Currently, in the field of technology, the Nameless Kingdom has no competitors.


    With the dazzling success of this policy, the restrictions tightened until sports competitions were entirely criminalized, leaving only academic contests as the sole legally sanctioned events.


    Anything else exists only in the underground world.


    Of course, you can practice any sport you want¡ªwe are a democratic kingdom¡ªbut out of concern that it might harm the kingdom''s values and future, you should only do so privately.


    Who has the means to set up a facility or hire a coach to train? If you''re rich, maybe.


    But even the rich aren''t foolish enough to pour their money into something that won''t yield returns.


    It''s better to invest in their children''s education.


    Bear in mind that the kingdom no longer supports trainers who teach such activities.


    So if you find one, expect a high cost.


    This doesn''t apply to the four major families or the royal family, who have the ability to monopolize such trainers entirely, allowing the gap between them and the general populace to widen further and further.


    I always felt nauseated whenever I heard someone from the People''s Council declare that the kingdom is democratic.


    In truth, the kingdom suffers from a split personality.


    "Sir, don''t worry. I''ll handle the situation."


    The man hurried out of the room, issuing orders to his men over the phone.


    "Absolute silence."


    I didn''t understand what he was talking about until I noticed, on the competition broadcast screen, the arena and stands illuminated with red lights¡ªa sign for absolute silence.


    Everyone, without exception, shut their mouths as if cutting off their own breath.


    I sat back on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other, relaxing as I addressed the closest maid.


    "Do you know how to make coffee?"


    "Of course, sir. Just a moment."


    She quickly bowed and darted off to fulfill my request, leaving everything else behind.


    I focused entirely on the screen, which showed the policeman weaving between parked cars, seemingly searching for something specific.


    Seconds passed before the man appeared in front of the policeman.


    The maid approached and placed the cup on the table before me.


    "What''s your name?"


    The maid looked startled, as if no one had ever asked her such a question before.


    "Zoe."


    "Miss Zoe, does this screen not produce sound?"


    She moved closer to the screen, and somehow, she pressed a button.


    Suddenly, I could hear the footsteps of the man who had reached the policeman just in time. Their conversation began, and I took a sip of coffee, enjoying the show.


    "What brings you here?"


    "What''s with the cold welcome? Can''t I stop by and enjoy a little fun, Mr. Sora?"


    "Don''t play games with me. Spill it."


    The policeman glanced around nervously, as if afraid someone might overhear.


    "I want more."


    Sora raised an eyebrow, expressing his displeasure.


    "The price matches the job, and I''m already paying plenty for you to simply close your eyes."


    "Look."


    The policeman turned theatrically, pointing to the side of his head, a provocative smile spreading across his face.


    "I have ears. Shouldn''t you pay me to shut them too?"


    Sora stepped closer to the policeman until there was no space left between them.


    "Where did you get this nerve?"


    The smell of alcohol hit Sora''s nose.


    "Are you drunk?"


    The policeman smiled again, a hiccup escaping him as if to answer Sora''s question.


    Realizing that the policeman''s courage came from alcohol, Sora stepped back.


    "If you want to raise your price, you''ll need to raise your value. Do you have anything useful to say?"Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "I''ve heard rumors that someone is funding suspicious activities. You know, and I know, what that means. I''ll try to mislead the investigation, but you need to warm my pockets."


    "We''ll talk about this after you sober up. Now leave."


    "Alright, alright. No need to be rude."


    The policeman raised his hands in mock surrender and shuffled away, barely able to carry his own weight.


    The coffee finished as their conversation ended.


    I placed the empty cup on the table, my hands resting on my knees as I analyzed everything¡ªfrom the policeman''s movements around the cars to Sora''s appearance and the constant shifts in his body language.


    The door to the room opened, and Sora entered.


    "Sir, there''s no problem. I''ve taken care of¡ª"


    I stood abruptly, anger coursing through me.


    "You took care of the shit! That scumbag wasn''t drunk¡ªhe memorized the car numbers. Send your men after him."


    Taking deep breaths, I paced the room, trying to calm myself, which left the maids visibly frightened.


    Only Zoe managed to keep her composure, though fear was evident in her eyes, just like the others.


    "Sir, I know him. He wouldn''t¡ª"


    My gaze landed on Sora, standing like a pillar, spouting nonsense.


    "Stop with the rubbish and send your men immediately."


    Finally, the pillar complied, speaking into his phone.


    "Everyone, move out. Bring me that officer now."


    He completed his orders and approached the screen, pressing a few buttons.


    All the external cameras appeared on the screen, showing the exits the officer might have used.


    But nothing showed¡ªonly Sora''s men running and searching everywhere, hoping to find something.


    One camera caught my attention.


    It showed the rear end of a black car with its taillights shining as it sped out of the frame.


    I moved quickly, grabbing Sora''s shoulder to bring us closer to the screen, pointing at the camera.


    "Zoom in and rewind the footage."


    Sora obeyed, his posture uncomfortable.


    "Zoom in on Camera 6 and rewind quickly."


    The camera filled the screen, and as instructed, they rewound the footage, revealing the target entering the black car before it sped off.


    "Can a policeman afford a car with a private driver? How much are you paying him exactly?"


    I moved closer to his face, and though my mask concealed any visible expression, my voice conveyed everything that needed to be understood.


    "Apologies, sir. It''s my mistake. Don''t worry, we''ll find him before he leaves the city."


    I stood up, releasing his shoulder, allowing him to straighten himself, though he was now drenched in sweat.


    Taking a deep breath, I cursed under my breath.


    No matter how much I tried to breathe deeply to calm my anger, my lungs felt like they might burst, and my fury remained unquenched.


    I returned to the sofa and sat down.


    "Zoe, another cup."


    "Yes, sir."


    Once again, she bowed and went off to fulfill her task.


    It seemed she was the only person here doing their job properly.


    "Start the next round. It had better be a good fight to calm my anger."


    "Right away, sir."


    He tried to sit next to me as before, to press the button to start the fight. But one pointed glare from me made his body tremble.


    Realizing it was a bad idea, he awkwardly stretched himself to press the button from where he stood.


    "L-Let the fight begin."


    Straightening up, he stood among the maids, embarrassment plain on his face.


    In the arena, the alarm and red lights faded, signaling the return of life to the crowd.


    "Ladies and gentlemen, many storms have passed, but the house has never moved once," the announcer suddenly began reciting poetry.


    "I won''t reintroduce them, as you already know them. Let the fight begin!"


    The bell rang, and with it, the crowd erupted into cheers, fueling the competitors'' spirits.


    Unlike the first round, this time, Cobra lunged forward with wide strides toward the Monkey Man.


    The Monkey Man pounded the floor as he moved like an actual monkey.


    Just as Cobra was about to punch him, the Monkey deftly dodged and retreated to his position.


    Finally, the Monkey Man utilized his strength¡ªspeed¡ªand exploited Cobra''s weakness¡ªhis sluggishness.


    The Monkey advanced, prompting Cobra to strike.


    The Monkey retreated, leaving Cobra expending energy for nothing. It was a smart strategy, but only in the short term.


    Cobra started showing signs of fatigue, encouraging the Monkey to abandon his cautious strategy and launch a punch toward Cobra''s head.


    Cobra caught the weak punch with his palm, surprising the Monkey, who realized Cobra had been feigning exhaustion. With his free hand, Cobra aimed a punch at the Monkey''s head. But the Monkey dodged with an agile leap, delivering a precise kick to Cobra''s ear.


    The blow threw Cobra off balance, allowing the Monkey to free himself from Cobra''s grip.


    Taking advantage of the situation, the Monkey began attacking Cobra''s body with kicks and punches¡ªhis stomach, shoulders, and legs.


    But Cobra''s brief loss of balance passed quickly, and the Monkey''s strikes lacked the strength needed to bring him down.


    The crowd cheered with enthusiasm.


    The Monkey knew his only hope lay in leveraging his flexibility.


    Cobra tried his best to land a single blow, but the Monkey kept dodging, rolling to Cobra''s blind spot, always behind his back.


    The Monkey''s attacks felt like an ant biting an elephant, but repeated strikes to the same spot, no matter how strong the body, would eventually wear it down.


    Everyone understood this, including Cobra, so he began retreating toward a corner, all the while attempting to strike the Monkey.


    The Monkey didn''t realize what was happening until it was too late.


    Using the corner of the ring, Cobra protected his back, preventing the Monkey from circling him.


    With no choice but to face him directly, the Monkey sensed danger.


    He stepped back, finding himself with little room to maneuver or dodge.


    Cobra remained in his corner, refusing to move, arms raised, ready for any attack.


    Meanwhile, the Monkey darted and leaped across the entire ring, his gaze locked on Cobra, hoping to find a weakness to exploit. But nothing appeared.


    They stayed in this stalemate, and the crowd grew restless.


    "Move your asses! I didn''t come here to watch a courtship!"


    "It''s the Monkey''s fault! Fight like a man and stop running away!"


    "What are you talking about? That''s his style! Look at that useless hunk of meat¡ªhe can''t even land a single punch. I don''t understand how he won the first round."


    Arguments erupted among the crowd, oblivious to the Monkey''s movements as he slowly crept closer to Cobra, trying to provoke him into leaving his corner.


    The Monkey came within six steps, throwing punches at the air in hopes of luring Cobra out. But Cobra remained unmoved, unfazed by the taunts.


    Each waited for the other to make a mistake, but their hopes were dashed when the bell rang, signaling the end of the round.


    "The second round is a draw."


    Cobra raised his hands toward the referee, protesting the decision, while the Monkey left the ring in silence.


    "Sir, I''ll head to my office. I have some¡ª"


    Before he could finish, I raised my hand dismissively, as if shooing away a dog, allowing him to leave while I focused entirely on the unfolding drama on the screen.


    Elsewhere, the black car stopped at the side of a dimly lit road, its undercarriage barely illuminated by the faint streetlights, indifferent to blending in with its surroundings.


    The driver sat expressionless, while the policeman beside him scribbled something on a piece of paper.


    Once finished, the policeman handed the paper to the backseat, where a figure sat shrouded in darkness.


    But the figure didn''t take the paper, leaving the policeman awkwardly hanging.


    Knowing it wouldn''t be accepted, he passed it to the driver instead, who also ignored him.


    Left with no choice, the policeman placed the paper on the seat and exited the car.


    "Sir, I''ve done everything you asked. They won''t let me live. Please, fulfill your promise. I made a mistake taking a bribe, but I''ve fixed it, haven''t I?"


    The policeman looked toward the shadowy figure in the backseat, seeking reassurance, but only the driver spoke.


    "The Sir said he''d send you somewhere safe, where no one can reach you."


    Though he would''ve preferred hearing it from the figure himself, the policeman accepted the driver''s words and began crossing the eerily quiet street.


    But out of nowhere, the enemy¡ªor perhaps the hero, depending on how you see it¡ªappeared.


    A delivery truck barreled toward the policeman at full speed.


    "BOOM!"


    I don''t know if his story will start in another world, but it''s certain that it ended in this one.


    The driver had spoken the truth¡ªhe sent him to a place where no one could reach him, quite literally.


    The driver turned almost fully toward the shadowy figure in the backseat, holding the paper in both hands and extending it.


    Finally, the figure moved, taking the paper and examining its contents.


    "You should clean your house regularly, or it''ll start to stink."


    With those words, the car sped off to an undisclosed destination.


    If I had been there, I would have recognized the figure without a doubt.


    ******************Objection words******************


    Emiric: Now this is bias.


    Author: What now?


    Emiric: I mean, author, why didn''t you let me experience the joy of meeting a truck head-on? Instead, you keep making random characters go through it.


    Author: Why are you talking as if it''s a theme park ride? Besides, we''re still in it. Want me to send someone to crush your bones?


    Emiric: Man, why do you take everything I say so seriously? Relax.


    Author: Is there relaxation after someone knows you?


    Emiric: I think you are suffering from a mental problem


    Author: Look who''s talking.

 chapter 15: I鈥檓 just going to dance with him

    What is the difference between an animal and a human?


    I''ve come across many online discussions, a few of which took a deep and complex turn. This question was one of them.


    I scrolled through the comments and found no answer that received unanimous approval except for one.


    It consisted of a single word, which left me stunned:


    "Order."


    I wished I could meet the person who wrote that comment, just to show them the scene unfolding before me and ask, Have you changed your mind?


    Deafening noise filled the air, accompanied by profanity so vile that even the master of obscenity himself would apologize and retire, leaving his throne to these savages.


    A mob of people who had left any sense of civilization at home¡ªassuming they even had one to begin with.


    They shoved and pushed, using their hands and feet to clear a path for themselves, disregarding any concept of seniority and ignoring a human invention called "the queue."


    All eyes were fixed on a single point.


    The moment one of the mob reached the front, he slammed his hand violently on the desk, his eyes blazing with fury.


    A single glance was enough to tell you that if his demand wasn''t met, someone would surely die.


    "Hurry up! Change my bet to the Monkey Man!"


    The clerk trembled in fear at his appearance and demeanor, her movements clumsy with panic.


    "S-sir, it''s against our p-policy to ch-change¡ª"


    As if he cared. He slammed the desk repeatedly and hysterically.


    "Move it, you useless bitch! The next round is about to start!"


    His outburst solved nothing and didn''t encourage the clerk.


    All it did was escalate her fear, impairing her thought process further.


    Tears began streaming down her face as her trembling hands struggled to respond.


    Her pitiful state, coupled with the mob pushing from behind, escalated the situation.


    "Bam!"


    A slap landed on the clerk, paralyzing her.


    Her tears stopped, not because the slap was effective, but out of sheer shock. She froze in her seat, unable to process what had just happened.


    No matter what the mob did, it was useless.


    Time was running out, and the pressure on his shoulders mounted.


    He knew there was only one solution: find the person in charge.


    He left the front desk, his gaze landing on an office with a sign that read "Manager."


    He charged toward it, leaving the clerk to endure the same situation with just a different face, a different mob.


    Sora sat relaxed in his chair, a cup of coffee on his desk. The aroma was still fresh, indicating it hadn''t been long since it was prepared.


    Amid the chaos outside, the calm inside the office had a distinct charm¡ªone that was shattered by the sound of frantic knocking on the door.


    Sora opened his eyes.


    "It''s starting."


    Sitting upright, Sora picked up his cup, pretending to take a sip, and spoke with lethargic boredom.


    "Enter."


    The bell rang, finally announcing the start of the last round.


    The Monkey Man wasted no time, charging at Cobra after noticing Cobra''s intent to repeat his defensive strategy to protect his back.


    Light, rapid punches rained down on Cobra''s body. With each hit, the Monkey forced Cobra to retreat step by step.


    But this time, the Monkey stayed vigilant, rolling to Cobra''s retreating side to prevent him from escaping. Cobra was now cornered, unable to attack or retreat, while the Monkey refused to let him catch his breath.


    "Cobra, you bastard, don''t lose! My family is counting on your victory!"


    "What''s wrong with him? He seems different¡ªdidn''t he get enough sleep?"


    "I bet all my savings on him. He''d better win, or I''ll be waiting for him outside."


    The curses from the crowd poured down on Cobra, eliciting a twinge of pity.


    Was he supposed to deal with the enraged crowd or the relentless Monkey Man, who refused to stop punching and kicking?


    The fight continued in the same fashion, and just as boredom began to set in, everything suddenly changed.


    Without warning, Cobra raised his arms to shield his head from the incoming blows, leaving his chest, ribs, and stomach completely exposed.


    The Monkey''s strikes, though moderate in strength and sometimes even playful compared to Cobra''s resilience, still had an effect.


    Repeated attacks on the same spot would inevitably take their toll.


    It was as if Cobra was telling the Monkey: Take your time.


    "What''s with this guy? Has he gone crazy from all the hits he''s taken?"


    "Is this fight staged or what?"


    "Now that I think about it, doesn''t this explain his inconsistent performance in the second round?"


    The crowd''s minds finally began to piece things together, but their thoughts didn''t last long before they were disrupted again.


    Punches rained down on Cobra. A reddish hue spread across his ribs and stomach.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    With every punch to Cobra''s arms, which were guarding his head, a tremor indicated that his endurance was nearing its limit.


    Cobra abandoned any attempt at offense, focusing entirely on defense, while the Monkey gave up evasion in favor of an endless onslaught.


    Seconds passed¡ªtwo, three¡ªand Cobra''s entire body began to falter.


    His legs and arms trembled, and sweat poured down like a waterfall. But he wasn''t the only one showing signs of exhaustion.


    The Monkey''s once-fast but weak strikes began to slow and lose power.


    Recognizing this, the Monkey shifted his focus to Cobra''s head, aiming for a knockout blow to end the fight.


    As if fate had heard his plea, a narrow opening appeared, painstakingly created over the course of the fight: a direct path to Cobra''s chin.


    The Monkey didn''t waste the opportunity.


    He took a step forward, crouching slightly, and delivered an upward punch aimed squarely at Cobra''s chin, slipping through the gap between Cobra''s elbows.


    The closer the punch came to its target, the more the Monkey straightened his back, adding power to the blow.


    Just as everyone thought the fight was over, Cobra finally moved¡ªand how he moved left everyone in stunned silence.


    Cobra abandoned his defense.


    Instead of avoiding the punch, he moved his head toward it.


    Yes, you heard that right.


    Using his abdominal muscles, Cobra leaned into the punch that was meant for his chin, redirecting it toward his forehead.


    "Boom!"


    The sound of something shattering echoed¡ªthe unmistakable crack of a bone breaking. But whose bone? The question was quickly answered as the Monkey clutched his hand, screaming:


    "Aaaah!"


    Overwhelmed by pain, the Monkey spun twice and dropped to his knees.


    His hand was a mangled mess, with fingers bent at odd angles, pointing in all directions.


    But was the fight over? Why turn your back on your opponent?


    As these thoughts crossed the Monkey''s mind, it was already too late.


    Cobra''s arms seized the Monkey from behind, lifting him into the air. And then¡ª


    "Boom!"


    The Monkey''s head smashed into the ring floor with devastating force.


    The world turned upside down for the Monkey. Seeing the inverted crowd, he realized he had lost.


    But once again, he found himself airborne, wondering: Is it not over yet?


    "Boom!"


    Once again, the world was upside down, but this time, his vision seemed blurry.


    Was it over? No. Once more, he found himself soaring into the air, only to crash down again.


    "Boom!"


    Cobra gripped his waist, lifting him like a sack of flour, and moved as if to toss him backward, yet without letting go.


    "Boom!"


    The Monkey''s head and neck smashed against the ground, but it wasn''t enough.


    Cobra adjusted his stance, realigning the Monkey to repeat the process.


    "Boom!"


    I lost count of how many times he did it. Was the Monkey still conscious? No. Was he even alive at this point?


    Cobra didn''t seem intent on stopping, which forced the referee to intervene, declaring Cobra the winner.


    The crowd was frozen in place, mouths agape, faces plastered with shock as they questioned: What the hell just happened? Wasn''t the Monkey winning just now? Wasn''t Cobra completely exhausted?


    For a moment, I thought their consciences had awakened, disturbed by the brutal scene they had just witnessed.


    But my dreams shattered when I heard their cheers:


    "Cobra! Cobra! Cobra! Cobra! Cobra!"


    They couldn''t care less about the defeated Monkey being carried out of the ring on a stretcher, unconscious.


    This is life¡ªso long as you''re victorious, people care about you. But once you fall, no one gives a damn.


    I stood after the fight, carrying with me a mix of emotions and a tinge of confusion.


    The fight was... simple, yet it left a strange taste in my mouth.


    It felt theatrical one moment, then painfully real the next.


    A strange feeling overwhelmed me, prompting me to leave the room.


    "Sir, do you need anything?"


    One of the guards, massive as the doorway, greeted me.


    The way he stood gave the impression that I was a prisoner, his body language reinforcing the notion.


    As if what had just happened wasn''t enough, I was bound to explode on someone today.


    "What if I don''t need anything, What will you do??"


    I stepped closer, every dark thought forming in my mind about what I could do to him to vent the frustrations of the past few days.


    "Have you lost your mind? How dare you speak to the Sir like that?"


    Zoe, the maid, intervened just in time, snapping me out of it.


    Damn it, what''s wrong with me?


    The guard stepped back, bowing in apology and opening the path for me to pass.


    "I apologize if I offended you, sir. That wasn''t my intention."


    I glanced at Zoe with a look full of admiration.


    She was sharp, unlike some of the idiots around here.


    From her actions, she understood that her master worked under me.


    Now that I think about it, why did he give me the mask until we reached the room? Because he didn''t want his men to know he was under someone else''s orders.


    Fine. The fewer people who know, the safer it is.


    I walked down the corridor, deep in thought.


    "Sir?"


    I turned toward the source of the voice¡ªZoe.


    "Sir, I can guide you to wherever you want to go."


    Was she trying to monitor me or earn points with me? It didn''t matter.


    I continued walking, extracting some information from her along the way.


    "How many floors are here?"


    "Six floors, sir."


    "And Floor 6 is for the stands, correct?"


    "Exactly, sir."


    "What about the other floors?"


    "Floor 1 is for betting. It''s also where President Sora''s office is located."


    He wants all transactions under his watchful eye, though naturally, this makes it a high-risk location.


    Floor 0 is the parking area, making it the first target for police or anyone looking to cause trouble. Confidence or arrogance?


    "Floor 2 is for security guards, and Floor 3 is for the fighters."


    To keep the fighters contained in case they decide to act up¡ªsmart.


    "And Floors 4 and 5?"


    "Those are for VIP guests."


    So I''m either on Floor 4 or 5.


    "Are there any other VIP guests now?"


    I looked around. All the rooms were closed, and there was no sign of anyone else on the floor.


    "No, sir. Both floors were reserved entirely for your comfort."


    We stopped in front of the elevator, which hadn''t opened yet.


    I turned toward Zoe.


    "Is there a problem, or am I trapped here?"


    Without meaning to, a chillingly cold tone escaped me.


    I was still suppressing my anger, but the smallest things irritated me now, and my eyes searched for any outlet to release my frustration.


    Was I evolving into the archetypal young master?


    "I don''t know, sir. It should open as soon as we¡ª"


    Finally the elevator opened, but contrary to my expectations that it would be empty, there was a girl inside.


    At first glance, you''d think she was a boy, dressed in men''s clothing and a green jacket, with a black cap trying to obscure her face.


    As soon as she appeared, Zoe rushed toward her.


    "No entry is allowed today!"


    Suddenly, it hit HER¡ªit was impossible for the staff managing the elevator to make a mistake. How had she managed to get down here?


    "Are you the sponsor?"


    The girl ignored Zoe''s questions and stood before me, her face stern.


    What was her problem? Could she be with the police?


    "What do you want with the sponsor?"


    "So, you''re him. I''m Roger''s sister."


    "Roger the pirate? Wait, who''s Roger?"


    Confusion swept across the girl''s face.


    She seemed to expect me to know her brother.


    Did the body''s previous owner know him? Was I supposed to? Her expression shifted as if realizing her mistake.


    "I mean, I''m the Monkey Man''s sister."


    The Monkey Man''s name was Roger? Zoe intervened, her instincts clearly kicking in.


    "It''s not permitted for competitors'' families to¡ª"


    "Shut up. I''m not talking to you."


    The girl cut her off, refocusing her attention on me.


    "Sir, you''re being deceived. The match results are being manipulated. My brother lost on purpose because President Sora pressured him."


    "What are you talking about?¡ª"


    I raised my hand, silencing Zoe before she could finish.


    From my analysis, the body''s owner sponsored this competition to discover and recruit talent.


    Why? I didn''t know.


    I had my suspicions.


    If what this girl said was true, it meant that bastard Sora was disobeying orders and jeopardizing the plan.


    Logic dictated that I should remain calm, verify the facts, and proceed with caution.


    But, but, but¡ªI hadn''t slept.


    Pressure from the old-looking Young man and his superior on one side, my wife and her family on the other¡ªeverything was closing in on me.


    I needed something to vent my frustration on.


    And unfortunately for him...


    I stepped into the elevator, gesturing for both girls to follow.


    "Can you control this box?"


    The girl pulled a laptop out of her bag.


    "Yes, sir. Which floor?"


    I answered calmly, for the first time since waking up, determined not to hold back.


    "Floor 1."


    She started typing on the keyboard, closing the elevator doors as it began ascending.


    "S-sir, this might just be a misunderstanding."


    "Zoe, stay behind me and don''t interfere."


    My tone made her bow her head, deciding not to say another word.


    "Sir, what are you planning?"


    The girl''s question piqued Zoe''s interest as well.


    I answered with my eyes shining, unfortunately they couldn''t see them because they were standing behind me.


    "Nothing too drastic. Sora and I are just going to have a little dance."


    ************A word with anger************


    Author: What kind of dance are you planning?


    Emiric: Not now, parasite.


    Author: I was just trying to offer some suggestions. How about Zumba or breakdancing?"


    Emiric: I''ll breakdance on your head if you don''t shut...


    Author: Alright, alright, seems like you''re not in the best mood today. Anyway, folks, what kind of dance do you think he''ll show us?

 chapter 16: Dance in the hallway

    In the narrow and long hallway, a man dressed as a guard stands.


    He looks utterly exhausted, clearly at the end of a long shift.


    Every day, he stands in the same spot, performing the same monotonous tasks over and over, until he begins to wish for something exciting to break the routine.


    But as the old saying goes: "Be careful what you wish for."


    "Ding."


    The elevator chimes, grabbing the guard''s attention as he waits to see who will emerge.


    His eyes widen in surprise when he sees a man in a black suit, his face concealed by a silver demon mask.


    Who else could it be? Of course, only fighters wear masks like that.


    Even the higher-ups aren''t interested in hiding their identities, especially after Mr. Sora explicitly warned the guards about the fighters.


    There''s no choice but to try to stop me.


    Every war has its casualties, doesn''t it?


    I move forward, stopping when the guard blocks my path.


    "You''re not allowed here. It''s best if you turn back¡ª"


    The guard doesn''t see my attack coming. He doesn''t even realize what hit him.


    All he knows is that, suddenly, he can''t breathe.


    He clutches his throat, desperately trying to grasp even a single breath of air, but it''s futile.


    He bends over in the hope that his condition will improve, but to his surprise, I grab his head with my bare hand and introduce him to my knee, which firmly meets his nose.


    "Thud."


    "Aaaaaah!"


    A scream escapes his throat as he crumples to the ground, one hand supporting his body while the other clutches his nose.


    It seems his nose is rather enthusiastic about meeting my knee¡ªI can tell because it''s now bleeding profusely from the excitement.


    Shock and disbelief fill the guard''s face as he tries to comprehend what just happened and how.


    "Lead me to your boss''s office."


    My voice snaps him out of his daze.


    He shoots me a look that seems to say, How dare you?


    It gives me the impression that he didn''t quite understand the seriousness of the situation.


    To help clarify, I grab him by the back of his head, forcing him upright, and land a hard slap.


    "Smack."


    I shove him forward down the hallway.


    "What are you looking at? Move!"


    He has no choice but to follow the order.


    Suddenly, an idea seems to strike him.


    He starts stumbling toward every door lining the hallway, shouting as he nears each one.


    "Attack! We''re under attack! Everyone, get out here!"


    His voice, like a siren, triggers a chain reaction. Almost every door bursts open as guards stream out, one after another, spotting me walking toward them.


    They''re about to advance when the first guard¡ªthe one with the overly enthusiastic nose¡ªstops them.


    "Wait! Grab your weapons first!"


    The guards glance at him with looks that say, Really, man? It''s just one guy.


    Naturally, someone has to be the first casualty before they realize how serious the situation is.


    The nearest guard, a hulking man brimming with confidence, steps forward.


    As soon as he reaches me, he raises his arm to throw a punch.


    I sidestep his attack with ease, moving lightly, effortlessly. He tries to convince himself it was a stroke of bad luck and takes another swing, only to find the same result.


    Frustration takes hold as he tries again and again, but it''s useless.


    I let him keep at it for a reason: the sight of him brimming with confidence is entertaining. Won''t it be even more amusing when that confidence shatters?


    Once the thought crosses my mind, the bloodlust in me urges me to put an end to his foolishness.


    One of his punches doesn''t return as he expects¡ªhe realizes I''ve caught his wrist.


    He tries to free himself with his other hand, but he''s either too slow, or I''m too fast. Who knows?


    I strike his trapped arm with my elbow.


    "Crack."


    "Aaaaah!"


    His scream sends shivers down his comrades'' spines as they watch him collapse, his arm clearly broken.


    With his will to fight completely drained and surrendering to the pain, I decide to show him mercy.


    Grabbing his long hair, I lift him with surprising ease, as though he''s a mere child, and begin to box his face with my fists.


    "Thud."


    "Thud."


    "Thud."


    With each punch, his blood splatters onto my mask and clothes.


    I don''t stop until he goes completely silent, a clear sign that he''s lost consciousness.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    He drops to the ground the moment I release his hair.


    Straightening, I face the other guards, who have one foot in the hallway and the other still in their rooms.


    Seeing what just happened, they finally heed the advice of the overly enthusiastic-nosed guard and retreat into their rooms.


    I wait, listening to their footsteps scatter as they re-enter their quarters, only for them to return moments later¡ªthis time armed with weapons of all kinds.


    I stretch out my arms as if preparing to embrace them.


    "Come on, I don''t have all day to play with you."


    Two of the nearest guards charge first.


    One wields a dagger, the other a relatively long sword, one coming at me from the right, the other from the left.


    The first aims for my neck, while the second targets my legs.


    If I dodge the one aiming for my neck, I''ll leave my legs unprotected, and vice versa.


    That''s their plan. It looks like I''ll have to sacrifice one, but who am I? The man who knows everything.


    I step forward, leaving them puzzled about what I''m doing.


    They realize their strategy creates a gap for me to slip through, but they don''t care.


    They let me pass, thinking the hallway is filled with guards anyway. What would I gain from evading them? I''d only trap myself further.


    Fools.


    As soon as I bypass them, one guard attempts to strike me, only to find that I strike first.


    He tries to avoid clashing with me because his weapon, a whip, requires space to be effective. His friend notices the issue and moves to assist.


    He tries to trip me up with rapid, monkey-like punches. But unlike a monkey, this guard is armed with spiked gloves, making his strikes deadly.


    Meanwhile, the previous two guards¡ªthe dagger wielder and the swordsman¡ªmove to surround me again.


    As I dodge the spiked punches, the swordsman swings his weapon horizontally, exploiting the blind spots on my back.


    Seizing the opportunity, the dagger wielder aims for my legs again¡ªseems he has a thing for legs.


    I grab one of the spiked gloves and pull it toward me, twisting slightly to avoid the sword, which ends up colliding with the glove instead.


    "Clang."


    The clash of metal sends a strange sensation through me.


    Damn it, not now.


    I quickly stomp my foot to steady myself and seize the dagger aiming for my leg.


    I take advantage of their momentary confusion at the unexpected outcome.


    A powerful kick sends the dagger wielder hurtling backward into the wall, his weapon left behind on the floor.


    Both the swordsman and the spiked glove fighter snap out of their daze and retreat. I crouch to grab the dagger in the same motion, and without hesitation, lunge at the swordsman.


    The spiked glove fighter notices my move and stops retreating to rush at me from behind, only to find me halting abruptly.


    The swordsman catches on to my trick and tries to stop to aid his comrade, but it''s too late.


    Because of my sudden stop, the spiked glove fighter attempts a desperate punch to my head, hoping his speed will save him.


    I duck under his strike, the dagger in my hand reversed, and in a half-circle motion, I draw a horizontal slash across his abdomen.


    As if that''s not enough, I deliver a kick, sending him flying toward the group of guards who, frozen by the speed of the fight and the cramped hallway, didn''t know how to act.


    As they scramble to catch their wounded comrade crashing into them, I take the opportunity to face the swordsman head-on.


    Quickly, he attacks me with horizontal and vertical slashes of his sword, hoping one of them will land while buying enough time for one of his comrades to reach him.


    As if I don''t know his intentions.


    I parried all his strikes with the dagger and took a few steps back, which made him feel more at ease.


    But then, a question forms in his mind: Why is he retreating? The other guards are behind him.


    The answer comes to him in the form of a flying dagger aimed straight at his head.


    I throw the dagger with such force that it pierces through the air, hitting its target with precision. At the same time, I launch my next assault on him.


    If that dagger had hit me, I''d be a dead man. With this thought racing through his mind, he raises his sword to block the attack, positioning it defensively in front of his face.


    "Clang."


    The force of the throw makes the sword tremble.


    As soon as the blade steadies, he snaps out of his relief at having saved his life, glancing at where I should be¡ªonly to find me gone.


    A sense of dread overtakes him, followed swiftly by the pain of a punch landing hard on his stomach.


    The blow is so strong that he drops his sword and begins coughing violently.


    No one ever taught him that a sword is the warrior''s honor¡ªabandon it, and you abandon your honor.


    As the other guards recover and begin advancing toward me, they stop again, frozen in terror at the scene unfolding before them¡ªsomething they''re not accustomed to.


    The swordsman is sprawled on the ground, taking punch after punch from me.


    When I finish, I stand upright, blood splattered all over me.


    As if the mask isn''t terrifying enough, the blood covering it and my suit gives the impression of a demon descending to earth, ready to drag everyone to hell.


    I lean down, grabbing the sword and giving it a few test swings in the air.


    "A decent sword. I think it''ll be perfect for chopping off some unnecessary limbs."


    I take heavy steps toward them, locking eyes with each of them, staring deep into their souls.


    They have no hope of winning, but of course, they won''t surrender easily.


    Even though they know they''ve lost, they still choose to take their chances.


    One by one, they charge at me, screaming as they swing their weapons.


    But all their efforts fail.


    A sidestep dodges their attacks, and with a simple slash of the sword, their limbs fall, their blood spilling as their cries echo through the hall.


    What do you want to see on the floor?


    arms? You''ll find them.


    Legs? They''re there too.


    Look closely enough, and you might even spot ears scattered across the floor.


    When all the guards are dealt with, I finally reach the overly enthusiastic-nosed guard.


    The gruesome sight has left him standing frozen, his face an expressionless mask like that of a mummy.


    I glance down and notice his soaked pants, wondering to myself: Is that what I think it is?


    Who cares? A slap lands hard on his cheek, pulling him from the nightmare world into the hellish reality.


    "Your boss''s office. Unless you want to be next."


    Unlike last time, when he still believed the guards might save him, this time he''s cooperative. He runs ahead, clutching his nose. As I follow him, I reflect on the fight.


    Their attacks had started to slow, giving me more time to think of countermeasures.


    Not to mention how stupid they were.


    The hallway wasn''t wide enough for more than two people to stand side by side.


    If two strong, coordinated fighters had stood together, it would''ve been difficult to defeat them. But that wasn''t the case with these guards.


    Sure, they were armed.


    The sword was a mid-range weapon, and the dagger was for close combat.


    Add in the whip-wielding guard from behind¡ªthey may not have been skilled with it, but why take the risk? That''s why I targeted him first.


    And in their stupidity, they thought it was a good idea to let me pass, believing their numbers would corner me.


    They didn''t consider that I''d exploit their disarray, mismatched weapons, and the narrow space to my advantage.


    "S-Sir."


    The hallway ends in a wide-open area filled with a chaotic crowd of people shouting and pushing.


    "At least give me some money to compensate for my loss!"


    "Damn my bad luck!"


    "Damn it, I lost everything! What do I do now?"


    One group is trying to recover whatever they can, another is pleading for loans, and a third is lamenting their terrible luck. But no one dares say they were outright cheated or that they changed their bets at the last minute.


    Why? Because they''d either be killed by the bettors or by the contest organizers themselves. Remember, there are no police here.


    "S-Sir, the boss''s office is over there."


    The overly enthusiastic-nosed guard points toward the office, drawing the crowd''s attention.


    They look at him, wondering, Who''s this crazy person who wants to file a complaint? But when they turn their gaze, they see the man holding his nose.


    Of course, that''s not what silences the chaos.


    Beside him stands a demon clutching a blood-soaked sword.


    I start walking, ignoring their looks of fear and awe.


    With every step I take, they part, clearing a path for me.


    Within moments, I reach the door.


    Truly, with power comes respect.


    I stab the sword into the ground and turn to the crowd.


    "No one is allowed to enter. Unless, of course, you want to die. Step away from the door. Now!"


    The crowd scrambles to obey, pushing themselves and each other back from the door.


    All eyes are fixed on me as they wait to see what I''ll do next.


    Will I knock politely like a normal person? Or simply open the door without permission? No one expects what happens.


    I kick the door.


    "BAM!"


    The force of the attack sends it flying off its hinges, crashing into the wall.


    Unbothered by the dust swirling from the impact, I step into the office, my eyes landing on a man drenched in sweat, terror written all over his face.


    "Mr. Sora,"


    I say with cold precision.


    "Would you care to join me for this dance?"


    ****************Words of praise for me***************


    Emiric: Did you see how badass I was?


    Author: I think everyone is aware of your ass.


    Emiric: Did you see my moves?


    Author: Yes, we read the chapter.


    Emiric: What about that kick? Did you see it?


    Author: Are you going to keep praising yourself the entire time?


    Emiric: And the way I threw that dagger, flawless!


    Author: Guys, I think he''s just going to keep going. Let''s leave him with his inner monologue.


    Emiric: Look at that move, it''s so smooth!


    Author:...


    Emiric: Ah, I''m amazing!

 chapter 17: What鈥檚 in the box?

    The noises from the rowdy crowd outside continued to rise, in stark contrast to the calm and quiet atmosphere of the office¡ªan atmosphere I was about to shatter.


    "Are you insane? How could you end the first round so quickly? Do you know who was watching your match?"


    Sora sat in his chair, sneering at the fighter standing before him¡ªCobra.


    Contrary to the commanding presence of his massive build, Cobra now stood with his head bowed, hands clasped in front of him, like a high school student being scolded by a strict teacher.


    "Luckily, he doesn''t know anything about fights. If he finds out, that new life you''re hoping for¡ªjust forget about it."


    Though Cobra stood there, enduring the reprimand, his eyes betrayed his disapproval of the words being hurled at him.


    If you looked closely, you''d notice his mouth twitching, as if he wanted to say something but was too afraid to speak up.


    His verbal skills didn''t seem to match his combat abilities.


    Sora was about to continue berating him when he noticed Cobra''s gaze drifting toward the door, as if sensing something outside.


    He was about to storm out wondering what was going on outside the office only to have a stack of papers thrown at him.


    He turns to see Sora''s angry face.


    "How dare you ignore me?"


    Cobra tried to explain himself, but Sora cut him off.


    "What? Do you think you''ve made it just because you won the match? Let me remind you¡ªI made you. Without me, you''re nothing."


    Frustration and rage contorted Sora''s face, all because Cobra''s momentary lapse in attention had been taken as a sign of disrespect.


    "Don''t rely on him too much; he''s an investor. Today, you''re useful to him. Tomorrow, he''ll toss you aside."


    Cobra bowed deeply in an effort to placate Sora.


    "I didn''t mean to, sir."


    "What do you mean, huh? What do you mean?"


    Sora continued throwing papers at Cobra as if the apology had only fueled his anger.


    Although Cobra''s mask hid his expression, his eyes and body language spoke of confusion. What did I do wrong now?


    "What? Do you have something to say?"


    Cobra straightened his back, realizing that bowing wasn''t helping.


    His mind, long unused to critical thinking, scrambled to find something¡ªanything¡ªthat might calm Sora down.


    Finding nothing, he resigned himself to more abuse, until once again, his attention shifted to the door.


    If Sora was a burning flame before, after repeating the same action he became an erupting volcano and was about to explode on him.


    BAM! BAM!


    Two loud knocks caused a cloud of dust to rise within the office.


    Sora waved his hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air and figure out what was going on, only to hear a voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar.


    "Mr. Sora Would you care to join me for this dance?"


    Before Cobra could fully process the situation, he realized I was standing right beside him.


    He instinctively began to move, only to stop in his tracks at Sora''s command.


    "W-what are you doing here, sir?"


    Sora started to step toward me, but I halted him with a raised hand.


    "Don''t move. Your spot is perfect."


    Confusion washed over him, but he obeyed the order.


    I took a moment to look at both Sora and Cobra, my hand on my chin. Both men stood frozen, exchanging glances while I pondered what to do with them.


    The quiet returned to the office.


    "I noticed you don''t use your legs much in combat,".


    "I rely more on my hands in fights."


    "Yes, I''ve noticed. It seems I''ll need to help you develop some new habits."


    I pointed toward the desk in front of them.


    Cobra and Sora followed my finger, both wondering why I was singling out the desk.


    "I want you to use both your legs and the desk to pin Sora against the wall behind him. Can you manage that?"


    Sora began to sweat profusely, realizing where this was heading.


    He opened his mouth to try and de-escalate the situation, but Cobra lifted his leg and kicked the desk.


    The force of the kick sent the desk flying as though it had legs of its own, slamming straight into Sora.


    THUD


    The desk crushes Sora''s legs, and his head hit the surface with a resounding thud.


    His nose was now enthusiastically bleeding.


    As he struggled to lift himself free of the desk''s weight, Cobra planted his foot firmly on its edge, pinning Sora in place.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "S-Sir, I can explain¡ª"


    "Oh really? Quickly then. What are you waiting for? Explain!"


    "I..."


    I grabbed Sora''s head with one hand.


    BAM


    His head slammed against the desk, and I held it there, ensuring he couldn''t wriggle free.


    "Well? Weren''t you about to say something? Speak up; I''m all ears."


    He tried to form words, but all that came out were muffled, incoherent sounds, thanks to his face being pressed against the desk.


    "What''s that? What are you trying to say?"


    I turned to Cobra and gave him a quizzical look.


    "Can you understand him?"


    Cobra, visibly uncomfortable, hesitated. How am I supposed to understand him when you''re smashing his face into the desk? Of course, these were thoughts he dared not say out loud.


    He''d seen the devil incarnate standing before him, and besides, I was the one who held the power to grant him the "new life" he so desperately wanted.


    "I... I can''t make out anything he''s saying, sir."


    I turned my attention back to the pitiful Sora.


    "See? I mean, did you hear? Even he can''t understand you. Have you had speech problems since childhood or what?"


    Sora weakly pounded the desk with his fists, silently pleading for mercy.


    Though I was still enjoying myself, I reluctantly let him go, fearing he might actually die if I continued.


    Gasping for air like a drowning man, he clutched at his desk, his face smeared with blood.


    With great difficulty, Sora stood upright, trembling from head to toe, his legs still pinned by the desk.


    "Sir, I made a mistake."


    "Good. And what mistake was that?"


    Sora froze, suddenly uncertain.


    Is he testing me? Or does he not actually know? The human psyche is a fascinating thing, isn''t it? Look at him¡ªjust a moment ago, he was willing to do anything for my forgiveness. Now that he suspects I might not fully understand the situation, he''s already scheming to deceive me.


    As if I can''t read his thoughts.


    The annoying part? He''s not entirely wrong.


    I don''t yet know all the details of his betrayal... but I will soon.


    I scanned the office, searching for something suitable for the idea forming in my mind.


    Just as I was about to give up, a small box sitting on the desk caught my eye¡ªa box like one meant for a wedding ring.


    I grabbed it and approached Sora, opening it before him.


    "What''s in the box?"


    My question left Sora bewildered. How could it not? The answer was the simplest thing in the world.


    "The box is empty, sir¡ª"


    SLAP


    The sharp sound echoed as Sora staggered, a cry escaping his lips.


    The pain from the slap was one thing, but not knowing why he was being slapped was far worse.


    "The box has a tiger in it. Don''t you see it?"


    Sora wasn''t the only one confused¡ªCobra, who had been silently observing without uttering a word, now looked utterly perplexed. What''s going on here?


    "Try again."


    Sora glanced at the empty box, unable to understand what I was aiming for.


    "Sir, the box is really¡ª"


    SLAP


    "The box has a tiger. Have you had vision problems since childhood or what? Look harder. Try again."


    Sora struggled to understand my intentions.


    He glanced over at Cobra, who immediately avoided his gaze, as if silently saying: Don''t drag me into this. Solve your problems yourself, brother.


    All your allies betrayed you, Richard.


    Sora refocused on the box, wishing I wasn''t wearing the mask so he could at least read my expressions.


    Then an idea dawned on him¡ªa simple one. He''s asserting dominance, he thought.


    He wants me to contradict what I see and accept his reality. Buoyed by his newfound understanding, he spoke with confidence:


    "The box has a tiger, sir¡ª"


    SLAP


    This wasn''t just any slap; I didn''t increase its force, yet I was sure it was the hardest thing he''d ever experienced.


    Having believed he''d cracked the greatest mystery of the universe, Sora was back at square one, completely lost.


    "You really do have a problem with your vision. Where would a tiger come from here? Not to mention how would a tiger fit in a box? Have you had thinking problems since childhood or what?"


    What''s your problem? First, you say the box has a tiger; then, you say it''s empty. Just kill me already¡ªwhy are you playing this game? Sora now felt on the verge of tears but held them back, fearing it would only complicate the issue.


    "Try again. Go on."


    A heavy silence filled the room. Sora decided the best option was to say nothing at all, but¡ª


    SLAP


    He couldn''t take it anymore.


    Tears streamed down his face, his cheek swollen, and his nose bleeding incessantly.


    "Is my question really that hard?"


    Suddenly, an idea flashed in Sora''s mind¡ªso simple, he doubted it could work. But what choice did he have but to try?


    "S-Sir, the box has whatever you want it to have."


    Each word was spoken hesitantly, with great effort, expecting another slap at any moment.


    But his answer brought no pain.


    Had¡­ had he succeeded?


    SLAP


    He collapsed onto the desk, barely conscious, before my voice and a reassuring pat on his shoulder revived him.


    "You finally gave the right answer. Good, good. Now let''s get back to the matter at hand."


    My words brought some life back to him, albeit with a hint of resentment. If I got it right, why did you slap me again? Do you enjoy torturing me?


    I turned to Cobra, whose terror was palpable as he stared at the demon standing before him. My gaze only worsened the situation.


    "You may leave. Wait for me outside."


    Following my orders, Cobra exited the room.


    He seemed about to close the door but then remembered there was no longer a door to close.


    He slipped away quietly.


    "I have a suspicion that you don''t remember the details of the agreement we made."


    "No, sir! How could I forget?"


    "Really? Then prove it. Tell me what we agreed upon. Come on, you''ve wasted enough of my time."


    Sora suspected I might be bluffing¡ªthat I was the one who had forgotten the agreement¡ªbut quickly dismissed the thought.


    If I try to deceive him and he catches on, I don''t know what he''ll do. He''s insane. Tortured physically and mentally, Sora chose to play it safe.


    See? These are the benefits of physical and psychological torture, so that some people wouldn''t think I was doing it for fun.


    From his long, tedious explanation, I distilled the gist: The body''s owner had invested in the fighting arenas¡ªalmost all of them¡ªto discover and recruit strong fighters.


    Why? Sora didn''t know.


    All he knew was that they had been promised a new life.


    Since most participants were fugitives or criminals, they were like dogs drooling over a bone.


    "And what did you do?"


    "Sir, I was just increasing your profits. It''s not like I was hiding any money from you."


    "Who cares about the scraps you''re digging up like a chicken? Do you think I''m as poor as you?"


    What''s with my animal analogies today?


    It''s easy for you to say that money is like rice to you. If you don''t care about money, why make a scene? Suddenly, his body trembled as he was overcome with the thought that I could read his thoughts because of my look at him.


    He tries to correct me.


    "Of course, of course. It''s nothing compared to you, sir. But¡­ but why?"


    He couldn''t help asking why he''d just endured the worst night of his life. Of course, being a refugee, there were likely worse nights in his past.


    "Still asking questions?"


    I stepped closer, making him flinch and retreat¡ªonly to be blocked by the wall. He couldn''t look anywhere but at the floor.


    "I¡­ I didn''t mean to¡­"


    Good. He was subdued.


    "So why did you rig the matches and make the Monkey Man lose on purpose?"


    "For¡­ for that?"


    "What? Do you think it''s nothing? Do you think I overreacted?"


    "No, no, sir. I wouldn''t dare. But I was giving everyone a chance. I wouldn''t dare disrupt your plans, but¡­ it seems you didn''t read my message, s-sir."


    Message? What message? Wait¡­ do I have a phone? I remember Hank handled the calls.


    But Hank doesn''t know about these fights, so the body''s owner must have had a separate device to communicate with both the old man and this idiot.


    "When you didn''t respond, I assumed you approved. It seems I was wrong. Please forgive me."


    "And what was in this message that justifies what you did?"


    "Sir, I uncovered the Monkey Man''s background. It was my mistake for not discovering it sooner, but I found it at the last minute¡ªpure luck."


    Pure luck? What? Could he be a cop or a spy for some rival faction? But why would he involve his sister in this? Something doesn''t add up.


    Is this fool lying to me? No, he''s been thoroughly broken. There''s no way he''s playing games now.


    "Spit it out. My patience is wearing thin. Who is the Monkey Man?"


    Sora swallowed hard, glancing nervously around the room¡ªparticularly at the door that no longer existed.


    His unease only made me more anxious.


    Is he from the Four Families? The royal family? Just the thought made my stomach churn. Please don''t do this to me. I don''t need more problems.


    "It''s the last descendant of¡­"


    Sora leaned in close despite his battered body, clearly desperate to keep this information from escaping the room.


    "He''s the last descendant of the Fallen Family."


    Curse me and my ancestors.


    At this rate, I''m destined to die from a heart attack.


    The Fallen Family? You''ve got to be kidding me.

 chapter 18: The Fifth Family: The Dirty Records of the Nameless Kingdom.

    There are countless rumors about either the royal family or the Four Families.


    Whether they are true or not doesn''t matter.


    You will not see the government intervening; what matters is that the kingdom endures.


    But what about rumors that pose a threat to stability¡ªthose that might incite chaos? Of course, you''ll see the government stepping in, and that''s only natural.


    That''s the way of the world; it''s the system of all kingdoms¡ªexcept the Nameless Kingdom. It will never intervene, no matter how dangerous the rumors are.


    That''s what they used to say. That''s what they used to do.


    I was like a scout wandering through forests and caves in search of treasures or ancient relics. The difference is, I wander through pages and articles in search of secrets and mysteries¡ªor at least entertainment.


    When the series end, I move to movies, then novels, then articles and news. That was my daily routine.


    Sometimes I find copper; sometimes I find gold and diamonds.


    One day, I began with excitement, eagerly awaiting one of the most crucial chapters of my favorite novel, only to feel sadness and disappointment when I discovered that the author had postponed it to another day.


    As a reaction, I delved into the depths of the internet in search of something to lift my spirits.


    After losing hope of finding anything enjoyable to read, an article appeared¡ªone that had been published only a minute before by its author.


    I clicked on it because of its strange title; I doubted anyone in the Nameless Kingdom could ignore it.


    The article was titled: "The Fifth Family: Fact or Fiction? The Dirty Records of the Nameless Kingdom."


    Some would click on it angrily because of the phrase "dirty records," while others would click on it with a smile, eager to learn the dirt on their kingdom.


    I was somewhere in between.


    I wasn''t blindly in love with my kingdom, nor was I so resentful as to wish harm upon it.


    I understood its reasons for sending children to their deaths just to capture their fathers and secure its future.


    But don''t expect me to be grateful while you put me through psychological and physical torment.


    The article was like a ticking time bomb.


    In short, it claimed that, in the distant past, there was a Fifth Family¡ªthe Blooddirty family¡ªthat was destroyed by the royal family with the help of the Four Families.


    I couldn''t tell if the article''s author wanted to oppose the royal family and revive the memory of the Fifth Family or if they sought to increase the troubles of those who remained from it.


    I say this because of the reasons the writer mentioned for the royal family''s destruction of the Blooddirty family.


    They stated that the Blooddirty family grew stronger over time, which led them to covet the royal family''s throne¡ªor at least, that''s the conclusion anyone would reach after reading two or three lines.


    They also described the current state of the family''s last descendants, highlighting their persecution.


    They are not allowed to work in any government jobs, such as the army or police.


    They are not allowed to engage in any kind of private economic investments in the kingdom.


    They have no healthcare coverage, and no profit-seeking organization is willing to deal with them, directly or indirectly.


    It is clear that this is a strategy by the kingdom to push them toward the underworld, so they can later point fingers at them and say, "Look at this corrupt lineage¡ªthey are animals who have no rights of any kind."


    I truly didn''t know the writer''s intentions¡ªor at least I didn''t know them at the time.


    Plainly put, they were uncovering dirt on both sides: the kingdom and its illegal measures, which contradict its proclaimed democratic slogans, and the Blooddirty family, which was unknown to the public.


    For the fanatical populace, if the family''s situation was dire before the article, it became worse afterward.


    The article was quickly erased, read by only about a thousand people, but none of them would doubt what they had read. That was the writer''s plan.


    I don''t need to say that investigators looked into the matter.


    Once the rumor turned into fact, they couldn''t announce any names because of the protection law.


    However, they hinted enough for everyone to understand.


    Numerous clips began circulating, showing groups of people throwing the dirtiest things at their faces, calling them descendants of traitors.


    I don''t know if the body''s owner can grant a new identity to others, but I''m certain it''s impossible to give a monkey-man a new one.


    It''s assumed the kingdom monitors their every move closely.


    I keep pacing in the office, my hands behind my back, while Sora stands trembling, his legs about to give out.


    "How could someone like him bow to your pressure and give up his only chance at living a normal life?"


    "S-Sir, may I sit down first?"


    "Of course, you can sit,".


    My words are a mask of cheerfulness placed on his face, only to fall off quickly as I continue.


    "the faster your responses are, the sooner your torment will end."


    He has no choice but to place his fingertips on the desk for slight support, granting some relief to his legs.


    I avert my gaze from his trivial movements.


    "I offered him a lot of money. He has a sick sister, so¡­"


    The scumbag used his sister''s illness to pressure him. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Well, he did the right thing.


    I bet the group tasked with monitoring him knows what he''s done but turns a blind eye because the situation isn''t critical.


    If the kingdom knew about my connection to him, it might change how it deals with me.


    It''s better to stay away from him, at least until I figure out my position and limits.


    I finally exit the room, followed by Sora, limping and occasionally pressing his hand against a wall for support.


    Cobra tries to offer him an arm as an apology, but he retreats as soon as I glance at him.


    The mob stands silently as I pass through, watching with hatred and mockery at Sora''s pitiful state.


    Sora swallows his embarrassment, thinking to himself, Enjoy it now. The sir won''t be here forever. Your fate is in my hands, and I will take revenge for every look you''ve given me.


    It''s only a matter of time before I reach the corridor¡ªa corridor filled with murmurs, pain, and cries of misery, not to mention the body parts scattered across the floor.


    For no reason, my heartbeat begins to race. I start to feel a kind of tremor throughout my body. I quickly turn toward them.


    "Look at my clothes¡ªthey''re filthy. Where''s the bathroom?"


    They look at me in confusion, as if to say, "You just realized that?" Sora shouts at one of the staff to guide me to the bathroom.


    Between reaching it and beginning to open the door, I hear Sora yelling:


    "Clean this mess up immediately and call the workers to sanitize the area. I want everything spotless by the time the sir gets out of the bathroom."


    I enter, indifferent to anything except what is happening to me.


    I stand before the mirror, staring at my terrifying reflection.


    Even I was startled. Quickly, I remove the mask from my face and toss it aside, turning the faucet on and sticking my head under the running water.


    It feels like side effects are surfacing from my excessive violence.


    Memories flash as I cut and break their bones.


    My whole body starts shaking, and I lose control over it.


    As water pours down my head, the questions begin to suffocate me.


    What have I done?


    How did I lose control of myself?


    Where did I get this cruelty?


    Where did I get this coldness?


    Once more¡ªam I the one controlling this body, or is this body controlling me?


    The water stopped, and with it, the cascade of unanswered questions. I stood upright, staring deep into my own eyes in the mirror.


    "What¡­ What are you looking at? you died while I still alive. I won''t let you take control of me."


    I stopped talking like a madman and tried as much as I could to remove the bloodstains from my suit.


    Some faded, but others clung stubbornly, as if determined to remind me of my guilt.


    I left the bathroom in surrender.


    When I stepped out, I was surprised to find the hallway as if nothing had happened.


    I walked through it, ignoring Sora''s gaze, which seemed to ask, "Aren''t you going to compliment me?" He has a lot of psychological issues.


    In the elevator, the two young women were stiff, their eyes closed and their hands over their ears, as if trying to erase what they had seen.


    I had forgotten about them in my bloodlust.


    I approached them, and with a gentle touch on their shoulders, they flinched and shuddered.


    "It''s over now. There''s no need to be afraid,".


    Although my words didn''t extinguish their fear, they at least steadied their footing.


    Sora''s eyes fell on the younger girl, and questions began surfacing in his mind.


    I looked at him with a gaze full of disdain.


    "A little girl who can penetrate your system¡ªdo you still want me to praise your work?"


    Naturally, he lowered his head in shame, avoiding my gaze.


    "Sir, does my brother still have a chance?".


    I looked at her, pondering her words.


    This was a dangerous ,very dangerous matter.


    "When your brother''s condition improves, we''ll talk."


    That was better¡ªno agreement, no rejection.


    At least not until I understood the general and specific aspects of the situation.


    "Thank you,".


    The elevator opened, and with a few steps, I reached the car, leaving everyone behind except for Sora, who followed me.


    "Sora, Zoe from now on, she will serve only me."


    "As you wish, sir,"


    He said as he bowed. His mind was overactive, undoubtedly concocting some sordid story, but I wasn''t interested in correcting it.


    He opened the car door, and I was about to get in when I changed my mind and turned to him.


    "Run and bring me a box, a lighter, and flammable materials¡ªquickly."


    The moment he heard the word "box," he trembled and stammered.


    "A-a box?"


    "Don''t worry. Just go quickly."


    Sora limped off, returning within a minute with what I had asked for.


    I placed the box in a specific corner, removed the cursed mask, and tossed it inside.


    I poured the flammable materials over it and ignited it with the lighter.


    Sora asked confused


    "Why, sir?"


    "I have a feeling it''s cursed. And like anything cursed in this life, if you don''t let go of it, it will control you. I just hope whoever crosses paths with it disposes of it quickly before they lose everything."


    With confusion etched on his face, Sora stepped back as I got into the car, which began to move again without a command from me.


    As soon as the car left, Sora collapsed to the ground, letting out strange noises from his mouth.


    Relishing the brief respite he thought was far off, he pulled out his phone, shouting.


    "Send someone to put out this fire."


    A guard arrived with extinguishers, finding Sora standing, his legs trembling.


    His pride wouldn''t allow him to be seen in a pitiful state, at least as much as he could help it.


    The guard approached and sprayed white foam, extinguishing the flames.


    Sora returned to the elevator, not bothering to wait for the guard.


    The guard, ensuring no one was watching him, started rummaging through the box.


    "These rich people throw away everything good. Fools,".


    It didn''t take long before he realized the box was empty, asking himself.


    "I saw something shining in the fire before I started extinguishing it. I''m sure it wasn''t there long enough to burn completely, and there''s no ash. Am I imagining things?"


    In the car, finally the signs of sleep''s visitation began to appear on me. We were honored by his heroine, the son of BITCH.


    Just as I began to sink into the depths of slumber, the car stopped.


    Damn it. Why must I interrupt my sleep just to climb to my room? I''ll sleep in the car.


    I quickly changed my mind¡ªI still needed to maintain the image of "the boss" in front of my subordinates.


    I was about to open the door, only to find it already open for me.


    The driver hadn''t left the car the entire trip, so why now?


    When I stepped out, I saw that the person opening the door was a man in a white coat.


    Was he a doctor? Glancing around, I noticed this wasn''t the mansion or a hospital. It was an animal shelter. What was I doing here?


    "Sir, welcome back,".


    I looked back at him¡ªa young man with a smile on his face.


    Even though I was half-conscious from exhaustion and lack of sleep, I could still tell that his smile was genuine.


    "Sir, quickly, there''s a surprise,"


    He seemed eager, walking quickly ahead of me before realizing his mistake. He stepped back apologetically.


    "Sir, forgive me for my lack of focus. I was too excited to show you."


    "It''s fine. You can lead me to whatever you want to show me, but quickly¡ªI''m a bit tired."


    He seemed surprised by my lack of anger, but he justified it to himself as being due to my apparent exhaustion.


    He resumed leading the way.


    From one corridor to another, it was indeed an animal shelter.


    What was the body''s owner doing here? All my questions were answered the moment we reached the last corridor.


    By now, I had gotten used to it¡ªanswer one question, and you''re greeted with a dozen more.


    The corridor was lined with rooms resembling solitary confinement cells.


    Each had a transparent window, revealing what was inside. The man walked up to one of the rooms and lifted the cover so I could see.


    "Sir, we did it. See for yourself."


    I glanced into the room.


    My eyes widened, my pupils contracted, and my heart raced, banishing all my exhaustion and drowsiness.


    How could they not, when before me lay the strangest thing I''d ever seen?


    Inside was a creature like no other¡ªa fusion of animal and machine, as if technology and nature had finally agreed.


    It had glowing blue eyes, a body covered in soft fur interwoven with metal wires and electronic devices, sparking occasionally.


    Its movements were smooth and elegant, contrary to what its appearance suggested.


    Without taking my eyes off it, I unconsciously asked.


    "What is that?"


    "The serum worked, sir. This is just a sample¡ªthere''s more."


    The man darted past me, opening the transparent windows of all the rooms with the press of a button, revealing what they hid.


    I looked into each room, one by one, and with every creature I saw, every hair on my body stood on end, my skin drenched in sweat.


    My heart raced, and my chest felt as though it could no longer contain it.


    Suddenly, my steps halted as a single word emerged in my mind: serum. Silence engulfed my thoughts.


    Didn''t the old-LOOKING young man say that I took the serum?


    Super powers.


    This world has supernatural powers.


    Does this body have superpowers?


    ***********


    Emiric: So, this is the kind of story I''ve landed in. Mystery, dark fantasy, a pinch of psychological chaos¡ªtopped off with political drama. Naturally.


    And of course, the classic ''Am I losing my mind?'' trope. Hero, villain, or just the guy who signed the wrong contract? Feels about right.


    Oh, and the animal shelter bit at the end? Really? What''s next¡ªa parrot spilling the kingdom''s darkest secrets? Sure, let''s go there. Add it to the list.


    Meanwhile, readers are probably nodding, sipping their coffee, thinking, ''Wow, he''s profound.'' No, Karen. I''m just exhausted.

 chapter 19: Is this the beginning of the end?

    His head was engulfed in flames, his fur glossy black. He stood on all fours, but every now and then, he would rise onto his hind legs like a human. You''d expect screaming and chaos from him because of the flames consuming his head, but no matter how long you waited at the door of his cell, it never happened.


    "This, sir, is a hybrid dog. It took a long time for the serum''s effects to show on him. He''s remarkable, isn''t he, sir?"


    I looked at the doctor, pride gleaming in his eyes.


    Honestly, I couldn''t blame him. This changes everything¡ªliterally, everything.


    I continued inspecting the cells once I gathered my emotions and collected my thoughts.


    A bat the size of a human with glowing red eyes.


    The moment our gazes met, it bared its sharp fangs and glared at me as if sizing me up for a threat.


    I thought it would attack me, but it seemed its instincts told it that was a bad idea, and it retreated to the farthest corner of its cell.


    "Very strange. Whether it''s because of me or Mr. Dahi, as soon as we step into the hallway, it starts screaming and trying to attack us. We''ve noted in its file that it''s of low intelligence. Could it be that it''s beginning to develop reasoning? I must write this down."


    Without warning, he pulled out a device resembling a computer from his pocket, though it was the size of a phone, and began pressing its buttons furiously.


    He gave off the impression of a mad scientist from old movies, with thick glasses and features radiating obsession.


    I tried to avoid him as I continued my exploration.


    Bats were terrifying enough at their small size¡ªimagine them the size of a human.


    The doctor noticed my unease and hurried to join me.


    It was clear that there was a serum responsible for this madness happening here.


    It also became evident that this doctor was quite young, making it hard to believe he''d been entrusted with running this facility.


    From his mention of someone named Dahi, I decided to extract more information.


    "Where is Dahi now?"


    "Ah, Mr. Dahi. It seems he''s been suffering from a health condition. I''ve contacted him several times, and he said he''ll resume his duties once his health improves."


    His illness coincided with the time I was absent. A curious coincidence.


    "Are you the only one in charge here?"


    I raised an eyebrow at him, signaling my disbelief, and he took the bait.


    "you Excellency trusts Mr. Dahi and entrusted him with this great secret. I was the brightest and closest of Mr. Dahi''s students, so he entrusted me with this secret that will change humanity forever. Rest assured, sir, I am wholly committed and responsible."


    He knows how to sell himself.


    Of course, there are those skilled in selling dreams and words, but the sincerity I saw in his eyes told me everything.


    "Alright, let''s test how diligent you are in your work. I''ll ask you some questions; it''s best you don''t embarrass your mentor."


    "Sir, please begin. I''m ready."


    He bowed confidently, sure he could answer.


    I hoped he could. He thought I was testing him, but in truth, I was interrogating him.


    "Where does the serum come from?"


    A calculated expression appeared on his face, as if it were a trap he wouldn''t fall into.


    "No one knows, not even Mr. Dahi. It is you, sir, who provides it. We are not to question matters that don''t concern us."


    It seemed to me that this was a rule instilled by Dahi, and it reflected on this young man. Not a bad policy, but it didn''t help me.


    My simple analysis suggested that the serum came from the old-looking young man, which was troubling.


    "What are the properties of the serum?"


    A look of pride appeared on his face again.


    He seemed to have had a stellar academic journey that fueled this pride.


    Instead of giving me a concise and meaningful answer, he launched into the most detailed explanation you could imagine, as if ensuring a perfect score in a science exam.


    "The serum contains a unique combination of nanomaterials and modified genes. This is just my analysis since you, sir, have prohibited us from analyzing it in detail.


    The serum doesn''t grant a specific fixed ability but instead offers the potential for any extraordinary ability. It takes some time for these abilities to manifest, but no matter how long it takes, they are inevitable. Here are the serum''s characteristics:


    Unique Genetic Interaction


    The serum interacts with the subject''s fundamental genes, resulting in the development of unique superpower abilities for each individual.


    The abilities can vary significantly.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Gradual Transformation


    The emergence of abilities starts gradually; it might take days or weeks for them to become evident.


    The transformation is painless but requires an adaptation period. Abilities typically begin to manifest after at least seven days, though it can take longer.


    Ability Diversity


    There is no fixed pattern to the acquired abilities, meaning every individual can develop completely different powers.


    The abilities can range from enhanced senses to flight.


    Ability Stability


    Once abilities appear, they become a permanent part of the individual and cannot be lost.


    The acquired abilities are stable and can evolve over time.


    Self-Healing and Regeneration


    The serum enhances the body''s self-healing capabilities, allowing wounds and injuries to heal much faster.


    It can stimulate the regeneration of lost tissues, giving the subject the ability to recover from severe injuries."


    After he finished his explanation, I looked at him, trying to absorb all this information.


    Though I had only wanted a quick and simple answer, I couldn''t help but admire what this could accomplish.


    "How much serum do you have left?"


    I asked, hoping they had something I could examine.


    "No, sir, we''ve been waiting for your appearance to provide us with more samples, but..."


    I nodded to signal understanding, cutting him off. Should I ask the old-looking young man to give me more samples? How should I contact him?


    "Ah, I just remembered, sir! There''s one dose left."


    My hopes rose as he quickly gestured for me to follow him. It took only about five minutes to exit the hallways. This place was enormous, making me wonder how many animals were here.


    No¡ªhow many super animals were here?


    We approached a metal staircase leading to rooms resembling control rooms in factories. Upon reaching the top, I could see an overview of the corridors.


    They weren''t just corridors but a maze of cages and cells designed to contain terrifying creatures.


    It seemed they chose this design to facilitate moving and hiding them in case their activities were exposed.


    The cages resembled towering boxes, not reaching the ceiling, leaving room to build more above them.


    Just thinking about it makes my body shiver.


    "Sir..."


    The young man''s voice from the room snapped me out of my nightmares. I entered.


    Did I say room? I take it back.


    It was a laboratory building.


    The body''s owner was truly terrifying. The more I discovered about him, the more fearful I became.


    He bought an animal shelter only to turn it into a testing lab.


    As for the kingdom, it is sleeping on its belly, waiting for the impaler to enter...


    Damn it, what am I thinking?


    The young man approached one of the cabinets, his movements hinting that something was wrong.


    First, he went to a specific spot to retrieve it. Suddenly, he started searching more widely, expanding his search from cabinets to shelves, to anywhere his eyes landed.


    Sweat began to trickle down his forehead, tension contorting his features. The pride on his face faded, replaced by fear.


    "Stop panicking and tell me what''s going on."


    He bowed his head, the embarrassment clear in his tone.


    "I¡ªI can''t find the serum."


    All sorts of dark thoughts started flooding my mind.


    Was it stolen? Lost? How could something this important go missing?


    "Where could it have gone?"


    His eyes darted in every direction, and his fingers fidgeted nervously like a girl about to confess her love.


    "I¡ªI think Mr. Dahi took it with him."


    Damn it, don''t tell me he''s done what I''m afraid of.


    My gaze swept across the room.


    "How many test samples do we have?"


    I stepped out to take another look at the maze without waiting for his answer.


    "There are about 20 samples. All of them tested positive for abilities, but I''d say only three of them possess truly terrifying powers."


    I turned to him, my face full of shock.


    "All these animals, and you''ve only given the serum to 20 of them?"


    "Sir, we gave the serum to around 100 animals, but we were only able to control 20 of them."


    Damn it. Of course, giving power doesn''t necessarily mean controlling it.


    Many of humanity''s greatest disasters were caused by humans themselves.


    "Are you saying the current samples are under control?"


    "No, there are samples we can control, whether through torture, food, or confinement, like the giant bat."


    I descended the staircase, heading toward the exit. Naturally, I couldn''t shake the gazes that seemed to seep out from the creatures that were supposed to belong to me.


    Now I stood either at the gates of paradise or the brink of hell.


    Things like this can ruin their owner if not properly managed.


    Where did this serum come from, and why is it appearing now? Could it have something to do with my reincarnation into this body?


    I couldn''t help but dwell on the matter.


    This world had never seen superpowers before, and suddenly I reincarnate into this body, and superpowers emerge.


    When I consider all the possible reasons for this, I can''t help but feel fear.


    I''ve read many novels and am familiar with most plotlines, and even the simplest of them result in destruction and chaos.


    I was really starting to convince myself that this world might be nothing more than a game or a novel, and I was just a character being moved by some deranged author.


    Hey, author, are you there?


    (The author: What do you want? Oh, right, you can''t hear me.)


    My train of thought was abruptly halted by the sound of the car door opening, courtesy of the doctor.


    Before I got in, I turned to the young man.


    "What was your name again?"


    "Thomas, sir."


    If this world is a story, then let me say this: the author lacks creativity.


    (The author: Patience is an art, and I''ve mastered it. Just wait.)


    I got into the car, ignoring everything else.


    I think that''s enough for today, isn''t it?


    I rested my head on my hand, staring out at the view.


    But due to the pitch-black darkness, all I could see was my own reflection, as if I were looking into a mirror.


    Once again, I found myself lost in thought.


    I had thought they were bold to antagonize the kingdom, even assuming they were just a bunch of fools digging their own graves.


    But now, if you have the ability to create an army of superpowered beings and don''t plan to rule a kingdom¡ªno, the world¡ªyou''re the real fool.


    I was starting to think it wouldn''t be a bad idea to stand with them rather than with a kingdom destined for collapse.


    Well, it''s not that simple, and it''s clear that the Boss the old-looking young man mentioned is not an easy person.


    If he were reckless or foolish, he would have been eliminated long ago. But he''s cunning, and it''s obvious he''s not planning to rush things.


    He wants me to control the economy while recruiting some fighters.


    New life is a superpower.


    After this analysis, I felt like the dark surroundings were finally illuminated.


    The car came to a stop, and I placed my hand on the door to open it.


    "Sir, what should I do with the body?"


    The driver, who hadn''t spoken a word the entire time, chose this moment to speak, and I just wanted to curse him. A body? Whose body?


    "What body are you talking about?"


    "¡­.."


    I noticed his silence before he suddenly answered cryptically.


    "Understood, sir. I''ll handle it."


    I couldn''t take this anymore.


    Just when I thought the path had been made clear, he throws a smoke bomb and leaves me confused all over again.


    "It seems you''ve forgotten my orders."


    Though darkness surrounded us, obscuring everything, I could still sense his trembling.


    "Of course, sir. I remember your orders perfectly."


    "Repeat them to me in detail."


    I know this method is overused, but it''s worked for me before and still does, so why abandon it?


    "In response to you, sir, I killed Number Two as ordered and didn''t step out of the car to mislead the person watching us."


    Did the body''s owner order him to kill Number Two? Why? Is that why he didn''t open the door for me¡ªbecause he was following orders to avoid being identified by the watcher?


    It''s him, the old-looking young man. Who else could it be?


    "When the sir was in the arena, I confirmed he had stopped watching us. And as ordered, once he stopped, we headed straight to the animal shelter."


    The body''s owner was injecting animals behind their backs.


    Wait, wait, wait.


    If I am an enemy of the kingdom, am I an enemy of the Boss as well?


    So, who exactly do I work for?


    Don''t say I''m working for myself.

 chapter 20: everybody wants to be my enemy

    Just fuck it, yes, you heard me.


    fuck everything.


    "What''s wrong with Sir these days?"


    "He seems a little different since he came back from the hospital."


    "I don''t know, but I caught a glimpse of him, and you wouldn''t believe what I saw him doing in the kitchen."


    The servants, male and female alike, all moved closer, eager to find out what was going on in the mansion. No one could blame them; they had worked in this place long enough to know that loud music was unheard of. The mansion, often nicknamed "The Ghost Palace" due to its eerie quietness, never saw such noise unless there were guests, and even then, it was rare.


    "He''s... he''s dancing to the rhythm of music while cooking."


    Everyone gasped at once as if they had rehearsed it.


    "Impossible!"


    "Stop imagining things! We''re talking about Sir here."


    The servant turned to her colleagues, her expression full of bewilderment.


    "Am I saying something crazy?"


    Her eyebrows arched downward in frustration. How could she not feel insulted after being doubted?


    "How about you go and take a look yourself?"


    The hesitation on the servant''s face didn''t escape her notice.


    "What if I told you that if you look and find out I''m wrong, I''ll take your shift for a week? But if I''m right, you''ll take mine."


    Suddenly, his hesitation disappeared. He seemed confident it was impossible for his Sir to be dancing and cooking at the same time.


    He took long strides under the watchful eyes of all the servants. Some praised his bravery, while others thought he was a fool walking into his doom.


    Reaching the kitchen door, he began to open it slowly. Only a sliver of space allowed one eye to see through, and what he saw widened it in shock.


    Everyone gathered behind him, waiting for him to report what he saw.


    "What do you see?"


    No response came, heightening their anticipation.


    "Speak up, quickly!"


    Their patience wore thin. Someone nudged him, causing him to lose his balance and fall, dragging the others with him, which flung the door wide open. The scene revealed me, wearing a kitchen apron, holding a spoon, and moving my lips to the lyrics of the song while swaying my body with effortless grace.


    Too stunned to process what their eyes saw, they forgot to get up and remained sprawled on the floor.


    I hadn''t noticed them. And even if I had, fuck it all.


    This had always been my method when stuck on a difficult story plot. I''d head to the kitchen, blast music at full volume, and start cooking while dancing. That''s when my brain worked at its peak. Oh, by the way, if you looked closely, you''d notice a cigar on the corner of my mouth.


    Yes, a cigar. It turned out the previous owner of this body had been addicted to two things, and the first was blood.


    His thirst for blood, sleep did not begin to visit me until after the hallway incident.


    After I returned from my adventure yesterday, of course because of what I discovered, I went back to sleep until I noticed a small box. When I opened it, the scent triggered something in me, and after finishing one cigar, I slept like a baby.


    It''s ironic. Someone like me, who used to cough as if dying whenever a car passed by, was now a smoker. I''m genuinely curious about how many things I''ll end up doing that I never imagined.


    "Have you all lost your minds or what?"


    Trembling was followed by chaos as they scrambled to their feet, frantically trying to straighten their wrinkled clothes.


    They turned toward the voice behind them.


    "Ma''am¡­"


    They ran as soon as they finished bowing. It wasn''t wise to get caught in the crossfire between spouses.


    I grabbed the spices and, with a playful toss, passed them from one hand to the other, adding a sprinkle to my dish. But my fun was abruptly cut short when the music stopped.


    Annoyed, I turned to look at the device, my expression reflecting my irritation. Who would dare interrupt me? Who else but Ivana.


    "How do you allow yourself to appear like this in front of the servants?"


    As if I hadn''t heard a word, I turned my back to her, focusing entirely on finishing my great dish.


    "Stop ignoring me. We need to talk. It''s urgent."


    The word urgent piqued my interest slightly, but not enough to abandon the great meal nearing completion.


    She moved closer, grabbing my arm in an attempt to force me to face her. Though it was impossible for her to budge me even an inch, I let her feel a small victory by loosening my posture so our eyes could meet.


    She realized how close we were and took two steps back, leaving some empty space between us.


    The cold expression on her face bore no trace of the overly emotional woman from yesterday. Sweetly murderous or, rather, murderously sweet.


    Some might find such a contrast intriguing, but I wasn''t one of them. If I couldn''t read her emotions, I simply couldn''t trust her.


    Well, given my psychological issues, even if I could read her, trust was still impossible.


    "What''s so urgent? Hurry, the great meal is still on the stove."


    No response. Her face betrayed no reaction, even though I had exaggerated my words in an attempt to crack her facade. This only deepened my curiosity about what had happened to her yesterday to bring forth such a flood of emotion.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "The banquet date has been set. We''ll leave in two months. We need to prepare ourselves. Even though you''ve lost your memory, with me by your side, we''ll manage."


    I gave up trying to read her thoughts. Turning away again, I focused on my great cooking.


    "I assume this banquet has something to do with your family?"


    "Of course."


    "And did I say I''d go?"


    "Of course, we agreed on it."


    "That question wasn''t for you, Hank."


    Out of nowhere, Hank appeared by the door. Ivana turned toward him with a blank expression.


    "You didn''t inform me of anything, sir."


    "It''s obviously not to tell him something this important. This is between us."


    "Hank, do you have a response to this?"


    His expression revealed reluctance to intervene. After all, this was between a husband and wife. But he had no choice.


    "There''s a schedule listing all the Sir''s activities. From my review, it doesn''t include anything about a family banquet, ma''am."


    "Ivana, my wife, do you have a response to that?"


    "Do you really think you tell him everything?"


    I turned to her, resting my hand on my chin¡ªa habit I had developed whenever I wanted to give the impression of deep thought, even if I didn''t actually need to think.


    It was obvious. The body''s owner hadn''t been sharing everything with Hank, and the same applied to Ivana.


    But the idea of walking into the lion''s den right now didn''t seem wise.


    I returned my focus to the greatest dish ever prepared, the most important thing at the moment.


    "We were specifically invited. Do you really want to¡ª"


    I turned to her quickly, scooping up a spoonful of the world''s greatest dish and shoving it into her crimson-red lips.


    Caught off guard, she clasped her beautiful hands over her mouth, struggling to swallow what had invaded her forbidden space.


    Wait, no, not that space. I confused the two. Well, does it even matter? I mean, don''t they both¡ªthe same thing enter them?


    Damn it, what am I even thinking?


    After swallowing and catching her breath, she straightened up. Damn, what do I need to do to extract some sort of emotion from her face? Should I... No, I can''t, stop my mind.


    (Author: Pervert. It''s him, not me.)


    "How does it taste?"


    "Tasteless. Completely flavorless."


    "You have the same problem, my dear."


    I picked up the plate containing the greatest dish humanity had ever known and left the kitchen, heading to the dining area¡ªthe same place where she had broken down before.


    I took a seat at the head of the table. Why do the wealthy always buy these ridiculously long tables? In the end, only two or three people sit at them, at most.


    Ivana sat beside me, and naturally, Hank stood like a lamppost nearby.


    "Is there something important you want to tell me?"


    I didn''t want anything interfering with my enjoyment of the greatest meal humanity had ever known. Yes, I confirm and repeat¡ªwhat I had prepared was the culmination of years of cooking expertise.


    "In response to you, sir,The Investigation office has already called, as I expected. They''re on their way, sir."


    "Good. Make sure everyone stays sharp. I don''t want any mistakes."


    "Of course, sir."


    I was about to take my first bite when Ivana interrupted.


    "The Investigation office ... I should be with you."


    I glanced at her in confusion.


    "Is our marriage public knowledge?"


    It was natural for her family to know I existed. What surprised me was how they had let her marry the kingdom''s most-wanted enemy¡ªor at least, that''s what the media reported. They might know I was married, but it was impossible for them to know who my wife was. Regardless of its authority, the office couldn''t bypass the Protection Law.


    "Of course not."


    "Then why suggest such a foolish idea?"


    "It would be foolish to leave a man with amnesia alone with someone from the office ."


    She shut me up. Fair point.


    She looked at Hank.


    "Are you really going to let him do whatever he wants?"


    My eyebrow raised involuntarily as I tapped my finger on the table, drawing her attention back to me. Setting the cigar aside, I spoke firmly.


    "I decide."


    "I say what happens."


    Each word was punctuated by a stronger tap on the table.


    "I allow and forbid."


    She kept her cold gaze fixed on me. I felt anger boiling in my chest, but fortunately, Hank intervened.


    "The Sir''s orders are final here. Ma''am means no disrespect; she''s only concerned for you."


    Even though I knew he was spewing nonsense, it helped me regain a bit of control over my temper.


    This was what I had anticipated. I needed something to keep her in check. I couldn''t have her undermining me or planting doubts among my subordinates about my capability due to my memory loss.


    Anyway, I turned my attention back to the greatest¡ªyes, the greatest¡ªmeal humanity had ever known. Without hesitation, I took my first bite.


    I cannot describe how much I had longed for this moment. I had been without taste or smell for so long¡ªso long that I''d forgotten what it felt like. Especially to taste food I had prepared myself. Yes, I couldn''t taste it earlier due to my physical condition, but now... now...


    My pale skin suddenly turned yellow. My eyes began to water as if I were about to cry. Of course, it was out of joy.


    I glanced at them and saw the look of realization settling on their faces¡ªeven Ivana. Nothing ever showed on her face except in moments of my misery.


    I couldn''t believe the moment I had awaited for so long would turn out to be so bitter.


    And to think I had considered myself a legendary chef. I had planned to buy a long white headband, tying it around my wrist and then my head whenever I cooked. Damn it, all my dreams went straight to the trash.


    I swallowed. No matter the cost, I had to preserve what little dignity I had left.


    I pushed the plate away.


    "I... I just remembered I was on a diet."


    I stared into the void, ignoring their looks that clearly said, "Yeah, right."


    Hank raised his hand with a fake cough. Is this how you save your Sir? You''ve let me down, Hank.


    "I''ll inform the staff to prepare something that meets your dietary standards, sir."


    I nodded like one of those dashboard dogs. Hank picked up the plate and left the room.


    Moments of silence passed between us. The longer they stretched, the more awkward it became.


    "We can''t trust the servants. They might try to exploit your vulnerable state. If you don''t trust your wife, then who will you trust?"


    She held my hand as if to emphasize her words.


    I lifted my hand, freeing it from her attempt at manipulation.


    "Let''s cut the nonsense."


    I looked at her with certainty.


    "Clearly, we don''t have a normal husband-and-wife relationship. Obviously, our marriage was for mutual benefit."


    She took a deep breath, seemingly done with the pretense.


    She was about to speak when I raised a finger to stop her.


    "It''s better if you don''t try to play games with me. Remember, memory loss isn''t permanent, and eventually, I''ll regain it. This is your one chance to build something called trust between us."


    She might try a mix of truth and lies, but I had nothing to lose. I would listen and analyze. No one else could tell me the truth about our relationship but her.


    "Our marriage is an agreement, as you said."


    Obviously.


    "What kind of agreement?"


    "To give you access to my family."


    What? How? Is she betraying her family? Impossible. Why? What would she gain?


    Money? Her family didn''t lack that.


    Power? Well, I''d heard her family discriminated between males and females, but with some wit and cunning, they''d surely find a way for her to live a better life than being branded a traitor.


    Besides, no matter her rank, if anyone dared to harm her, her family would descend on them until their entire lineage was wiped out. And the law wouldn''t do anything to help you. How do you prosecute someone who doesn''t officially exist?


    "You''d give me access to your family. In return, what do you gain?"


    "I want you to kill the current head of the family."


    Shocked, I stood up from my seat.


    Knock, knock.


    The door opened, and Hank entered.


    "Sir, the guest has arrived."


    I didn''t take my eyes off her.


    "We''ll finish this discussion later. Don''t show yourself to the guest."


    I left the room, heading to the door to greet him.


    Damn it. This body''s owner was insane. He antagonized everyone. Even the greatest emperors formed alliances and relationships at some point.


    Since waking up, all I''ve seen are enemies. Everyone wants to be my enemy¡ªor no, the opposite. I''m the one who wants to be everyone''s enemy.


    What is this body''s owner relying on? The serum.


    The serum you''re only allowed to have as much of as the Boss permits.


    I steadied myself after hearing the guest''s approaching footsteps. I had been so lost in thought that I''d been staring at the ground, ignoring the guest''s face.


    I snapped back to reality when his extended hand came into view, waiting for a handshake as he introduced himself.


    "I''m the Deputy Head of the Investigation office, I''m Null. Pleasure to meet you."


    The name sounded familiar. But just in case my hearing had deceived me, I raised my head, and our eyes met.


    Damn it. Damn it. Are we destined lovers or what?


    **********Unintentionally**********


    Emiric: Son of a bitch.


    Author: Why are you insulting me now?


    Emiric: Oh no, no, I wasn''t talking about you, but about that Scum Null.


    Author: Man, why are you breaking the laws of time and space just to spout such nonsense?


    Emiric: I was confused, alright? Besides, I don''t even understand which version of myself I am when I''m here. Sometimes I feel like I know exactly what''s happening to me, and other times I feel like I know nothing."


    Author: Just get out.

 chapter 21: The Scum in the mansion

    I don''t know why I was summoned to her office, but I know it isn''t for anything good.


    Going to the office was a nightmare¡ªnot just because I always left with an overwhelming amount of assignments I had to complete flawlessly but also because of the toll it took on my exhausted body.


    The school building had 10 floors, a typical number for a prestigious high school in the kingdom.


    You''d say, "Take the elevator," but it was prohibited for me as a form of punishment because my grades were low. This wasn''t something unique to me; it was a common practice.


    It was part of the reward-and-punishment system for all students, not limited to just the elevator. It could extend to meals, activities, or similar privileges.


    Her office was on the ninth floor, and I had to climb the stairs with my sick, worn-out body.


    Every step was pain and torment, compounded by the mental anguish of being called.


    I didn''t reach her office until I was drenched in sweat, my chest tightening, screaming for oxygen. But I couldn''t rest, not even for a moment.


    If I was late, she would double my assignments, making it impossible to finish them before the end of the school day, creating a vicious cycle of assignments and punishment that only led to more assignments.


    I didn''t call the school hell for no reason.


    Knock, knock.


    Not even a second passed before the devil''s voice came from inside the office.


    "Come in."


    I complied with her command, summoning what little courage I had left¡ªthough, honestly, I had none to begin with.


    Contrary to my expectations, she wasn''t seated at her desk, nor was the desk cluttered with the papers she was supposed to be grading.


    What was going on?


    She stood with her back to me, gazing out of the window. The scene was so different from what I was used to that I froze in place, unsure of what to do.


    "Come closer."


    Most people wouldn''t notice the change in her tone, but not me. I knew her. From her voice, I could tell she was angry. But what have I done now?


    That''s what I was thinking. That was my first question. It never even crossed my mind that the mistake could belong to someone else, not me.


    Why did everything have to be my fault?


    There was nothing I could do except obey her command.


    Seconds passed¡ªseconds that felt like hours. I wanted to ask her, but fear of making things worse kept me silent.


    "I heard that your mother has arranged for Null to help you with your lessons, is that true?"


    Why did this make her angry?


    "Y-Yes."


    At first, I thought she was worried I might cheat by letting Null do my homework for me. So I tried to say something to ease her concerns.


    "M-Madam, don''t worry, I won''t¡ª"


    Boom.


    Ever since my mother granted her permission to punish me physically, it felt as if she had been released from chains.


    At first, she was hesitant to do anything. But over time, she grew confident and crossed more boundaries.


    It wasn''t just hitting. She verbally abused me, and later, she dared to slap me¡ªnot just in her office but also in public spaces.


    Her initial slaps had reasons behind them, but over time, I realized she was just taking out life''s frustrations on me.


    I had been slapped so many times that I no longer even raised a hand to my cheek. Not a second passed before I''d straighten my twisted neck and move on.


    They say adaptability is one of the strongest traits that makes humans superior to other creatures. They didn''t say it''s also one of the strongest tools to enslave them.


    As if slapping wasn''t enough, she grabbed my ear and yanked me toward her. The sensation of your ear being practically torn off is unbearable.


    "I don''t want anything to affect his grades. Do you hear me?"


    "Y-Yes, of course. Y-Yes."


    She didn''t let go until I repeatedly confirmed that none of her concerns would come to pass.


    "You can leave now."


    Those were some of the sweetest, most beautiful words I ever loved to hear.


    I left without waiting a second.


    Of course, this was all that mattered to her. Null had been invited to all the events organized by the Four Families and the royal family.


    Let''s be honest¡ªNull''s academic brilliance had nothing to do with her. She just got lucky to have a genius in her class. That alone was enough to make her name well-known, possibly earning her a position as one of the tutors for the children of important people. Naturally, she''d fear that his grades dropping could have a negative impact on her reputation.


    And of course, that Scum Null knew all about this.


    His agreement with my mother stated he''d only receive the money necessary for transportation to events he was invited to and the clothes, still need to make a good impression in face-to-face meetings, no matter how impressive his grades were.


    All this in exchange for just helping me with things I struggled to understand.


    That wasn''t much, right? Even this simple arrangement was too much for his pride.


    He ignored me outright, simply because of the rumors about his deal with my mother. He made a slight effort to put on a show in front of teachers and students.


    I didn''t mind being ignored. I didn''t care about the money being thrown at him without any return. After all, the agreement was with my mother, not me.


    What annoyed me more was that my grades weren''t improving. They were getting worse. And who was to blame for that? Of course, me.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "How is he helping you, yet you''re still failing? Honestly, the trash is where you belong. What''s the point of having parents who do everything for you when all you do is waste resources?" The words of some side character who doesn''t even have a name.


    Does it end there? No.


    The Scum wasn''t satisfied with the money anymore. Of course, he didn''t have the audacity to ask my mother for more. So who would he ask? Me, naturally.


    "I want you to lend me some money. I''ll pay you back with interest after graduation. Just keep this between us."


    "No."


    It was the first time in my life I said no. Unfortunately, it was also the last.


    The devil pressured me from one side, and my mother from the other. Add to that the endless physical and psychological problems, his smug expression as he bragged, and the increasing financial demands.


    It was the drop that made the cup spill.


    Someone else might have reacted violently, but for me, saying no was monumental¡ªan unparalleled achievement.


    Of course, how could the top student accept being rejected by the bottom one?


    After the preliminary exams were over, the devil summoned me to her office. I thought it would be the same as always.


    By the same, I mean a slap across the face, accompanied by insults calling me useless, pathetic, and someone who''ll amount to nothing in life. But as soon as I took a step in¡ª


    Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.


    Six consecutive slaps in the same spot, resulting in redness and slight bleeding. She grabbed my hair and, with all her strength, pulled me closer, pressing my head against the desk. She leaned into my ear to make sure her words wouldn''t be missed.


    "Didn''t I warn you? Didn''t I warn you?"


    She pressed harder on my head as she repeated her words over and over, as if speaking to a deaf person.


    "I''m sorry, I''m sorry."


    I threw out my apology, even though I didn''t even know what I had done. The only thing I was certain of was that I had done something¡ªno doubt about it. Of course, it couldn''t possibly be anyone else''s fault but mine.


    "His grade dropped¡ªdo you know by how much? A single point."


    Yes, all of this was because his grade dropped by one point.


    "It won''t happen again."


    All I could think about was calming her down, completely ignoring the fact that this had nothing to do with me.


    "If it happens again¡­"


    "It won''t, it won''t."


    I left her office and headed to him.


    "I told you I needed the money. My unstable mental state caused my grade to drop, but it''s nothing you should worry about."


    He was putting on an act, pretending I didn''t know his plan. That Scum had deliberately lowered his grades just to put pressure on me.


    He made me regret the one moment I had ever made a decision for myself.


    I gave in and handed him the money.


    My own money. I started coming up with all kinds of excuses to get money from my mother just to give it to him.


    I got used to the slavery.


    I got used to the psychological and physical pain.


    I got used to everything.


    I can''t believe that the same Scum is sitting in front of me now.


    It turned out that the owner of the body had two offices:


    one in his private room¡ªthe fake room¡ªand another on the ground floor.


    I called it the ground office.


    Of course, like the other, it had no distinctive features to reflect its owner''s personality.


    In front of the desk was a set of soft leather chairs. We sat across from each other, separated only by a small table.


    Before we began talking, he carefully arranged his phone and papers in front of him. That Scum was always obsessed with order.


    The door opened as I was staring at his filthy face.


    Azaria approached smoothly, placing the tray of coffee cups on the table.


    Without waiting, I grabbed one and lit a cigarette with my lighter. I would need to relax, or I''d lose my temper and attack him, smashing his head to unleash years of hatred.


    Lucky for him, he''s now the Deputy Chief of the Investigation office. Otherwise, he would have been the first soul I''d snuff out with my own hands.


    Finally, after finishing his little arrangement ritual, he wore that expression of fake indifference.


    I knew he was irritated by my cigarette smoke, so I puffed even more deliberately. "If you''ve got something to say, spit it out, you bastard."


    But he wouldn''t. That had always been his nature¡ªno matter what bothered him, he would never show it.


    "First, I''d like to thank you on behalf of the president for your previous cooperation, as well as your current assistance."


    Previous cooperation? He was referring to the investigation where they suspected I was trying to destroy the kingdom''s economy.


    "Mr. Emiric, I''ll start with a simple question: what''s your relationship with the victims?"


    "You could say we were business partners."


    He picked up a specific paper from the table, pretending to read the information, as if I didn''t know he had already memorized my details.


    "Based on the investigation, they weren''t partners. They worked for you. After all, once they borrowed money from you, they became indebted, which effectively made them your employees. Isn''t that right?"


    I answered him calmly after taking a sip of coffee.


    "Worked for me? That''s a bit harsh. They''re just a group of people trying to prove they''ve changed and show society they can do better. Unfortunately, it seems society didn''t trust them."


    I closed my eyes and put on a pained expression, taking a deep breath at the same time. Honestly, I wouldn''t say another word. I''d let the public decide if I deserved an award for my performance.


    Of course, he wasn''t moved, continuing to "read" those papers. I wouldn''t be surprised if they were blank. We were both acting for the other''s benefit.


    "Who do you think had a motive to kill them?"


    "I have no knowledge of their personal lives. I can''t help you with that."


    "You''re saying you have no suspicions at all? None whatsoever?"


    "I''m just a businessman. If I were as smart as you, I''d have your position instead of you. Suspicion and investigation are beyond me."


    He hadn''t changed one bit. He searched for a specific paper, and once he found it, he neatly reorganized the rest. Then he glanced at the retrieved paper, realized it wasn''t the one he wanted, and returned it to its place, repeating the process over and over until he finally found what he was looking for.


    I really wanted to punch him at that moment.


    "How strange, Mr. Emiric. I won''t lie to you¡ªI was beginning to admire your intelligence for leaving no gaps in your records. But to overlook something so simple is a little disappointing."


    His words sent a ripple of unease through me, though my expression remained impassive. Where had I made a mistake?


    A certain thought crossed my mind. Could it be?


    "Your words contradict your academic grades, Mr. Emiric."


    Damn it. Just as I suspected. How could I have overlooked that? Of course, my grades would have been forged.


    "I didn''t know intelligence was measured by grades."


    "Everything is measured by your academic performance, Mr. Emiric."


    A moment of silence passed between us, which I used to take another sip of coffee.


    "You haven''t touched your coffee, Mr. Null."


    I tried to distract him a little. I knew it was a futile attempt, and he''d noticed it, but it didn''t matter.


    War is just a series of battles, and battles are a collection of decisions. Each decision is a swing of a sword or the release of an arrow. You never know which one will secure your victory or bring about your defeat.


    Damn, I''m spouting profound words. I should write a book.


    "I don''t eat or drink anything while working, but I appreciate your kind hospitality. Now, back to the subject, Mr. Emiric."


    He returned the papers to their place and pulled out his phone while continuing to speak.


    "According to the investigation, the last place the victims were seen was this mansion. Is there any error in what I''ve just said?"


    "Send my regards to the person who gathered that information. So far, his inquiries are accurate. As for my answer, yes."


    This was an interrogation, but it was wrapped in the guise of a friendly chat. I knew he wanted something he could use to corner me.


    It was like a dance. Each of us was trying to set the rhythm. Whoever succeeded would win.


    And let''s be honest¡ªhe almost succeeded once because of my lack of knowledge about the body''s owner. I needed to be more careful.


    "There''s something I''d like you to help me with. It''s been bothering me."


    Now we are starting. He''d had enough of waiting and was about to launch his attack.


    He placed his phone in front of me, showing a picture of a girl with black hair and a slender figure.


    "This girl was seen with them in the car. It seems she attended the meeting with you. But isn''t it strange that we didn''t find her body among the victims?"


    From his expression, I could tell what he was thinking. But where was he going with this? It would be easy to answer the question, but what was he planning exactly?


    Beep, beep.


    The sound of the desk phone interrupted my thoughts. It was my office line.


    "I''ll answer this. It might be something work-related."


    "Of course, take your time. I''ve set aside the entire day for you. I''m not in a hurry."


    Damn you and your mother. Do you think you''ve cornered me? Do you think I''m afraid of you?


    I ignored his provocation and picked up the phone.


    "Sir, sorry for the interruption."


    "No problem, Hank. What''s the matter?"


    I answered without taking my eyes off him, and he did the same.


    "The car you gave me the number for¡­"


    The car that officer rode in while I was in the arena.


    I''d taken note of the number and given it to Hank, hoping to learn who owned it.


    The problem was that he said it belonged to someone his source couldn''t access information on.


    "What about it?"


    "It''s outside right now, sir. It''s one of the cars the Deputy Chief arrived in."


    Damn it.


    "I see."


    I hung up, keeping the same expression, but inside, a volcano was erupting.


    It was clear now¡ªhe wasn''t planning to collect some information to use later. He intended to arrest me right here, right now.


    In your dreams, you Scum .

 chapter 22 : The Scum is still in the mansion

    First, he¡¯ll exploit the fact that I was in the arena.


    Second, he¡¯ll try to extract some information about the girl, Amy.


    But that won¡¯t be enough. I can come up with logical arguments that will leave him with nothing against me. So, what is he relying on? What is he planning?


    "Is there a problem, Mr. Emiric?"


    I put the phone back in its place, my expression unchanged.


    "Insects."


    "What?"


    Even in his surprise, he doesn¡¯t let any expression escape his mask of indifference.


    "I¡¯m saying, there are some insects in the mansion. They¡¯re waiting for my approval to use pesticides. I told them it¡¯s not the right time; the guests might suffocate. By the way, do you have any particular allergies?"


    "Mr. Emiric, I understand your friendly nature, but I kindly ask you to stick to the topic at hand."


    "Oh, sorry, sorry. My apologies. I¡¯m a bit of a talker. Please forgive me if I stray off-topic. You know how hard it is to change bad habits, haha."


    He lets out a fake laugh. He could¡¯ve just ignored me, but he¡¯s keen on steering the investigation back on course. I, on the other hand, am just as determined to derail it. Let¡¯s see who will end up dancing to whose tune.


    Even though I¡¯m at a disadvantage now, I must not come across as someone unwilling to cooperate.


    "Back to what we were discussing¡ªdo you have any explanation for why the girl wasn¡¯t among the bodies?"


    "No, I have nothing to say other than that she was a beautiful, sensitive girl. I had an enjoyable conversation with her. The last thing I remember is that she left with them."


    He retrieves his phone, and it seems like my answers are starting to irritate him. Good. This is just a friendly conversation¡ªhe can¡¯t pressure me even if he doesn¡¯t like my answers, or if I don¡¯t answer at all.


    "What was the purpose of the meeting?"


    I exhale smoke from my cigarette, followed by a sip of coffee, which is almost finished. I make sure my movements are as deliberate and slow as possible.


    From the unfortunate moments I¡¯ve shared with him, I¡¯ve figured out two things I can use to unsettle him:


    It is his arrogance. He may try as much as possible to hide it, but I know.


    "Just business-related matters. I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t share the details with you¡ªyou know how it is, business secrets."


    "The victims being at your table is normal, but the girl¡ªwhat was her role in all this?"


    I place my hand on my chin, my gaze fixed on the ceiling.


    "Well, I remember she was a guest of one of the attendees."


    "Aren¡¯t business dealings supposed to be secret? How could you allow a stranger to sit in on the meeting?"


    Damn it. He¡¯s clinging to every word I throw at him.


    "Well, I¡¯m weak when it comes to women. I couldn¡¯t kick her out after she entered the mansion."


    I place my hands behind my head and let out a laugh. Damn it, I need to work on my laugh¡ªit¡¯s terrible.


    He was about to continue when I interrupted him abruptly.


    "By the way, do you have any information about her?"


    He wanted to brush off my question, but it wasn¡¯t a big deal, so he let it slide. After all, this is just a friendly conversation.


    "We couldn¡¯t determine her name or anything."


    I interrupted him again.


    "I¡¯m not asking about her name. I mean her phone number, her address, or even her bra size."


    The best way to unnerve a serious person is to act like a pervert. I¡¯m just pretending. I¡¯m not a pervert.


    And for the doubters out there¡ªAmy is in the underground prison right now. I could go down and get her measurements myself, just so you know.


    He takes a second to decide how to respond.


    "We couldn¡¯t gather anything that matches your interests. Our investigations regarding her are still empty."


    "Take my words back, don''t pass on my regards to whoever collected the information. He¡¯s not good at his job."


    "We didn¡¯t have enough time¡ª"


    Suddenly, he realizes the trap he¡¯s walked into. He scrambles to piece his thoughts back together, trying to return to the main line of questioning. But it¡¯s too late.


    "I¡¯m sure he has high grades, but as I said, that¡¯s no indication of intelligence."


    A spark flashes in his eyes, vanishing just as quickly. But I can catch it.


    "Are you against the kingdom¡¯s policies and how it manages the education system?"


    "I¡¯m against a lot of things. What? Aren¡¯t we in a democratic kingdom where I have the right to think whatever I want?"


    He notices the tone he¡¯s using to question me and his inappropriate wording. He knows he¡¯s slipped up. I could end the conversation here, and no one would blame me. With these thoughts, he¡¯ll rush to correct his position before I can exploit it.


    "Every citizen has the right to say what they want. I apologize for my tone¡ªI was surprised that someone with high grades like yours would have this opinion."If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Alright, alright. Let¡¯s not get tense. We¡¯re not at war here. As for your question, I oppose anything that disrupts anyone¡¯s life."


    "The kingdom didn¡¯t know prosperity until it adopted the current education system."


    "Exploitative organizations wouldn¡¯t have found a way to destroy students¡¯ health without the educational system allowing it."


    "..."


    another pause between us. He begins organizing his papers.


    What is there to organize? Psychopath. It¡¯s just his way of calming himself and getting his thoughts back in order. I¡¯m no different from him.


    I take the last sip of my coffee and a long drag from my cigarette to calm myself.


    Damn it. Instead of ending this conversation, I let my emotions take over after seeing how fiercely he defended his stance.


    Everything flashed before me. Damn it. Let the past go so it can let you go.


    After quickly calming myself, I use the situation to keep him from returning to the main point.


    "Look at yourself. I bet you¡¯ve come across plenty of desperate cases that needed help, haven¡¯t you?"


    ¡°Everyone is responsible for themselves. Why do you oppose your kingdom and stand with people who would let you die?¡±


    Every word he says fuels my anger.


    Who is he talking about? Children¡ªchildren who know nothing but the two people who brought them into this world. If children abandon their parents, who will take care of them? The kingdom that didn¡¯t even care for your needs, despite you being one of the top achievers in the entire kingdom? The same kingdom that constantly claims day and night that its sole focus is education.


    If not for my mother¡¯s money, which she gave you, you wouldn¡¯t have made it through your first year at university. Have you forgotten that you came from a poor family?


    "Are you saying you relied solely on yourself? I mean, no one helped you?"


    "No."


    The answer comes with an unwavering certainty. Not a hint of hesitation. He doesn¡¯t even take a moment to think. What else was I expecting from him?


    "It¡¯s hard to believe. Was your family wealthy?"


    "I wasn¡¯t rich."


    "But from what I know, you¡¯d need financial support to manage life at university. Are you seriously saying no one helped you at all?"


    I don¡¯t know why I keep pressing on this. Maybe I can¡¯t believe his denial.


    "Who needs to bend their head to get something done, I was sure I could make it on my own¡ªand I did."


    His words are one thing, but the speed of his response is another. He has practically abandoned the investigation now, almost as if he wants to ensure that I¡¯ve bought into his narrative and beliefs.


    "It must¡¯ve been difficult for you, right?"


    "Without holding firm to your beliefs, yes, it would be difficult. But everything passes¡­"


    "I¡¯m talking about your name."


    You want to play games? Let¡¯s play. I¡¯ve had enough of defending myself¡ªit¡¯s time to go on the attack.


    "W-What about my name?"


    "I know a thing or two about names. It seems like your family didn¡¯t expect much from you to name you that."


    Finally, the mask of indifference begins to crack. He¡¯s still holding on to it, but I can see he¡¯s struggling to keep it intact. Let¡¯s see how far he can go.


    "I think you¡¯re mistaken."


    "No, null¡ªdoesn¡¯t your name imply emptiness? A hollow person? I¡¯m pretty sure I read that somewhere¡­"


    "I said, you¡¯re mistaken."


    His voice suddenly rises, and he walks straight into the trap.


    It¡¯s over.


    I stand up quickly, forcing him to rise as well.


    "I didn¡¯t mean¡­"


    I don¡¯t give him a chance to fix the situation.


    "I was told this would be a friendly meeting, but raising your voice in my home with such disrespect? I will not tolerate it. Isn¡¯t it enough that I live under constant threats, carrying my life on my shoulders? And now I¡¯m being insulted in my own house?"


    Exaggeration is the key.


    Of course, he knows what I¡¯m doing. But what can he do? Clearly, he¡¯s been instructed to avoid provoking me to the point where I have an excuse to shut down the investigation. Otherwise, they¡¯d need an official warrant, which would require solid evidence to summon me.


    I move towards the desk quickly and press the button that allows the sound to be heard by null.


    "Yes, sir."


    "The meeting is over. Mr. Null is preparing to leave."


    "Understood."


    There¡¯s no going back now. He¡¯s failed to extract anything from me, leaving empty-handed.


    "I really didn¡¯t mean to overstep."


    At least say it in a way that sounds believable, you bastard.


    "It seems your investigation is hollow, Mr. Null. I¡¯m willing to discuss anything with you, but raising your voice in this mansion? That is something I will not tolerate. This mansion isn¡¯t called the Ghost Palace for no reason."


    It pays off to occasionally eavesdrop on the servants¡¯ gossip¡ªyou learn useful things.


    In the kingdom¡¯s strict hierarchical system, there¡¯s a rigid law about filing reports. If you omit any detail, no matter how small, you could lose your job.


    When he files his report, it will be reviewed repeatedly in the hope of finding a flaw that would justify issuing an official subpoena.


    It¡¯s a complicated process, but based on it, a ¡°spirit of the people¡± might just pay you a visit.


    So, I¡¯m better off giving them plenty of nonsense to deal with.


    It¡¯s just a precaution on my part¡ªI don''t know the subject of the death ¡°spirit of the people.¡±


    "Excuse me, may I use the bathroom first?"


    Damn it, I have no reason to stop him.


    "Go ahead"


    I say through clenched teeth, wondering what he¡¯s up to.


    This time, I pressed the button without allowing the sound to spread.


    "Everyone, prepare yourselves."


    "Understood."


    I cut the line and waited for a minute. What is this Scum doing in there? Is he giving birth?


    Finally, the bathroom door opens, and he walks out of the office. I follow closely behind him.


    As we walk toward the main door, all my men are standing at attention. Each time we pass one, they bow their heads and fall into step behind us. I don¡¯t care what the Scum thinks¡ªit¡¯s best to be cautious.


    I don¡¯t miss his glances at me as my erratic movements catch his attention. One moment I¡¯m to his right, the next to his left. Sometimes I advance a bit closer, and other times I take wide steps back.


    With every glance he throws my way, I think to myself: Don¡¯t worry. You¡¯ll understand soon enough.


    Seconds later, we reach the mansion¡¯s front door, where his men stand waiting in the grand hall leading to the exit.


    Why are these pigs inside instead of waiting outside? What¡¯s going on here?


    He turns and extends his hand.


    "Once again, I apologize and hope we meet under better circumstances."


    A fake smile spreads across his face. He¡¯s clearly planning something¡ªbut what?


    "I¡¯m not a hypocrite. I didn¡¯t like your behavior, and I¡¯m not comfortable shaking your hand."


    He withdraws his hand without showing a shred of embarrassment on his thick face. He simply turns and begins to walk away.


    I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s instinct or the serum this body took, but every hair on my body stands on end.


    Without realizing it, I take a step back¡­


    Boom!


    The sound of an explosion erupts outside the mansion, followed by shouts:


    "They¡¯re trying to assassinate the Deputy Chief!"


    The moment those words hit everyone¡¯s ears; the sound of weapons being drawn fills the air.


    My men surround me, while his men surround him. Everyone is armed and pointing their weapons at the other.


    "How dare you attempt to assassinate a government official? Are you planning a coup?"


    Damn your mother.


    So, this was your plan all along.

 chapter 23: The Scum on the air

    "Boom!"


    The force of the explosion, its scope unclear, shook the mansion, disturbing the sleep of the girl with golden hair. She opened her eyes calmly and slowly lifted the blanket before rising to her feet. Walking toward her bedroom door, she opened it and found a guard standing before her.


    "What was that?".


    The guard turned to block her path, preventing her from stepping outside.


    "My lady, under the sir¡¯s orders, I¡¯ve been instructed not to let you leave your room,"


    "I asked you, what¡¯s happening?".


    "I don¡¯t know, my lady. All I¡¯ve been told is that the sir insisted you must not appear before the guests,".


    She accepted his explanation with an icy calmness, turning away and returning to her room. Before her thoughts could wander far, her phone began to ring.


    A bomb had shaken the mansion. Despite the chaos, she showed no visible concern. But as soon as she saw the caller¡¯s name, she picked up the phone quickly, her otherwise cold face betraying a flicker of unease.


    "Mother, what happened? Is everything okay?".


    "I should be the one asking you! What is all this chaos happening in your mansion?"


    Her mother¡¯s words drew a curious expression from her.


    "How do you know about this?".


    "Ren, send those clips to your sister,"


    "Okay, Mother,".


    Her mother seemed to be speaking to someone next to her. Barely a second passed before another voice came through Ivana¡¯s phone.


    "Look at what your sister just sent you,".


    Ivana ended the call and opened the message.


    Only to raise her eyebrow that had never been raised before, and her beautiful eyes widened.


    "What is that crazy planning now?"


    Meanwhile, in the same mansion, near the grand entrance, I stood surrounded by my men. We were positioned in a tight circle, our weapons drawn and aimed at Null¡¯s men. Their stance mirrored ours, fingers poised on triggers, awaiting any sudden movement or a command to fire from their leader. If the standoff escalated, the pristine marble floor would soon be stained with blood.


    "Timeout! Timeout!"


    I called out, raising my hands high into the air for everyone to see. My voice was loud, echoing through the hall so that all could hear.


    "What¡¯s the meaning of this? Are you attempting to assassinate a government official? And where? In your own home! Does the kingdom mean so little to you?".


    Son of a bitch, he''s pushing the issue to this point.


    "Enough of this nonsense! Someone go outside and find out what¡¯s going on,".


    Before anyone could move, one of his men burst through the door, his face pale with panic, shouting hysterically.


    "A bomb! A bomb has been planted in one of the Deputy Chief¡¯s cars!"


    The announcement sent a ripple of unease through the room. The faces of Null¡¯s men darkened, and their eyes, filled with hatred, locked onto me as though they wanted to tear me apart.


    "You coward! If you want to kill someone, face them directly instead of resorting to dirty tricks!".


    The words weren¡¯t meant for me.


    Null was trying to manipulate his men, most of whom were members of the Investigation office¡ªtrained professionals with a code of honor similar to soldiers and police. They valued integrity and would not act recklessly without provocation.


    He¡¯s trying to rile them up, pushing them to fire without hesitation.


    He wants to kill me right here.


    But this is good¡ªit shows he doesn¡¯t have complete control over his men. That¡¯s why he¡¯s resorting to this assassination narrative.


    "What proof do you have?".


    "Proof? Is there any proof greater than my car exploding? And what a coincidence¡ªit almost went off, but I was delayed in the bathroom!".


    The bathroom. That¡¯s why he had asked to use it¡ªto set the bomb¡¯s timer. A clever move. His confidence and audacity have grown since he took this position.


    "Why wouldn¡¯t I have done it after you left? Why would I incriminate myself in my own home? And besides, how could a simple businessman like me infiltrate and plant a bomb? Look at my capabilities¡ªI even knew which car the Deputy Chief would use!"


    High-ranking officials like the President and his entourage typically have at least three cars assigned to them. No one, except for the security team and the individual themselves, knows which vehicle will be used, minimizing the chances of a successful assassination.


    "Still playing the ¡®simple businessman¡¯ card? That¡¯s getting old,".


    "I wonder who¡¯s really trying to assassinate who here,".


    The expressions of his men shifted as confusion spread among them. Their faces seemed to ask, What is he talking about now?


    "What tricks are you trying to play this time?".


    "Me? Tricks? Let¡¯s think about this logically,"


    raising a single finger in front of everyone''s eyes dramatically, we must make the viewers enjoy the show.


    "Legally, what should we do in a situation like this? We should call in an investigative team to examine the bomb, trace where it came from, and determine when it was planted,".


    The Nameless Kingdom is considered the number one producer of all types of parts for weapons and explosives. It¡¯s impossible for Null to have brought it from outside the kingdom.


    He wants to resolve the matter here and now, making it easier to cover everything up.


    Additionally, there are rumors circulating that I am an enemy of the kingdom. It¡¯s a solid plan.


    "So, why have your men raised their weapons against government officials?".


    "They didn¡¯t raise their weapons until your men did first,".


    "Show your intentions. Order your men to lower their weapons, and we¡¯ll discuss how to proceed,".


    "Unfortunately, I¡¯m beginning to feel my life is in danger. So, things will remain as they are until a joint team of police and media arrives,".


    "We won¡¯t be calling anyone!".


    Pointing my finger directly at him, I yelled,


    "See? He¡¯s trying to frame me!"


    "This is the perfect opportunity to rid the kingdom of its threats,".Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    The room seemed to divide, with expressions of both anger and support. My men looked outraged, while his seemed emboldened.


    "This goes against the law and is an abuse of power,".


    "The law exists to protect the kingdom. If it fails to do that, what¡¯s the point of following it?".


    Their shoulders squared, their grips on their weapons tightening. Those who had hesitated moments ago now looked ready to act. They were motivated by the idea of achieving something "great" for the kingdom, even though it was based on a mere rumor.


    "The law exists to protect everyone, not just the kingdom,"


    I shot back, addressing his men directly.


    "Charges could be brought against you or your families. The law is there to protect you if you¡¯re innocent,".


    Sensing the effect of my words, Null interrupted,


    "You¡¯re right."


    Of course, he knew I was right. And he knew his guards could sense it too. To prevent me from swaying them further, he shifted the focus.


    "But look at you¡ªa man who should be in prison walking free. Isn¡¯t that dangerous for the people?".


    "Again, you¡¯re throwing baseless accusations. Where¡¯s your proof? My partners died because of unproven claims. Their belongings were searched, and nothing incriminating was found. They were killed for nothing,"


    I shot back, speaking quickly to deny him the chance to interrupt.


    "Do you know how many guilty souls wish to repent but won¡¯t dare because of what happened to my partners? Their hatred for the kingdom will only grow. And you call me the threat? No, what you¡¯re doing is the real danger. Who will trust the law now?".


    I leaned forward, letting my words carry weight.


    "You can¡¯t answer. The spirit of the people didn¡¯t die for nothing¡ªit died because of people like you who exploit the law for fame."


    "Kill this insolent man! Kill him!".


    Damn it. He used the moment I paused to catch my breath.


    No matter what I say, it seems they either won¡¯t believe me or refuse to admit the truth.


    I noticed they were determined. My mind raced: Should I act now? No, no. Let me add fuel to the fire.


    ¡°See? He doesn¡¯t even consider your blood. What do you think of this: If you prove to them that I¡¯m a criminal, you can do whatever you want.¡±


    To be honest, they didn¡¯t need to follow my lead. The real reason for their hesitation was the undeniable fact that none of them could guarantee their own survival. Among their ranks, there would surely be casualties. As visions of their families flashed before their eyes, they would take the bait.


    Even Null wouldn¡¯t refuse this offer; he had no reason to.


    ¡°All right then. You¡¯re saying that if I prove to my men you¡¯re a criminal, you¡¯ll order your men to lay down their weapons and surrender?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Even though I¡¯m under no obligation to, I¡¯m confident in myself¡ªand in the integrity of your men, unlike you.¡±


    Ignoring my taunt, he began organizing his thoughts. He looked self-assured, blinded by his own overconfidence. Why would I agree to such conditions? What¡¯s in it for me? Truly, the biggest killer of brilliance is arrogance.


    This is where the difference between intelligence and cunning comes in.


    With my cunning, I exploited his arrogance, rendering his intelligence useless.


    His men outnumbered mine, and their training, naturally, far surpassed that of the bandits I employed. Add to that their advanced and diverse weaponry. Of course, he saw himself as superior. All he needed now was to convince his men that killing me was in the public¡¯s best interest.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s a businessman doing in underground fight rings?¡±


    He¡¯s starting with this, huh? Fine.


    ¡°Again, where¡¯s your proof?¡±.


    ¡°The plate number of one of the cars parked outside.¡±


    ¡°And? Did you find it registered in my name?¡±


    ¡°No, it was registered under the name of someone who turned out to be deceased.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still waiting to hear how this links back to me.¡±


    ¡°I personally met with a police officer, who provided me with the information.¡±


    He turned to address everyone, his voice rising as he began his speech.


    ¡°That officer was later killed, and the case was filed against an unknown suspect.¡±


    It was no surprise to see the anger on their faces upon hearing about a fallen officer. After all, the Investigation office is an extension of the police force.


    He gestured to one of his guards.


    ¡°Tell me the plate number of the car that had the bomb planted in it.¡±


    Damn it. That¡¯s how he¡¯ll connect it.


    ¡°So, the same car I met the officer in is the one that was bombed? You killed the officer first because he was an easier target, and now you¡¯re coming after me?¡±


    He shifted his posture, directing his full attention toward me.


    ¡°Now, I¡¯d love to hear your explanation for all of this. Don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s just a coincidence.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you stepped on someone else¡¯s toes, and they¡¯re the ones seeking revenge. Why does it have to be me? Feels like you¡¯re tailoring this suit to fit me perfectly,¡±.


    ¡°Of course, of course. The entire universe is conspiring against you. Everything is being orchestrated to make us doubt you. Come on now, there¡¯s no smoke without fire,¡±


    Once again, the art of breaking a serious person.


    ¡°There is.¡±


    Everyone, including my men, looked at me with confusion etched across their faces.


    ¡°Ice. Ice also produces smoke.¡±


    ¡°¡­¡­¡±


    Silence blanketed the room, even encompassing Null. It¡¯s amusing how their entire system can crash simply because I threw in a joke.


    It wasn¡¯t about the joke itself, but about the sheer unexpectedness of it in a life-or-death situation.


    Even my men gave me a look that screamed, Are you serious? Just as I thought the moment had passed, one of his men spoke up.


    ¡°The smoke produced by ice is a phenomenon observable under certain conditions, but it isn¡¯t true smoke in the traditional sense. Here¡¯s some clarification on the subject¡ª¡±


    And he began reciting what sounded like an article, as if I¡¯d asked an AI to answer my question.


    ¡°Are you done?¡±.


    Null shot him a single withering glare before ignoring him entirely, leaving the man to stew in shame.


    ¡°If you¡¯re finished with your jokes, do you have an actual response or not?¡±.


    ¡°All right then. You¡¯re accusing me of killing the officer and nearly killing the Deputy Chief, all to avoid being accused of attending illegal fights? Remind me, what¡¯s the penalty for that again?¡±.


    ¡°A fine no less than 100,000 and no more than 200,000,¡±


    another one of his men answered, again without Null¡¯s permission.He started to lose control of them


    ¡°Where¡¯s the girl?¡±


    He knew this line of argument alone wouldn¡¯t suffice, so he leveraged the girl¡¯s disappearance to bolster his case.


    I feigned ignorance.


    ¡°Excuse me, which girl are you talking about? My life is full of Ladies and¡­¡±


    I paused, placing a hand on my chin as if deep in thought.


    ¡°No, no, there¡¯s nothing else. Just Ladies. You¡¯ll have to be more specific.¡±


    ¡°Play your games all you want. The missing girl didn¡¯t leave the mansion, did she?¡±


    ¡°The girl left with my partners¡±.


    ¡°Your proof?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one accusing me here. Show me your proof.¡±


    ¡°You want proof? Allow me to search the mansion.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s against the law¡ª¡±


    He lunged forward, clearly running out of patience and eager to end this quickly.


    ¡°The law stopped mattering a while ago. What are you afraid of? Let me search the mansion. Here¡¯s the deal: if I find nothing, we¡¯ll consider you an upstanding citizen. I think it¡¯s a fair offer.¡±


    If I refused, he¡¯d claim I had something to hide. There was no way out of this.


    ¡°You''ll choose one person from your side, and one person from my side will accompany him. No one else moves¡±.


    He was about to argue, but I cut him off.


    ¡°I''m compromising from the beginning¡±


    They began to feel slightly guilty and didn¡¯t press further.


    The individuals were selected, and their ¡°exploration¡± began.


    Roughly thirty minutes passed. My men were starting to show signs of exhaustion, while his men remained annoyingly fresh. Damn it¡ªwas the gap really this wide?


    They returned, quicker than I expected. The mansion is massive, even I haven¡¯t had the time to fully explore it. How did they finish so fast?


    ¡°Is the device malfunctioning?¡±.


    The man I¡¯d sent with them stepped forward.


    ¡°Sir, they had some kind of strange device, but even with it, they found nothing.¡±


    Frustration spread across Null¡¯s features. Delightful. Watching him like this was a treat. I wanted more.


    ¡°Kill them all¡±.


    Everyone froze, except me. I knew he wouldn¡¯t keep his promises unless absolutely necessary.


    ¡°We¡¯ll never get a better opportunity than this. If we let it slip, we might regret it for the rest of our lives.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just using you. I bet he¡¯s behind the explosion and is scared his plan will be exposed,¡±.


    Null raised his hand toward me.


    ¡°Fire. That¡¯s an order.¡±


    I raised my own hand toward my men.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fire. Do not fire.¡±


    I saw it in their eyes. I wasn¡¯t counting on their conscience or humanity. You can¡¯t rely on something that doesn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    A voice came from beyond the door, followed swiftly by its owner. Null recognized him immediately¡ªAssistant Chief of the Investigation office.


    ¡°Zane, now¡ª¡±


    The man didn¡¯t stop moving, rushing straight to Null and whispering something in his ear.


    Null¡¯s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Quickly, he pulled out his phone. After a few taps, he stared at the screen.


    He froze for several seconds, his eyes glued to whatever he saw. Without looking away, he moved his hands, signaling for someone to confirm he wasn¡¯t imagining things.


    Finally, he glanced at me with a look of utter disbelief.


    ¡°All right, all right, all right¡­¡±.

 chapter 24 :A Harem Novel? Seriously?!

    Why do you think people gamble, even though they know they are likely to lose? Even if they win, their successive losses will far outweigh their gains.


    The answer is simple, without any suspense:


    no matter how much you tell them they are losing, they somehow feel like they are winning. Why?


    Short-sightedness.


    They lose a thousand chasing a million. Every time they gamble, they don¡¯t see the thousand they lost¡ªthey fixate on the million they didn¡¯t win. In their subconscious mind, they believe they haven¡¯t truly lost; rather, no matter how much they lose, their losses will never compare to the opportunity of winning the million.


    They chase wealth under the illusion of quick profit, unaware that all they¡¯re truly chasing is poverty and ruin.


    In the meeting room, a curse lingers.


    How many rooms are in the mansion? I don¡¯t know.


    I stand upright, my eyes wandering over the walls adorned with expensive paintings. Behind me stands Hank, speaking softly into his phone.


    ¡°Sir, no one knows about this meeting. It hasn¡¯t been recorded in any of the investigation logs.¡±


    Without turning, I rest my hand on my chin. This time, I¡¯m not acting; I¡¯m genuinely trying to focus and immerse myself in my train of thought. These past few days, my mind hasn¡¯t had a moment¡¯s rest except during sleep.


    Thankfully, I discovered last night how this body sleeps¡ªit¡¯s addicted.


    ¡°What are the probabilities here?¡±


    I won¡¯t lie; knowing that he¡¯s aware I¡¯ve lost my memory makes me less hesitant to ask him questions. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll lower my guard. I still don¡¯t know where the stab in the back will come from.


    ¡°In response to you, sir, since you¡¯re certain the Investigation office will visit you, and since there are no official records, this will just be a friendly conversation.¡±


    ¡°My words won¡¯t be used against me later?¡±


    ¡°They could start a formal investigation, but they won¡¯t. No one would allow a friendly conversation with them after that.¡±


    No, no. Something about this is suspicious.


    Trying to clear my head, I begin pacing around the room.


    Hank doesn¡¯t let his eyes wander from me for even a moment, as if waiting for me to finish so he can receive his orders.


    Instead of moving my body, I suddenly start moving my eyes, scanning every corner of the room.


    I narrow my eyes at Hank.


    ¡°There must be cameras in the mansion, right?¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good, good. What about the mansion¡¯s secret locations?¡±


    ¡°There are cameras, but they have private connections.¡±


    Hank¡¯s words bring a smile to my face.


    He notices, trying to predict what I¡¯m about to do but failing. His face begins to wrinkle with concern. I waited for him to ask, but he didn¡¯t, making me wonder if he¡¯s naturally inclined to follow orders without question.


    ¡°Order the men to place Ivana in a secret location.¡±


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll search, but¡­¡±


    Without him continuing, I know what he wants to say. To save time, I cut him off.


    ¡°The law is just an excuse to do what they want. As for this ¡®friendly conversation,¡¯ I don¡¯t buy it.¡±


    Why would anyone agree to an investigation without clear evidence or charges?


    A friendly conversation is nothing but an unofficial investigation. Plain and simple.


    Their compliance with it is like saying to the government: Look, even though I¡¯m not obligated, I¡¯ll agree to this investigation to show my goodwill.


    In reality, they wouldn¡¯t mind dragging me in and launching a full investigation, but to avoid appearing oppressive, they use the excuse of a ¡°friendly conversation.¡± Friendly my ass.


    Not to mention, with Amy in the mansion and her body missing from the assassination scene, it¡¯s easy for them to figure out she was in the meeting. They might find some pretext to start searching the mansion. I need to be cautious.


    ¡°Find a platform to display the camera footage for the ¡®friendly conversation.¡¯¡±


    Hank knits his brows. Of course, he¡¯s wondering why I¡¯d risk exposing my identity. If I¡¯m still alive, it¡¯s likely because of the blessings of protection laws.


    ¡°Sir, this¡­¡±


    I raise my hand to silence him.


    ¡°I know. All I can do is memorize the position of every camera and its range so I can turn my back to them in an attempt to hide my face.¡±


    ¡°Sir, that won¡¯t be enough. Through voice recognition or the mansion¡¯s structure, your identity will eventually be revealed¡ªit¡¯s only a matter of time.¡±


    ¡°With all the media focus on me, it¡¯s inevitable my identity will be discovered. Just ensure that whenever my name is mentioned, sound interference is triggered. Make it a two-second delay to make it easier for you.¡±


    Hank exhales deeply.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to hide the lady. The mansion is designed to make all rooms appear hidden.¡±


    I blink twice, scrutinizing him. Hank notices my confusion and bows apologetically.


    ¡°Sorry, sir. I overlooked¡­¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Just explain.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    Hank approaches the door, moving his hand over it as if wiping it.


    A faint mechanical hum fills the air, like the buzz of electricity. I watch in amazement as the edges of the door slowly dissolve, transforming into a silvery liquid that flows into the surrounding walls.


    Within seconds, the door completely disappears, leaving behind a seamless wall as if there had never been an opening.


    I approach quickly, running my fingers over the smooth surface where the door had been moments ago. No traces of seams or gaps. Even the texture matches the rest of the wall.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°How¡­?¡±


    I mutter, unable to finish my question.


    Hank smiles proudly.


    ¡°Nanotechnology, sir. Smart particles that rearrange themselves based on commands. They can mimic any surface or material.¡±


    If I told anyone there was a door here moments ago, they¡¯d think I was insane.


    I glance at Hank, who¡¯s still maintaining his smug smile.


    ¡°Can every room be made to appear as if it doesn¡¯t exist?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Any door in the mansion can be treated the same way.¡±


    I smile, a knowing grin, without taking my eyes off the wall. Mimicking Hank¡¯s movements, I find the door returns to its original state.


    ¡°Let¡¯s begin, then. I don¡¯t want you, Dexter, or even Azaria to show your faces.¡±


    ¡°Understood, sir.¡±


    Hank bows, taking three steps back before leaving me alone. Now, what do I do?


    I stretch my hand toward the sky. Of course, my dream ,I¡¯ll create the greatest meal humanity has ever known.


    Let''s set aside my dream that shattered against the harsh rocks of reality and return to the present moment, now that the flashback has ended.


    ¡°My system has been hacked¡­ My system has been hacked!¡±


    I raise my voice, not caring about Null¡¯s incredulous gaze as he processes what¡¯s happening.


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    He was about to make things worse when Zane stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°Mr. Null, let¡¯s stop here.¡±


    Null shrugs his shoulder, forcing Zane to release him.


    ¡°Everyone wants to be my enemy. I¡¯m persecuted! Why? I¡¯m just a handsome businessman. Why?¡±


    I make sure my voice is as dramatic as possible. Unfortunately, I¡¯d love to move around to make the scene more theatrical, but if I so much as budge, my face will appear on the cameras. It¡¯s better to stay put.


    Finally, after digesting the shock, Null stops looking at me and begins scanning the surroundings, still determined to find something he can use. He won¡¯t accept defeat easily.


    "Drop your weapons! What are you waiting for?"


    Zane whispers, his eyes locked onto all of Null''s men. They begin shifting their gazes between Zane, the assistant, and Null, the deputy.


    Of course, Null¡¯s authority will prevail. They refuse to lower their weapons, though it¡¯s clear they surrendered long ago in spirit. They know they can¡¯t open fire under the watchful eye of the kingdom without solid proof.


    ¡°Where are the licenses for the weapons you''re carrying right now?¡±


    His words snap me out of my performance and make me stare at him with a mixture of pity and disdain.


    My gaze only fuels the fire burning in his chest.


    ¡°Of course, we have licenses. What do you think? That the Deputy Chief would show up at my house, and I¡¯d brazenly keep unlicensed weapons here?¡±


    I glance at my men, their faces revealing telling expressions.


    Damn it. Don¡¯t tell me this body¡¯s owner was wandering the kingdom armed with illegal weapons. Was he insane?


    ¡°Show me the paperwork...¡±


    ¡°Enough is enough! Every guard has their own license. I hadn¡¯t planned on going out today; I was waiting for your visit. Naturally, they didn¡¯t bring their licenses with them. You¡¯re just digging for something to use against me. Is there still law in this kingdom?¡±


    I raise my hand, signaling to Zane as a final attempt to pressure Null. He doesn¡¯t take defeat lightly.


    ¡°Mr. Zane, you seem like the only rational person here. Shouldn¡¯t the Investigation office focus on the person who hacked into my system and invaded my privacy?¡±


    Sweat trickles down his forehead. He closes his eyes briefly, forcing a strained smile.


    ¡°Of course, of course. Just give me a moment.¡±


    He finishes speaking and turns to Null.


    ¡°The Chief himself ordered me to intervene if you lose control after seeing the live broadcast.¡±


    He glances at his men, and this time he speaks through gritted teeth:


    ¡°By order of the Chief, lower your weapons. You and you. Otherwise, don¡¯t blame me when I report to the Chief that you refused his direct orders.¡±


    At the mere mention of the word "Chief," a shudder runs from the tips of their hair to the soles of their feet. Without hesitation, they lower their weapons. The position of the Deputy might outrank the assistant, but it¡¯s nothing compared to the Chief himself.


    In response, my men look at me. I nod, and they lower their weapons as well.


    ¡°Mr. Zane, I truly feel persecuted. I hope the Chief can provide a convincing reason for all of this happening to me.¡±


    Zane turns to me, maintaining his fake smile, though a few veins begin to show on his forehead.


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll inform His Excellency of everything, though it¡¯s hardly necessary. He¡¯s seen it all online.¡±


    ¡°Ah, don¡¯t remind me! My privacy has been violated.¡±


    I exhale deeply, closing my eyes and placing a hand on my chest. The pain inside feels real.


    While delivering one of the most dramatic performances of my life, I watch Null silently leave the mansion. Unable to handle the loss, he storms off like a girl rejected after confessing her feelings. As if I¡¯d let him leave without a parting shot.


    ¡°High grades don¡¯t necessarily mean intelligence after all.¡±


    Although he doesn¡¯t stop, I¡¯m sure my words reached his ears, I can feel his anger from here.


    In the grand hall of the mansion, where crystal chandeliers dangle from the high ceiling and their light reflects off walls adorned with priceless artwork, I sit on a large black velvet sofa.


    In my hands is a massive bag of popcorn, its rich aroma filling the air. My eyes are glued to the giant screen covering most of the opposite wall, and my heart pounds with anticipation.


    ¡°When will it start?¡±


    My voice is impatient, like a child waiting for their favorite movie to begin.


    Hank and Dexter stand to my right, their bodies stiff like living statues. To my left sits Ivana, her light perfume blending with the scent of the popcorn. Azaria stands behind the couch, tapping her fingers lightly.


    ¡°It will start any moment now, sir.¡±


    Hank responds with a flat tone, as if he¡¯s been forced to watch with me. Suddenly, an idea strikes me like lightning.


    A wide smile spreads across my face, and my eyes gleam with mischievous excitement.


    ¡°Let¡¯s summon all the men. They deserve to be entertained too.¡±


    Within minutes, the vast hall fills with my men. The sound of their whispers and movements breaks the stillness from moments ago. Some stand nervously, while others exchange questioning glances.


    I hear one whisper to another:


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Do you know anything?¡±


    ¡°No, do you?¡±


    ¡°If I knew, why would I ask you in the first place?¡±


    ¡°Shh, it¡¯s starting.¡±


    I raise my voice to silence the chatter. Ignoring their unimportant stares, I focus entirely on Null as he appears on the screen.


    The moment he steps onto the platform, a flurry of camera flashes strikes his face. I can¡¯t fathom what¡¯s so special about his face to warrant all those pictures.


    ¡°Let me start with an apology. An apology to the kingdom and its people, especially Mr. Emiric. Due to the cunning of the kingdom¡¯s enemies, I almost made a mistake¡ªa mistake against democracy, the spirit of the people, and every soul seeking redemption.¡±


    Two hours had barely passed since the incident, and my name was temporarily freed¡ªthis was the first and would be the last time, only due to the sensitivity of the situation.


    Not that it mattered. I wasn¡¯t the only one in the kingdom named Emiric.


    What a pathetic scoundrel. I never imagined he¡¯d swallow his pride and admit his mistakes. I know he¡¯s just spouting garbage, not because he believes he¡¯s wrong, but because he wants the world to see him as repentant. Power truly changes people.


    ¡°After taking the necessary steps, it became clear they were a group of terrorists trying by any means to shatter our unity. They exploited our sensitivities to assassinate citizens who sought to prove they had changed. Not satisfied with that, they tried to assassinate me and frame an honest businessman. Yes, I said honest. There is no evidence for the rumors being spread, proving the saying ¡®where there¡¯s smoke, there¡¯s fire¡¯ to be false. I say...¡±


    He pauses to breathe, looking directly at the camera as if staring into my soul.


    ¡°...that even ice produces smoke.¡±


    ¡°Hahaha!¡±


    The moment he finishes, I burst into uncontrollable laughter, hysterical and loud.


    It continues until I struggle to breathe.


    Finally, I pause to catch my breath, only for another fit of laughter to take over.


    ¡°Hahaha!¡±


    Everyone around me stares in bewilderment, wondering what could possibly be so funny.


    I had connected his words and demeanor to our school days¡ªthose moments of arrogance, that sense of superiority he used to exude. Where had it gone?


    For the first time since waking up in this body, I feel genuinely happy to have a second chance, if only to witness this look on his face. His expression may hide his inner turmoil, but his eyes reveal his frustration and helplessness.


    As I laugh hysterically, he continues his speech, oblivious to me, spewing more nonsense.


    ¡°Once again, I apologize, especially to Mr. Emiric. I also apologize for any panic I may have caused to... his wives.¡±


    Suddenly, without warning, my laughter stops, replaced by a coughing fit just as hysterical. Gasping for breath, I lift my head to see everyone¡ªespecially Azaria and Ivana¡ªstaring at me.


    In unison, they ask:


    ¡°How many wives do you have, exactly?¡±


    shit, am I in a harem novel?

 chapter 25 : Guardians of the Information

    The light shyly seeped through the modern window, as if hesitant to wake the sleeping plants lined up with precise regularity. If you tried to measure the distance between the plants, you wouldn¡¯t find an inch more or less.


    The same precision extended to the desk¡ªpens stood upright like buildings, and papers resembled playgrounds. The perfect geometry, coupled with the tranquility floating in the room, was something soothing to the nerves.


    Suddenly, the door creaked open, and in stepped the Scum with a face as expressionless as a statue. Who else would have such an excessively organized room?


    Let me clarify one thing: there is no Scum in this story other than null. Well, let¡¯s get back to the topic.


    The moment he entered, he walked straight toward the flowers.


    Suddenly, the statue-like face shifted, forming a complex terrain of emotions. He grabbed one of the plants and crushed it against the floor. And as if that wasn¡¯t enough, he moved from one plant to another, leaving them all in the same pitiful state. When he was done, his focus shifted to the desk. With a single sweeping motion, like a hurricane, the immaculate geometry was obliterated. The tranquil room now resembled a city ravaged by an apocalypse.


    A natural response, given that I had sent him back to his desk empty-handed and humiliated. I had even toyed with the investigative office and tarnished his reputation, making them look like children before the entire kingdom.


    At least, that¡¯s what I hoped he would do.


    But he had a self-control so strong that, instead of the chaos I envisioned, he simply approached one of the plants, picked up a glass, and began watering it, his expression unchanged.


    I can¡¯t forget when one of the instructors asked him about emotions, and his response was:


    ¡°If I let my emotions out even once, they may never return.¡±


    I can¡¯t explain how every girl who heard him turned their eyes into big, gleaming hearts.


    Knock, knock.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    His voice betrayed no hint of trembling or anger, yet you could sense that something wasn¡¯t quite right. A staff member entered, visibly nervous.


    ¡°Sir, the Chief requests a meeting with you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡±


    Finally, he stopped, placed the glass down, and left the room, heading toward the Chief¡¯s office without realizing that, lost in thought, he had overwatered the plant.


    On his way down the corridor, you could see men in suits greeting him, and the moment he passed, they started gossiping.


    Naturally, none of their whispers escaped his sharp hearing.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe the Deputy Chief lost to him.¡±


    ¡°Were we overestimating his abilities?¡±


    ¡°I told you he wasn¡¯t cut out for this kind of task.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t talk nonsense. No one really knows the nature of the mission.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but the only thing I¡¯m certain of is that wrecking the office wasn¡¯t part of the plan.¡±


    He continued walking, hearing his colleagues ridicule him. How could they not, now that they finally had a chance to pounce on him?


    To reach this position, he had to dig pits for them, flatter their superiors, and sometimes even make their missions blow up in their faces. Many were fired because of him¡ªor worse, met untimely ends. The moment they got the chance, they were ready to tear him apart.


    He had achieved so much, earning him the rank of the second most powerful man in the Investigative office. All they could do now was gossip, waiting for the moment he¡¯d fall so they could feast on his downfall.


    Knock, knock.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    The voice was rough and aged, with a grittiness that felt like dust being thrown in your face just from hearing it.


    He entered and bowed his head respectfully to the old man seated behind the desk.


    ¡°Mr. Chief.¡±


    Reclining lazily, with his head resting against the back of his chair as though it were a pillow, and his eyes shut from sheer indifference, the man raised a single finger as a form of acknowledgment.


    That arrogance, that haughtiness¡ªit was blown away in an instant. Now, he stood before his superior like a soaked kitten, hands clasped together as he waited for the old man to speak.


    ¡°You will appear in a press conference to clarify that this was a conspiracy by the kingdom¡¯s enemies to dismantle our unity.¡±


    ¡°As you command, sir.¡±


    I was amazed he didn¡¯t argue. Not out of a sensible acceptance of defeat, but because of his rationality.


    What¡¯s done is done, and what must be done must be done¡ªresistance would yield nothing.


    The old man opened his eyes, adjusted his posture, and looked directly at him. There was no anger in his gaze, though perhaps a hint of disappointment.


    ¡°Sit.¡±


    Seconds passed, yet null didn¡¯t comply with the command.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat myself.¡±


    He finally sat, lowering his gaze to the floor.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll submit a report to the Chief.¡±


    ¡°Put your report in your drawer after you write it. I¡¯m asking you what happened.¡±


    "It doesn''t fit, sir."


    ¡°Why?¡±


    He took his time responding, as if carefully considering what to say. Yet no matter how long he waited, no words came out of his mouth.


    ¡°He¡¯s unsuitable.¡±


    ¡°Unsuitable, or you don¡¯t want him to be suitable?¡±


    The old man¡¯s retort left him flustered. No matter how much he tried, he couldn¡¯t find a fitting or convincing response. It seemed I had short-circuited his brain.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on with you?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, sir.¡±


    The old man took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on null.


    ¡°From the moment you received his file¡ªfrom the moment you read his name¡ªyou¡¯ve been acting differently.¡±


    Once again, null found himself unable to respond, prompting the old man¡¯s eyes to narrow as a bone-chilling sound escaped his throat.


    ¡°Could it be that you had a prior connection with him?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Unlike his earlier, delayed responses, this denial came swiftly, causing the old man¡¯s features to relax slightly.


    ¡°Then stop your daydreaming and answer my questions properly.¡±


    This time, he forced himself to meet the old man¡¯s eyes, trying to clear his head.


    ¡°He¡¯s clever and ruthless. He doesn¡¯t seem to have a problem doing anything, no matter how vile or disgraceful.¡±


    ¡°Who said we want someone stupid or highly moral?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s unpredictable by nature. He¡¯ll only cause problems.¡±


    ¡°Because you couldn¡¯t anticipate his actions¡ªis that your excuse?¡±


    Finally, the statue-like face showed a flicker of struggle. He was genuinely trying to come up with something to argue with.


    ¡°Undisciplined, with a rebellious nature.¡±


    The old man could no longer bear it. He raised his voice, shaking the entire desk.


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak as if you don¡¯t know what he¡¯s going to be tasked with!¡±


    As if that wasn¡¯t enough, he slammed the file on the desk.


    Boom.


    Null picked up the file. The more he read, the harder it became for him to contain his anger.


    ¡°They requested weapon licensing paperwork. Their weapons weren¡¯t licensed.¡±


    ¡°I want all the licenses in his possession by tomorrow morning. Do you understand me?¡±


    He closed the file and stood up from his chair.


    ¡°At your command, sir.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a shame to lose. The shame is letting the loss consume you. Do you understand me?¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir. May I be excused?¡±


    After receiving permission, he moved toward the door but suddenly stopped and turned back.


    ¡°In the investigative file, it was mentioned that he has more than one wife.¡±


    As he spoke, the old man leaned back into his relaxed position on the chair.


    ¡°So what?¡±


    ¡°If possible, could we¡­¡±


    He hesitated, clearly unsure whether to proceed, but he pushed forward nonetheless.


    ¡°Could we request His Majesty to¡­¡±


    Before he could finish, the mere mention of ¡°His Majesty¡± made the old man jolt out of his chair, his eyebrows knitting together to create a web of wrinkles that made his face look even uglier.


    ¡°Have you lost your mind or what?¡±


    Null quickly bowed to absorb his anger.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It was just a suggestion.¡±


    The old man raised his voice even further.


    ¡°The file is presented to His Majesty twice: the first time was when we got the green light, and the second will be when His Majesty makes the decision!¡±


    Null kept apologizing with his cold expression intact.


    ¡°Sorry. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°What is the purpose of your existence? Have you lost your mind? Do you want His Majesty to do your work for you?¡±


    The old man continued throwing his fiery words at him. Apparently, these outbursts had become a common occurrence. Null didn¡¯t even bother waiting for him to calm down.


    He left the room, still muttering apologies, and even after he was gone, the old man¡¯s shouting followed him down the hall. Unfazed, he returned to his own room.


    Of course, I hear some smart alecks asking, How do you know all this when you weren¡¯t even there?


    My answer: shut fuck up.


    Who am I? The one who knows everything. Obviously, I¡¯d know. From my name, idiot. Anyway.


    After that Scum appeared on TV and dropped the bombshell on my head, I asked Hank about my wives. But he didn¡¯t know anything. I ordered him to dig into the documents, but it was useless.


    What makes it stranger is that their identities and number are not disclosed. In fact, they¡¯re protected by the protection Law.


    This means that even if I personally requested the government for information, they¡¯d refuse¡ªnot because they don¡¯t want to help, but because they don¡¯t know either.


    If I wanted to find out, the King himself would have to order the court to command the Chief of the Treasury of Information to unlock the vault and dive into the records to retrieve my data.


    Yes, all that complexity just to break the protection Law.


    That¡¯s how obsessed the kingdom is with preserving personal information.


    Boom.


    I slapped the file onto my desk, seething with anger.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I can¡¯t find out the simplest thing about myself.¡±


    I looked at Hank, standing in front of me.


    ¡°Is there any way to find out anything?¡±


    ¡°Sir, the only two entities authorized to override the protection Law are the King and the court. There is a way, but it could cause problems.¡±


    I interrupted him, too irritated to hear him out.


    ¡°Just say it.¡±


    ¡°Inform the court that you¡¯re experiencing a type of memory loss. After that, they will¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    No hesitation. If anyone found out, I¡¯d lose control over everything.


    The protection Law is designed to protect your personal data, preventing any party, no matter who they are, from accessing or sharing it¡ªexcept the court, and only for logical reasons like high treason.


    The King, on the other hand, can access any information he wants, whenever he wants, without explanation. And no one complains about it.


    The court may not disclose to the public the reasons behind my request to access my information, but that doesn¡¯t mean they wouldn¡¯t announce that they granted me permission. And that alone would be enough to spark rumors.


    I mean, why would someone request access to their personal information? Did they lose their memory?


    I sat down and lit a cigarette. It¡¯s better to burn tobacco than to burn my nerves¡ªthough, of course, my health is weeping in the corner.


    ¡°What about Amy¡¯s identity?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be ready in about ten minutes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good,very good.¡±


    I stood, a cigar in my mouth, a smirk spreading across my face.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go visit the lovely Amy and ask about her well-being. Does she need anything? Is she grateful for her stay here?¡±


    Without delay, Hank and I headed to the underground prison. A few steps, and we reached her cell.


    Waiting for me at the cell door were Azaria and Dexter.


    I quickly glanced at beautiful Amy.


    Damn it!


    Where is she?


    Who¡¯s this?


    ***********my turn***********


    Author: "Emiric my Dear, I have important information for you."


    Emiric: "What?"


    Author: "I know who your wives are, haha."


    Emiric: "It''s okay. You''re like a brother to me. You''re not a stranger, man."


    Author: "I''m now your brother? So take this."


    Emiric: "Give it to me."


    Author: "The King can know your wives unlike you. I mean, what kind of husband are you?"


    Emiric: "The rich and mysterious kind, obviously. Next question?"


    Author: "Oh, so mysterious you don¡¯t even know your own family? That¡¯s a whole new level."


    Emiric: "Better mysterious than nosy, don¡¯t you think? Speaking of which, why are you so curious about my wives?"


    Author: "Curious? Nah, I just enjoy watching you squirm. It¡¯s like my daily cardio."


    Emiric: "Well, congratulations. You¡¯re clearly in top shape. Now, fuck off."


    Author: "On the subject of ''fuck,'' you¡¯ve got wives and haven¡¯t done anything about it yet. "


    Emiric: "Get to the point son of a bitch.¡±"


    Author: "Brotherhood fades quickly, alright, let''s get to the point, your wives could be anywhere. Maybe in the kingdom. Maybe not. Maybe they¡¯re plotting a secret tea party to overthrow you."


    Emiric: "Tea parties are dangerous; I¡¯ll alert the guards."


    Author: "Ha! Imagine if the King attends. He probably knows their favorite flavors."


    Emiric: "Oh, I¡¯m sure he does. And he¡¯ll probably send me a list with recommendations just to rub it in."


    Author: "You should ask him for tips on being a husband. Clearly, you need them."


    Emiric: "Thanks, brother. When I do, I¡¯ll be sure to mention how much you idolize him."


    Author: "Idolize? Me? I just appreciate efficient monarchy."


    Emiric: "And I appreciate efficient silence. Shall we test it now?"


    Author: "Oof, someone¡¯s touchy. Fine, fine. I¡¯ll drop it¡­ for now."

 chapter 26: A battle of minds in the darkness of prison

    Amy¡¯s face was once a masterpiece¡ªa canvas of silk-soft skin, eyes sparkling like stars. Her lips were like delicate rose petals, and her cheeks carried a shy, lovely blush.


    But now, her face had become a battlefield. Ugly swellings marred her features, like tiny mountains erupting on her skin. Her eyes were sunken, encased in dark circles and surrounded by blue and red bruises. Her cracked lips were bleeding, with thin streaks of blood seeping from the corners of her mouth.


    Her cheeks, which had once been the source of her beauty, were now swollen and disfigured, covered in a layer of bruises and cuts. The lively glow in her eyes was gone, replaced by a hollow emptiness that reflected the pain she had endured.


    I frowned, raising a finger to point at her tied to the chair. I turned to Dexter, my voice cold.


    "What is this?"


    He looked at me like I¡¯d asked the most obvious question.


    "Sir, she¡¯s the assassin who tried to kill you."


    "Do you think I¡¯m stupid? I know who she is. I¡¯m asking about her face."


    Dexter stared at her, as if to double-check, before looking back at me.


    "Bruises,".


    My voice rose involuntarily.


    "I know the name. I¡¯m saying..."


    I stopped myself on purpose, taking a deep breath, relaxing my features, and repeating to myself, Calm down, calm down. It¡¯s not his fault he¡¯s slow to understand. Calm down.


    After composing myself, I locked eyes with him again.


    "Did I give you permission to torture her?"


    "No, sir."


    "Then?"


    "Then..."


    His blank expression, devoid of any understanding, made me raise my voice again.


    "Then why does her face look like this?"


    Suddenly, his eyes lit up like he¡¯d finally caught on to what I meant.


    "She was beaten. That¡¯s why her face looks like this."


    "..."


    I couldn¡¯t take it anymore. Why was I even discussing this with him? If I asked him again and he gave me such a stupid answer, I might kill him in a fit of rage.


    I turned away, shifting my gaze to Amy, ignoring Dexter. At least her body was intact. I couldn¡¯t help but feel pity for the beauty that had been destroyed.


    Wait¡ªshe tried to kill me. Why would I pity her? No, wait¡ªI pity her beauty, not her.


    I refuse to be that foolish protagonist who won¡¯t harm a woman no matter what. I won¡¯t be a beta protagonist¡ªthe kind I despise the most.


    The kind that sees beauty everywhere for no reason, and the worst part? He¡¯s never interested in any of it. I mean, what¡¯s the point of having a little brother in your life if you¡¯re never going to use him? Don¡¯t tell me it doesn¡¯t exist at all. pussy.


    "Sir, are her bruises not enough? Shall we move on to her body?"


    Lost in my thoughts, I didn¡¯t notice who had spoken at first. But from the nature of the words, who else could it be but Dexter? I turned to him.


    "What¡¯s wrong with you? Do you hate all that¡¯s beautiful? Did I ask you to do anything? Why are you even talking? Isn¡¯t it enough what you¡¯ve ruined? Are you never satisfied?"


    I kept saying everything that came to mind, my spit flying and landing on his face.


    The lunatic stood there like a statue, his expression confused, as if asking, What did I do? I would¡¯ve continued my rant until the sweet voice stopped me.


    "Sir, I was the one who spoke."


    Azaria, with her big blue eyes, looked at me with a gaze that could melt stone, in stark contrast to her words.


    "What did you say? You tortured her?"


    My eyes widened, and my eyebrows shot up.


    "Since my performance displeased you, I¡¯ll improve,".


    Without any delay, knives appeared out of nowhere in her hands, accompanied by a curved smile and eyes oozing with malice.


    Damn it, she¡¯s a yandere.


    She was about to step into the cell when my hand shot out to stop her. Her face wore a questioning look, like a child wondering why they couldn¡¯t play.


    I found no one to complain to except Hank, standing silently behind me.


    "What is this? Why don¡¯t you keep an eye on them?"


    He lowered his head apologetically.


    "Sorry, sir. I got distracted, so they resorted to barbarism."


    At least one of them had some sanity left.


    "Next time, I¡¯ll make sure they use the electric chair."


    Insanity. I''m surrounded by crazy people.


    "Ah, ah, ah,"


    Amy, the beautiful one¡ªor rather, Amy who used to be beautiful¡ªbegan coughing, blood spilling from her beautiful mouth. I mean once-beautiful¡ªwell, you get the point.


    You understand what I mean.


    She coughed, bringing up a large amount of blood from her formerly beautiful mouth.


    She coughed up a large amount of blood, sending me into a strange daze of thought.


    The moment I looked at her blood, something stirred within me¡ªI wanted her to spill more.


    The blood wasn¡¯t enough; I wanted more. It wasn¡¯t enough. I wanted to see more.


    Damn it, this thirst for blood. What am I? A vampire?


    I opened the cell door and sat in the chair opposite her, lightly slapping her beautiful  cheek¡ªno, her cheeks¡ªto wake her up.


    I needed to stop mourning her lost beauty.


    Her eyes fluttered open, and I made sure to be at her eye level.


    "Good morning. How¡¯s the hospitality? Did you enjoy our service?"


    "I¡¯ve... had worse than this... This is nothing,"


    She was struggling to move her swollen lips.


    "Oh, a strong girl! I love strong girls¡ªit¡¯s so much fun breaking them."


    I couldn¡¯t help but admire her. A girl like her, so composed. With her plans and influence, she¡¯d survived on her own without help. She was ready to die until I used her family against her.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    I couldn¡¯t help but compare her to Ivana¡ªone cared more about her family¡¯s honor than her own, while the other married just to destroy her family.


    The contrast made me wonder what her family¡¯s head had done to her to drive her to such vengeance, even at the cost of annihilating her entire family.


    "By the way, we¡¯ve circulated your picture among my men. We¡¯ll have your identity soon."


    I turned to Hank, who was already looking at his phone.


    "Five minutes, sir."


    "Five minutes? So, how about you tell me everything yourself? I might let you go."


    Her eyes shifted with difficulty.


    "You... are just ¡­bluffing..."


    I raised an eyebrow and glanced at everyone.


    "She doesn¡¯t believe me, Hank."


    What I liked about Hank was that he understood me with just a look. He immediately played along.


    "Don¡¯t worry, sir. There¡¯s still time to show her your generosity, but it might be too late for her by then."


    I sighed deeply, disappointment flashing in my eyes.


    "What can I say, Hank? Life is always so cruel to me. Look, I admired her bravery, so I thought I¡¯d give her a chance, but alas..."


    " The best you¡¯ll get is¡­ my family¡¯s identity... Beyond that¡­ you¡¯ll learn nothing¡­."


    That¡¯s the problem with a smart woman¡ªyou might admire her, but her danger keeps you at arm¡¯s length.


    I wanted to be a gentleman, but the world wouldn¡¯t let me.


    "And what use do you think you are to me? Why do you think I¡¯m keeping you here?"


    "I won¡¯t tell..."


    Her stammering began to bore me, so I cut her off. The bloodlust clouded my mind. I had to finish this quickly.


    "By the way, what¡¯s the brand and size of your underwear?"


    "..."


    Silence filled the cell. Amy¡¯s eyes seemed to regain life, only to give me a look of utter disbelief. It seemed she was trying to figure out my angle.


    She wasn¡¯t alone¡ªeveryone stared at me in shock, except Dexter, whose expression remained as blank as ever.


    "If you don¡¯t tell me, I¡¯ll just take a look by myself."


    Slowly, I moved my hand toward her, and her eyes flared with panic. Maybe she valued her family¡¯s honor more than her own, but that didn¡¯t mean she had none.


    "P... Pervert."


    She spoke the forbidden word. Instinctively, I stood, anger and indignation written across my face. My voice thundered, shaking the very air in the cell.


    "I am not a pervert..."


    A shiver ran through everyone as they looked into my eyes, awaiting my words. The tension in the cell suddenly thickened.


    In the same tone, I made sure everyone could hear me clearly, imprinting my words into their minds.


    "I am a man of culture."


    I didn¡¯t bother explaining further.


    No matter how much I explained, they wouldn¡¯t understand something so deep and complex. It¡¯s simply beyond their grasp. If you haven¡¯t crossed through certain realms, you can¡¯t comprehend greatness. I¡¯ll leave it at that.


    "Quickly now, make your choice: either tell me, or I¡¯ll take a look for myself. Please, don¡¯t resist. I¡¯d be more than happy to help you take off your clothes."


    Although her facial features no longer revealed much, her trembling body betrayed her anxiety.


    The psychology of a woman truly is strange. She showed no fear or hesitation throughout all this torture, but the moment her underwear came up, she was shaking all over.


    "W... what will you do with it?"


    "That¡¯s none of your business."


    Finally, she stopped resisting and began to utter the sacred words.


    "Hank."


    "Sir."


    Hank pulled out his phone to note what he heard, looking embarrassed.


    Still young, he couldn¡¯t handle something this simple. What if he heard someone say onii-chan? Would he faint on the spot?


    "You... you won¡¯t go back on your word, will you?"


    I placed a hand on one of my ears as I replied,


    "Sorry, which word are you referring to exactly?"


    "Bastard, I shouldn¡¯t have trusted you..."


    "Calm down. I was joking. Of course, I¡¯ll keep my word."


    I glanced at Hank, whose face was flushed red as he sent the information to one of our sources. He¡¯s really good. Without needing an explanation, he understood what I intended.


    Since Hank was busy with the phone, I looked around for someone to interact with and found no one but Dexter.


    "Dexter, tell her my titles."


    It was as if I¡¯d pressed an alarm button. He started off with no brakes.


    "Immoral, unscrupulous, untrustworthy..."


    Suddenly he stopped trying to remember the rest


    The moment he paused to think, I swear I saw smoke coming out of his ears. Fortunately, he gave up quickly, preserving the few brain cells he had left.


    "There are more, but I can¡¯t remember them all. There are just too many. Sir is famous."


    Another silence settled over the room.


    "What? Did I say something wrong?"


    "No, it¡¯s not your fault."


    Returning to the matter at hand, I addressed her again.


    "If I had any ill intentions, I¡¯d have spread your picture everywhere, wouldn¡¯t I? Why would I waste my time with you?"


    "I can tell you her identity if you give me a chance,"


    came a voice from the shadows of the cell.


    It was the one person I feared the most so far¡ªnone other than the man with the burned face.


    I turned to Hank, waiting for an explanation.


    "Sir, I chose this cell based on your request to keep as far from him as possible... I don¡¯t know how he heard us."


    Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the cell and walked toward the ominous voice. Dexter tried to follow me, but I stopped him in his tracks and continued alone.


    Because of Dexter¡¯s impulsive nature and inability to control his anger, I decided not to tell him about my memory loss, fearing he might let something slip unintentionally. You never know what could happen.


    I had once asked Hank about the identity of the scarred man, but he didn¡¯t know. Apparently, Dexter was the one assigned to handle him personally.


    No need to think too much; I knew something was wrong the moment our eyes met.


    Now, despite the great distance between the cells, he¡¯d heard us, which meant the body¡¯s owner had given him the serum. The question was, why give it to him and then imprison him? Or did he imprison him first and then give him the serum?


    But it didn¡¯t make sense. He had plenty of animals to test the serum on, and it was clear he wasn¡¯t on good terms with the scarred man.


    The prison beneath the mansion was shrouded in darkness. If not for the torches barely lighting the path, I wouldn¡¯t have dared approach him. I stood before his cell like a statue, the shadows concealing us both, preventing eye contact.


    "Look at fate. The great Emiric stands before me, afraid of me, hahaha."


    "Let¡¯s not start like this. Provocation strategies won¡¯t work on me. It¡¯s clear your power is starting to manifest, and it¡¯s also clear it has something to do with reading minds. That¡¯s why you offered me help now. State your terms."


    I didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d seen the first time he looked into my eyes. I had to show no weakness before him.


    "Hahaha."


    Damn his laugh.


    "It seems I forgot that you are still you, memory loss or not."


    So, he knows about the memory loss.


    "How did you know about the memory loss?"


    "Don¡¯t play dumb now. You¡¯re trying to extract information from me without giving anything in return. Obviously, you deduced it from our previous encounter."


    So, he really had read my thoughts. What else had he seen?


    "Are you wondering what else I might¡¯ve seen?"


    Damn it. Damn it. Has his power evolved? Can he read thoughts without eye contact now?


    Involuntarily, I took a few steps back to widen the distance between us, hoping his abilities were range-dependent.


    "Don¡¯t worry. My powers are still limited because I can¡¯t see you. It was just a guess. Relax, hahaha."


    Damn it. I couldn¡¯t relax. I couldn¡¯t predict his thoughts without seeing his face or his eyes. Facing him left me utterly exposed. I was truly powerless here.


    "Are you going to say what you have, or..."


    He snorted.


    "You still don¡¯t know who I am, do you?"


    While not answering his speculation was an answer in itself, there was nothing I could do. The bastard was smart. I had to admit it. Combined with his ability, he was terrifying.


    "If I knew even a little about you, you wouldn¡¯t tell my identity to anyone¡ªnot counting that dumb kid you¡¯ve tamed. But because of your memory loss, you¡¯re completely in the dark, just like the darkness you¡¯re standing in now. He¡¯s too unreliable¡ªhis anger is one thing, and his stupidity is another, isn¡¯t it?"


    "Stop whispering and trying to get into my head. If your next sentence doesn¡¯t include anything useful, no matter how you wag your tail after I walk away, I won¡¯t come back and give you another chance."


    "I can restore your memory. Do you think that¡¯s an interesting enough sentence?"


    Restore my memory? Could he really? Of course, this body isn¡¯t mine, and technically, it¡¯s my soul that entered it. The original owner¡¯s memory should be stored somewhere in the brain.


    With his mental abilities, he could access my mind and unlock closed doors, but it was incredibly risky.


    "As proof of my sincerity, I¡¯ll read the girl¡¯s mind. Your idea to use her clothing brand as a lead was smart, but all it would do is narrow your search. There¡¯s still a lot of work and time involved. I can save you all that trouble."


    Damn his intelligence.


    Fine, Hank wasn¡¯t the only one who figured it out. Why wouldn¡¯t he?


    But leaving everything in his hands irritated me, especially since I didn¡¯t know who he was or have any way to ensure he¡¯d keep his word.


    Does he only read minds? Can he control them? Even if he couldn¡¯t now, like the lab samples, his abilities could evolve over time. If he couldn¡¯t now, he might be able to tomorrow.


    Danger. Danger. Danger.


    "Sir."


    I turned toward Hank¡¯s voice.


    He really was someone reliable.


    He stood at a distance where his voice was barely audible to me, careful not to take a single step closer so he wouldn¡¯t hear anything I didn¡¯t want him to.


    I approached him, and he handed me his phone.


    "We¡¯ve received her information,".


    I took the phone and read the details.


    Damn it.


    Clutching the phone, I rushed out without sparing the scarred man another glance, leaving the prison and heading upstairs.


    Do I look like a joke to you?

 Chapter 27: The Blur of Trust, the Clarity of Danger

    I have a trust issue, one engraved into my very bones.


    To trust someone, I need...


    I don¡¯t even know what I need to do. I''ve never trusted anyone before.


    There¡¯s a difference between trusting someone and being forced to trust someone.


    My whole life, I¡¯ve been forced¡ªnot just to trust, but to do everything.


    Ever since I woke up in this body, I¡¯ve been trying to save my life. The thought of running away to somewhere safe always crosses my mind, but escaping the unknown is impossible.


    You need to know the limits of its power, then plan how to destroy it. If you can¡¯t destroy it, you flee. If fleeing isn¡¯t an option, then your only choice left is to join it.


    That was my mindset when I first woke up. But the more I discovered, the more I found myself not climbing out of a hole but sinking deeper into it.


    The final blow for me was the existence of a superpower.


    Sooner or later, if I don¡¯t make my steps firm, I¡¯ll be doomed.


    All my experience and knowledge come from watching series and movies, anime, or reading novels and some articles, which makes me ask myself: Can I apply that to the real world? I don¡¯t know, and I won¡¯t know until I try.


    To try, I need to surround myself with people I can trust. Due to my psychological issues, I need something tangible to trust someone.


    Something I can hold in my hands to guarantee their loyalty. For instance, their neck¡ªso if they betray me, I can squeeze the life out of them.


    Every step I take toward her room feels like fuel feeding the fire of my anger, which was already at its peak.


    The thing I hated most in my past life was being manipulated. I had to swallow it back then, but now, why should I tolerate something disgusting? It''s easy to take it out of my mouth and spit it out.


    Boom!


    I force the door open with my hand, revealing a girl wrapped in a towel around her waist, holding another towel as she dries her golden hair.


    Because of my sudden entrance, she pauses what she''s doing and looks straight at me, her expression void of any special emotion.


    For a moment, I thought she would scream and call me a pervert, but no matter how long I waited, she didn¡¯t say a word. She just stared at me, waiting for me to state the reason for barging into her room.


    As for me, stunned by the beauty in front of me, I froze as if I had forgotten the reason for my anger. But I quickly snapped back to my senses.


    If you¡¯re not bothered about being seen almost naked, why should I care? Let¡¯s get to the point.


    I approach her and, with a swift motion, toss the phone onto her bed.


    "You must have a logical explanation for this, don¡¯t you?"


    Calmly, she picks up the phone and begins reading.


    I watch her beautiful features, but there¡¯s no raised eyebrow, no flicker of surprise in her eyes, not even the slightest change in her demeanor. She¡¯s not shocked, then.


    "I didn¡¯t know."


    Her response feels like an insult to my intelligence, but I don¡¯t jump to conclusions. I allow her to elaborate.


    "..."


    She closes her mouth as if what she said should be enough to convince me.


    "Is that all you have? Does my amnesia make me look like a clown to you?"


    I step closer, shrinking the distance between us even more. I can¡¯t fully explain the dark thoughts this body carries. If I hadn¡¯t spent time adapting and controlling it, I would¡¯ve already pounced on her.


    "If you knew the family structure, you wouldn¡¯t be this upset."


    "What kind of structure allows a family member to enter the mansion and attempt to assassinate me right in front of you, and you don¡¯t even recognize them?"


    I stand so close to her that there¡¯s nothing between us. Even the air seems to struggle to pass between us.


    My hand begins trembling, itching to be set free, to explore the adventure of choking her delicate neck. But, of course, I don¡¯t let it¡ªat least not yet. Not until I understand everything.


    "If I didn¡¯t recognize her, then she¡¯s an illegitimate child."


    She answers in her cold yet sweet voice, her eyes locked onto mine without blinking, as she continues her sentence after seeing my unconvinced reaction.


    "Clearly, she doesn¡¯t know who I am either."


    All I can do is continue staring at her, drowning in her face and her words.


    "The biggest proof of that is that after seeing me, she didn¡¯t change her plan."


    Doubt creeps into my heart at this point. What I¡¯m debating now in my mind is what the best decision would be¡ªgetting rid of her or keeping her.


    "An illegitimate child in the family would want to accomplish something notable to gain the family''s approval. The moment she saw me, she should have reported it to the family."


    "Why?"


    Finally, she catches my attention, pulling me out of my train of thought.


    "There are two possibilities when one of the main lineage members is outside: Either I¡¯m achieving something important for the family, or I¡¯m betraying them. In either case, the best course of action is to inform the family to avoid a major disaster."


    I step back. Even though she doesn¡¯t show any reaction, somehow I can sense the pressure on her. I create a small space between us to try to ease the tension.


    "Are you part of the main lineage?"


    I had a list of possibilities, and one of them was her being from the main lineage. But I quickly crossed it out because I couldn¡¯t find an answer to one question: Why would she want to kill her father?


    "Yes, I am¡­"


    Finally, some emotion. She pauses, a hint of hesitation on her face, but she denies me any further reaction as she abruptly turns, showing me her flawless white back, and picks up her towel to continue drying her hair.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    "I used to be¡­ but not anymore."


    "What does that mean?"


    My confusion is evident in my voice.


    My knowledge of the Four Families and the royal family is limited. Yes, there are rumors, but most of them are unverifiable gossip, and they never talk about internal matters¡ªonly external scandals and moral failings.


    Not to mention how contradictory these rumors often are, making their likelihood nearly zero.


    Most of them don¡¯t appear on screens except for the important ones¡ªchildren and grandchildren. Even their numbers are unknown. Who will inherit after the current leader isn¡¯t announced until the exact moment they ascend to the position.


    I¡¯m talking about someone like me, a commoner. As for the families themselves, I assume they know. I think.


    No matter how long I wait for her, she doesn¡¯t respond.


    "Stop hiding things from me, or else¡­"


    She turns around abruptly, cutting me off.


    "Or else what? You¡¯ll kill me?"


    I freeze in shock, not because of her words, but because of the overwhelming emotions I see on her face.


    It¡¯s like a smooth desert where you could barely see any terrain, and then suddenly, the desert turns into a lush forest filled with rivers and lakes.


    I don¡¯t understand how she can go from nothing to everything in an instant.


    "Secrets? Who¡¯s hiding from whom here?"


    Her voice rises with each breath she takes.


    "What secrets are you talking about now?"


    "What about your wives? How many do you have? Do you abuse them?"


    Where did that come from? I¡¯m so stunned that I don¡¯t even know what to say anymore.


    "You know you¡¯re talking to someone who lost his memory."


    "Amnesia doesn¡¯t make you a different person."


    Her reply makes sense, but I refuse to accept defeat.


    "Don¡¯t talk as if our marriage is built on love."


    My words seem to hit her like a hammer, and I can see her biting the corner of her lip.


    "But it was built on mutual trust between us."


    I narrow my eyes, refusing to believe her nonsense.


    "Stop spouting rubbish. It¡¯s clear I was the kind of person who trusted no one."


    She grabs the towel, squeezing it tightly in her hands, and suddenly throws it at my face, blinding me for a moment.


    "Idiot."


    For a split second, it feels like I¡¯ve stepped into a scene straight out of an anime. I pull the towel off my face to restore my sight, only to find her staring down at herself. It¡¯s as if she¡¯s just realized she¡¯s wearing nothing but the towel wrapped around her, exposing most of her pale skin.


    Her white skin gradually starts turning red, and she glances at me, which only deepens the blush on her face.


    What I had expected to happen the moment I barged into the room is suddenly happening now.


    "Pervert!"


    She screams the forbidden word at the top of her lungs and dashes into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.


    Reacting instinctively, I step closer to the bathroom.


    Knock, knock.


    "Open the door. What¡¯s with you all of a sudden? Are you trying to avoid me by¡ª"


    The handle I¡¯m holding onto to try opening the door melts away like ice cream in the middle of summer. Instead of falling to the floor, it seems to choose the door itself as its destination, merging seamlessly with it.


    Naturally, the same thing happens with the gaps between the door and the wall. A complete fusion, as if the door had never existed in the first place. Nanotechnology.


    No matter what I try, just as Hank taught me, the door doesn¡¯t return to its original state.


    I was about to say something when I remembered that all the walls were soundproof.


    Knock, knock.


    "Sir."


    The sound of knocking comes from the door outside the room, accompanied by Hank¡¯s voice.


    Annoyed, I respond,


    "What is it, Hank?"


    "Sorry to disturb you, but your meeting with the heirs of your partners is approaching, and you need to review the relevant documents."


    "Wait for me. I¡¯ll be out in a moment."


    I stand in place, contemplating, and take a deep breath.


    They never give me a moment to rest. Everything comes at me in rapid succession.


    What exactly is Ivana¡¯s problem? I feel like if I could understand her, I¡¯d understand the entire world.


    The ice queen who seemed indifferent and uninterested suddenly transforms into a volcano of overflowing emotions. And her family¡¯s situation is another enigma.


    Did Amy act on her own, or was she sent? Does Ivana truly not know about her, or is she just pretending? Does she genuinely want revenge, or am I caught in the middle of a long, intricate scheme?


    I finally leave the room after taking a moment to relax, finding Hank waiting for me.


    "What do you think we should do with Amy, Hank?"


    "In response to you, sir, Amy is now a double-edged sword. My suggestion is to contact the Bloodsoil family and hand her over to them. That way, we¡¯d gain their debt of gratitude."


    We talk as we walk toward the office.


    "I promised her I wouldn¡¯t involve her family in this matter."


    "¡­"


    Hank falls silent for a moment. I know what he¡¯s thinking, but I ignore it. It¡¯s obvious the body¡¯s original owner wasn¡¯t someone who kept his promises.


    But I want to change that. It¡¯s not about ethics or morals. The issue is that you can¡¯t imagine how many situations and events are impossible to solve without building a foundation based on the credibility of my words.


    To survive in this kingdom, I need to rely on outlaws or the spirit of the people. Both would be easier to control if I established the image of someone who keeps their word.


    "Let¡¯s use all the information we have on her to create a map of every possible location she¡¯s been. Also, gather police records on how and when she met that old man who came with her."


    "Understood. It will be done."


    It was mentioned by Null that he was looking for information about her, but of course, he was lying. As soon as he starts investigating, he¡¯ll notice difficulties and ambiguity in his search, which will make him suspect that she belongs to one of the families and halt his investigation.


    He won¡¯t want to get involved because there¡¯s a law preventing police, military, or even regular government employees from engaging with the Four Families unless there¡¯s clear evidence.


    Of course, you must provide proof to substantiate your claims, which leads to a thorough investigation that can take no less than a year. During that year, the suspect is suspended from their position, meaning a headache in simple terms.


    But he might find a way to act discreetly, so I must uncover everything about her, hoping to find something of value.


    I step into the office, where mountains of papers and documents are stacked.


    "What¡¯s all this?"


    "Sir, these are all the details you need to know about our business dealings."


    "Do I need to learn and memorize all this before the heirs arrive? How much time do I have?"


    "In response to you, sir, about two hours. I¡¯ve organized the files from most important to least important to make it easier for you, along with summaries of the secondary points."


    Of course, I won¡¯t trust them blindly, but given the limited time and the imminent arrival of the guests, I don¡¯t think Hank would be foolish enough to give me false information that I¡¯d easily catch. Plus, I plan to go through all the original drafts when I have spare time.


    I take a deep breath. Hank and I remain in the office, where he simplifies anything difficult to grasp and summarizes what¡¯s hard to absorb.


    I¡¯ve grown accustomed to being surprised. The wealth and assets of this body¡¯s owner didn¡¯t shock me¡ªI already knew he was rich.


    What¡¯s odd is that everything is legal. Of course, there¡¯s an illegal side, and that¡¯s Hank¡¯s role in filling in the gaps.


    Time passes, and it gets late, but the guests haven¡¯t arrived. This prompts Hank to step out and make calls to find out what¡¯s going on, while I remain immersed in the sea of papers.


    Hank returns with Dexter in tow.


    "Sir."


    "Sir."


    They both greet me, but I don¡¯t give Hank a chance to speak.


    "Let me guess. They¡¯re not coming, are they?"


    "In response to you, sir, there hasn¡¯t been any mention of their private vehicles leaving."


    From just a bit of swimming through these papers, it wasn¡¯t hard to predict this.


    Well, that¡¯s good for me.


    A smile spreads across my face as I pick up a cigarette and light it.


    Ever since I saw Amy¡¯s blood, I¡¯ve been itching to spill some blood myself.


    "Hank, Dexter, let¡¯s go and have ourselves a little dance."


    ********what**********


    Emiric: what can i say about ivana beside one word. Women.

 chapter 28: Just a trash cleaning trip

    How many properties does the owner of this body possess?


    A lot.


    There are about five mansions, in addition to the one I currently live in, scattered across the kingdom.


    There are also about nine branches of a private company specializing in investments and loans.


    There are also nightclubs and specialized shops in various fields that he either owns or whose owners he previously loaned money to.


    It seems he was keen on entering every field available to him.


    Except for the domains controlled by the four families, you can do whatever you want.


    For example, the Bloodsoil family specializes in everything related to the land¡ªwhat is grown on it and what is extracted from it. If you want to enter these fields, you must get permission from the family itself, which will impose certain conditions.


    Of course, there are other activities, such as financing underground arenas. Arenas mean betting, and betting means money¡ªbut that''s illegal.


    As for the transportation sector, anyone can work in it, but it seems he didn''t want to get directly involved.


    Instead, he approached those who already had the capabilities and expertise in the field and invested large sums in them.


    Having read enough of the file, I place it on the seat beside me and rest my head on my hand as I look out the window, gazing at the towering buildings.


    Over the past five years, the kingdom''s architectural aesthetics have noticeably improved.


    "Sir, we¡¯ll arrive in five minutes."


    Hank, sitting in the front seat as usual, speaks. Next to him is Dexter, the driver.


    "What¡¯s our legal standing with them?"


    "In response to your, sir, from a legal perspective, we gave them money that they are supposed to repay with interest. However, the true nature of our agreement involves using their trucks to transport certain goods."


    "Do they know the nature of these goods?"


    "Sir, even I don¡¯t know everything for sure. I know about some of the goods, but it¡¯s clear there¡¯s more that I¡¯m not privy to."


    There¡¯s nothing in the documents, and Hank¡ªcurrently my right-hand man¡ªalso doesn¡¯t know the details. The owner of this body really didn¡¯t trust anyone.


    What kind of illegal activity would require such a large number of trucks? The only thing that comes to mind is the serum, but wouldn¡¯t that draw too much attention? I mean, how hard could it be to transport something as small as a serum?


    Wouldn¡¯t it be better to move it discreetly, attracting less suspicion?


    The car comes to a stop, and Dexter quickly exits to open the door for me. I can¡¯t help but give him a blank stare¡ªwhat¡¯s with the overkill?


    Dexter glances at Hank with eyes full of pride as if he¡¯s achieved some great feat, but unfortunately, Hank¡¯s response is only indifference.


    Do these two have some sort of rivalry?


    Anyway, I glanced at the site. It¡¯s a large yard filled with trucks of various colors and shapes, waiting their turn to be loaded.


    We start walking, only to find someone blocking our path.


    "Where do you think you¡¯re going?"


    We¡¯re not going to waste time with secondary characters, are we?


    A strong punch to the face from Dexter sends the man crashing to the ground. Without stopping, I continue walking toward the center of the yard, where I see workers either carrying or dragging items to load onto one of the trucks.


    In the middle of the yard, chairs are arranged in a semicircle. Seated on them are four men with bloated bodies and frog-like faces, eating voraciously as if they hadn¡¯t seen food in their lives.


    "Look who has graced us with his presence¡ªMr. Emiric, the most famous man in the kingdom."


    One of them speaks with his mouth full, lounging on his chair. At the very least, he could have swallowed his food first.


    Dexter steps forward, standing behind one of the men. With his foot, kicks him, sending him sprawling to the ground as though forcing him to kneel before me. Dexter then grabs the man¡¯s chair and drags it behind me for me to sit.


    Because of this simple act, the men straighten up in their seats, abandoning their food. All the workers suddenly freeze, directing their gazes toward the center of the yard, awaiting any order from the men to intervene.


    I cross one leg over the other and lean back in the chair. Not bad. I light a cigar and begin speaking with a provocative smile on my face.


    "I assume you have a convincing excuse for not attending my invitations, correct?"


    The men exchange glances, their expressions sarcastic. They start laughing boisterously.


    "Hahahaha!"


    With every laugh they let out, their bellies jiggle, along with their yellow teeth. I can¡¯t even begin to describe how hideous the scene before me is.


    Still wearing the same smile, I wait for them to finish their performance.


    "Where does this confidence come from, pretty boy? Do you think that just because we owe you some money, we¡¯ve become your subordinates?"


    He finishes his words and spits in my direction, the spit landing near my foot. Dexter tries to step forward, but I gesture for him to stay put. He obeys with a grim expression.


    Why the anger? It''s just a cliche scene that will end with me slapping their faces.


    I extend my hand to Hank, standing to my right, to give me a file. I open it and start speaking as I leaf through it.


    "We agreed with your father that the trucks would transport goods from one location to another, and with every delivery, his debt would be reduced."


    I finish flipping through the papers and hand the file back to Hank, directing my attention to the man who spoke earlier.


    "Based on the unpaid debts, you¡¯re far from being in a position to say those words confidently."


    The man scratches his eyebrows with a yellow-toothed grin.


    "And what will you do about it? I won¡¯t pay. I won¡¯t deliver. I¡¯d love to see how far you¡¯re willing to go with your threats."


    He gestures with his hand, signaling the workers to advance toward us. Suddenly, we¡¯re surrounded, with no way out.


    I narrow my eyes at the four men.


    Dexter pulls a black knife from his sleeve, waiting for my command to leap at them. He¡¯s not afraid of anything. By my count, there are no fewer than fifteen of them, each armed with a knife or an iron rod.


    "What exactly are you relying on?"


    "Me? Hahaha. No, what are you relying on? You¡¯re public enemy number one. As if that¡¯s not enough, you¡¯ve also become the enemy of the investigation office. You¡¯ll fall sooner or later, which means I don¡¯t have to pay you a cent. And you can¡¯t report me either because I¡¯ll tell them you¡¯re smuggling illegal goods. See? That¡¯s what I¡¯m relying on."This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Honestly, I can¡¯t blame him. I¡¯d even give him points for trying to use his brain.


    The common perception remains the same. The spirit of the people may be dead, but that doesn¡¯t mean the kingdom¡¯s power has diminished in their eyes.


    It¡¯s clear his father never told him the true nature of the agreement. The body¡¯s owner promised them high-ranking positions. I don¡¯t know how he convinced them, but he made them believe that taking over the kingdom was possible.


    The only thing that comes to mind is the serum. But it¡¯s impossible he would reveal something so vital and dangerous to them.


    "What do you think about me killing you here? Do you think the kingdom would miss a group of former criminals?"


    Their harsh gazes remain unchanged. They aren''t taking things seriously. This only fuels my anger, which will inevitably lead to their greater suffering.


    "Look at the pretty boy. I''d love to see how you''re going to do it."


    I raise a finger and raise my voice.


    "100,000 for betraying these men."


    Their eyes dart back and forth, glancing at one another, and suddenly laughter erupts from all directions.


    "Yeah, he''s really just a spoiled kid with a silver spoon in his mouth who thinks he can buy us."


    "Who does he think he is?"


    "Sir, let me cut out his tongue. His voice is annoying."


    Their attempts to insult me grow more creative, but whatever. As long as I get what I want in the end, they can amuse themselves for now.


    I take a puff from my cigar.


    "How about 200,000? I think that''s a decent offer."


    "Hahaha."


    "He¡¯s truly insane. You''ve made yourself look even more foolish."


    "Alright then, let¡¯s say 300,000."


    "Hahaha."


    "He doesn¡¯t get it. Did he hit his head? Why would I give up working here for such a measly sum?"


    The laughter continues. I glance at the man with the frog-like face. I don¡¯t see any fear in his eyes. Is he confident in his men¡¯s loyalty, or is there something else?


    "500,000. I think that¡¯s more than enough."


    Discontent begins to bubble up among the workers. Their eyes are now fixed on their leaders. I see now¡ªhe¡¯s threatening them with something. Let¡¯s see how strong his threats really are.


    "Sir, let me shut his filthy mouth for you."


    "Everyone stop. Let the clown have his fun."


    "Hahaha."


    "Oh, I am so grateful for your generosity. I wronged you when I compared you to pigs. It turns out you simply share their exceptional talent for eating and wallowing in filth. But it seems even pigs have a shred of dignity that you lack."


    Some of the workers can¡¯t suppress their quiet laughter. The situation is becoming clear. Let¡¯s end this.


    "One million. I think that¡¯s enough for a fresh start."


    "He¡¯s just a clueless child who doesn¡¯t even understand the value of money. Just beat him and those dogs with him, then toss them out. If they die, the police will come knocking at our door. Hurry up!"


    As soon as he finishes speaking, some of the workers start moving forward. One of them seems particularly eager to be the first to obey.


    He gets closer and closer. I notice Dexter preparing to stop him, but it seems he¡¯s learned to wait for my cue. He looks at me, and of course, I stop him, allowing the worker to approach, muttering all the while.


    "One million? Are you an idiot? What are we all supposed to do with such a small amount?"


    I stand up suddenly. The movement is so fast that no one can see it, but they all hear it.


    Boom.


    A slap sends the worker flying back to his group, soaring as though he¡¯s been launched into the air.


    "Do you think I¡¯m as poor as you?"


    No one expected me to have this kind of strength. The shock freezes everyone in place like statues, and my words only add to their confusion.


    "A bunch of fools. I said one million for each of you."


    I finish speaking, return to my seat, and resume smoking my cigar, wearing a look of annoyance.


    Everyone¡¯s eyes begin to gleam.


    We¡¯re done here.


    One of the frog-faced men stands, clearly overtaken by fear at last. What¡¯s wrong? Weren¡¯t you confident in your men? What changed?


    "Haha¡­ Do¡­ do you think we¡¯re stupid?"


    Before he can finish, I cut him off.


    "Yes, I think you¡¯re stupid. What are you going to do about it?"


    Sweat beads on his forehead as he tries to raise his voice to regain control.


    "He¡¯s just a kid. Let¡¯s get this¡­"


    "Just shut up."


    A voice interrupts him, coming from among the workers. One of them steps forward, seemingly representing the rest.


    He bows slightly, and unlike before, his tone is polite and refined.


    "Sir, is what I heard true? Each of us will get one million?"


    I lift my eyes slightly to him.


    "If you don¡¯t want it¡ª"


    "Of course we want it. Of course we want it."


    "What are you doing, you traitor? Have you forgotten your families are in my hands?"


    The same worker cuts him off.


    "Yeah, yeah. If you survive, you can try."


    Everyone begins ignoring his rambling, focusing solely on me.


    "Hank."


    "At your command, sir."


    As usual, he pulls out his phone and, with a few taps, a series of notification chimes ring out from the workers¡¯ pockets, signaling the arrival of a message on their phones.


    Suddenly, their faces light up, their eyes glowing with excitement.


    "Thank you for your generosity."


    "Thank you for your generosity."


    "Thank you for your generosity."


    "Thank you for your generosity."


    They bow their heads and begin to leave the yard, dropping their weapons on the ground. One by one, the yard empties, leaving only me and the remaining frog-faced men.


    The man who had been so relaxed is now sweating and trembling.


    "No¡­ no, you can¡¯t do this. I spoke with¡­"


    Before a second passes, I¡¯m in front of him. Before he can comprehend what¡¯s happening, he finds my foot meeting his face, sending his body to the ground where it belongs¡ªamong his kind, the dirt.


    Boom.


    The other three stand frozen in terror, watching their companion sprawled out on the ground, my foot pressing down on his head.


    "What were you saying? Who did you speak with?"


    A noise escapes his mouth. I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s from the pain or an attempt to answer my question.


    "Dexter."


    As though unchained, Dexter springs into action, slashing through the other three with his dagger, leaving them screaming and collapsing without killing them.


    "Every time I ask a question, I expect one of you to answer."


    I lift my foot only to slam it down harder this time.


    "Aaaahhhhh!"


    The ground was filthy to begin with, but now, with their blood soaking into it, it¡¯s an artistic masterpiece.


    "The King of the Underworld¡­ he told us he would protect us¡­ that you¡¯d die by his hands sooner or later¡­ We¡¯re sorry. Please forgive us."


    The King of the Underworld? I feel like I¡¯ve heard that name before. They didn¡¯t say anything except¡­ What was his name again?


    "Are you talking about the Faceless?"


    His name was too distinctive for me to forget.


    Hank steps closer and whispers.


    "Sir, the so-called ¡®uncrowned king¡¯ of the underworld is someone else."


    I turn to him, raising an eyebrow.


    "Do you know anything about him?"


    "All I know is that he¡¯s currently the most influential figure. He¡¯s responsible for over half the illegal activities you¡¯ve already managed to take control of."


    Ah, another enemy. Good. Let him join the queue.


    I grab the man by the hair and lift him to face me. I should test the limits of this body¡¯s strength. The serum seems to have enhanced it.


    "You¡¯re saying you feared him but didn¡¯t fear me. Isn¡¯t that right?"


    "Sir, sir, we didn¡¯t know you. Please, forgive us."


    I smile.


    "Alright, I¡¯ll forgive you. But to ensure you don¡¯t make this mistake again, I¡¯ll make sure you understand me clearly. Isn¡¯t that fair?"


    "We¡¯ve learned, we¡¯ve learned!"


    "No, I¡¯d rather confirm it myself."


    The moment I finish speaking, I slam his face into the ground and start punching him repeatedly.


    Boom.


    Boom.


    Boom.


    I finish with one and move on to the next in the same manner. You know I¡¯m a fair and democratic person¡ªI believe in equality.


    On the ground, their hideous faces have become even uglier, unrecognizable, drenched in blood. I intentionally leave one of them conscious to hear and remember my words.


    I stand in the middle and try to wipe the blood off my hands with the tissue Hank offers me.


    "Tell the others when they wake up to hire new men."


    Though he can¡¯t move his neck, he nods like a dog, a clear sign he understands.


    "I want everything delivered on time without delay. Do you understand?"


    He nods faster.


    "Good, good."


    I start walking toward the car but stop.


    "If you try to go after the workers¡­"


    I don¡¯t even finish the threat before he blurts out.


    "We won¡¯t¡­ we won¡¯t."


    "Good."


    I get into the car, cigar still in my mouth.


    "How many more places do we have to visit?"


    "There are nine more, sir."


    Just thinking about how much blood my hands will be drenched in gets me excited. Damn, I''m really a psychopath


    "Alright then, let¡¯s go. There are plenty of bones that need breaking."


    "Haha."

 Chapter 29: The light among the darkness

    I do not know whether the room is in darkness or if the darkness resides in the room. Thankfully, there is one rebellious window that disobeyed its orders, allowing a thin ray of light to pass through.


    But what can it do? I could barely make out the features of the man lying on the massive bed. His face was¡ªnot handsome nor ugly enough to be called ordinary¡ªif not for the scar stretching from one ear to the other.


    His head, devoid of hair, resembled an egg, completing the portrait.


    He struggled to open his eyes, embodying every meaning of laziness. The sun was nearing its descent, yet he still clung to the pillow.


    He raised his head slightly, glancing to his sides, noticing he was flanked by two naked women¡ªliterally without clothes.


    With a kick, he pushed the women off the bed, sending them tumbling to the floor.


    The women seemed drugged, for they did not wake, nor did they emit any sound of pain from falling on the hard ground.


    He leaned his head back lazily, took a deep breath, and screamed in a voice that made the entire room tremble.


    "You useless trash, what are you doing there?"


    The sound of a rusty door creaking open filled the room. A man entered, his face etched with terror and his body trembling.


    "Your Majesty..."


    "What are these whores doing beside me?"


    The man stepped closer, allowing the thin ray of light to reveal his servant''s attire.


    "My lord... I thought you enjoyed yourself."


    "Do I look like I''m enjoying myself now?"


    Frankly, if I were in his place, I¡¯d have said, The darkness is overwhelming¡ªhow can I see your filthy face to tell? But of course, he wouldn¡¯t dare say that.


    "I apologize, I¡¯ll rectify the situation."


    Clap.


    With a clap of his hands, two massive men appeared, moving forward to lift the women like sacks of potatoes.


    "Wait. Don''t do anything to them until I''m there."


    The two men bowed to the bald man.


    "As you command, my Lord."


    They exited, leaving the servant and the bald man alone.


    "My lord, should I open the windows to let in some light?"


    "What? That damned ball hasn¡¯t gone down yet?"


    "The sun is about to set, my Lord."


    The bald man exhaled deeply, waving his hand dismissively at the servant.


    The window was opened, letting in a faint glow. It felt as if the sun refused to send its rays inside¡ªwho could blame it? The bald man had just called it a damned ball, utterly disrespectful.


    If you knew the extent of the punishment you would get if it came down to you now.


    The room finally lit up, though it was a sight better left unseen. The bald man was revealed to be naked¡ªcompletely naked¡ªand shamelessly descended from the bed, walking to the bathroom without even closing the door, allowing everyone to hear the symphony of sounds emanating from him.


    Black sheets, black shelves, black walls¡ªwait, there was a difference in the curtain color: light black. A monumental difference, wouldn¡¯t you agree?


    "What happened with that pretty boy?"


    Damn your mother. Why does he mention my name while in the bathroom, relieving himself? Disgusting.


    "Since morning, he¡¯s been circling the heirs of the partners, threatening them. Some had their limbs severed or their bones broken."


    "Hahaha... He¡¯s trying in vain. They won¡¯t obey... I¡¯m the king..."


    With each word he spoke, he took a breath to squeeze his stomach and continue expelling. Damn it, why am I explaining this? Use your imagination.


    "That doesn¡¯t seem to be the case, my lord. Some have resumed their work, and others have even started paying him for the previous period."


    "What?"


    The bald man emerged from the bathroom, utterly indifferent, approaching the servant until a bit of sunlight illuminated his scars. A dragon tattoo attempted to conceal them but failed.


    ¡°Are you saying they''re no longer afraid of me?¡±


    "Of course not, sir... I mean, my lord..."


    The bald man grabbed the servant¡¯s head, pulling him closer. What''s wrong with this bald man? Does he want to kiss him or what?


    "Will what happened before happen again?"


    The servant began to tremble as memories of the madness he endured when the faceless man took control of the territory resurfaced.


    Summoning his courage, the servant spoke, his body shaking all over.


    "Impossible, my lord. That boy isn¡¯t faceless, and even if he were, you¡¯re the one who destroyed the first. You can destroy the second."


    The servant¡¯s words brought a smile to the bald man¡¯s face.


    "Of course... Hahahahaha."


    As he let out an exaggerated laugh, the servant hurried to help him get dressed.


    When I said dressed, I meant putting on trousers directly on his skin without any Underwear, throwing a coat made of some animal¡¯s hide¡ªor perhaps just a bathrobe¡ªover his shoulders. I don¡¯t know.


    It left his muscular abdomen and the dragon on his chest exposed, the dragon seemingly screaming as it headed downward, as though it wanted to devour its little friend.


    He walked out, the servant trailing behind him like a shadow.


    As he passed groups of people, they lowered their heads, murmuring:


    "My lord, my lord."


    He tried every way to project an air of nobility, but his bald head and demeanor betrayed him, still resembling a gangster.


    Suddenly, his expression changed upon hearing a sound from one of the rooms. He approached the door, pressing his ear against it.


    What happened to the noble aura he wanted to convey?


    The sound was... Let me describe it delicately. Let¡¯s say it was the laughter of a girl mixed with the creaking of a bed. I believe the meaning is clear.


    The bald man turned to the trembling servant, his gaze filled with rage and disbelief. The poor servant, drenched in sweat, didn¡¯t know what to do.


    Bang, bang.


    He knocked on the door without opening it, shouting.


    "Are you having fun, slut? Are you having fun, slut?"


    With every knock he made on the door, you saw him repeating the same words.


    The sound ceased after the first bang, but the mad bald man continued his tirade.


    "Keep going, but don''t let me hear that bitch''s voice again."


    The sound resumed, obeying his orders. The only difference was that the girl¡¯s voice could no longer be heard.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    He narrowed his eyes at the trembling servant.


    "Was he enjoying himself more than I did?"


    ¡°Impossible, my lord, how dare he?¡±


    The bald man nodded in agreement and resumed walking.


    The same sound emanated from every room, except that he found no sign of a woman inside. Nothing was needed to conclude that the place was a brothel.


    In a room illuminated by red light, two muscular men held two girls by their necks, knives in hand, awaiting their master¡¯s presence.


    As soon as he entered, they seemed eager, awaiting his command.


    And he did not make them wait long. The bald man raised his hand, lowering it ever so slowly, signaling rivers of blood to spill onto the floor. Notably, from start to finish, the two girls made no sound.


    The servant¡¯s phone rang. He answered.


    "My lord, it seems he¡¯s about to meet the owner of the Eastern Houses."


    The bald man approached a nearby window, gazing at the setting sun.


    "Looks like the dirty ball is about to disappear, just in time. Looks like it''s time to see how beautiful the pretty boy is."


    At the same time, I stepped out of the car, heading toward a massive building with a large sign reading ¡°House of the East,¡± glowing in red and blue.


    A man in a waiter¡¯s uniform, clearly one of the staff, greeted me at the entrance.


    ¡°Mr. Mopheus is expecting you, sir. Please, follow me.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t surprised. I had spent the entire day storming from one place to another, like a tempest that left nothing but destruction in its path. Naturally, he would anticipate my arrival. What caught my attention, however, was that he didn¡¯t seem to have prepared himself.


    I look around as I follow the waiter, trying to find any of the armed men, there is nothing.


    The cameras are off, either he''s giving up, he doesn''t care, or he''s up to something. In both cases I have to be careful.


    Mopheus¡ªit seems the author forgot a letter. This must be what they call creativity.


    (Author: Yes, it¡¯s creativity. Do you have a problem with that?)


    The waiter opened a wide door, revealing a square table. Seated at it was a dark-skinned man who looked like he was in his final days, holding a glass filled to the brim. He wore dark sunglasses. I wondered where the author got this design from.


    The moment I stepped inside, he looked at me, gesturing with his hand for me to sit. Well, at least there was no sign of disdain or belittlement.


    I sat across from him.


    ¡°What will you drink? We have everything.¡±


    His voice was that of a weary man.


    ¡°A cup of coffee will be enough for me.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t consumed anything all day except blood. Not literally, of course.


    The waiter left indifferently, leaving me, Dexter, and Hank alone with the old man, Mopheus. Was this self-confidence or apathy? For some reason, I felt curious, unlike the trash I had dealt with earlier today.


    ¡°I came to meet the heir¡­¡±


    ¡°I am the heir.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, but the deceased was in his mid-forties. You¡­¡±


    ¡°A man nearing death, yes. I¡¯m his grandfather.¡±


    It was as if the image of his grandson haunted him. You could see the sorrow in his eyes, a grief that left me silent, unable to find any words.


    ¡°Excuse me for not being able to attend your banquet.¡±


    ¡°Never mind, no one showed up anyway so I had to come myself.¡±


    His eyes settled on me as though trying to read a book.


    ¡°You¡¯re still young. No wonder you entered this world with a broad chest.¡±


    For some reason, his words brought a slight smile to my face.


    ¡°I¡¯m in my mid-thirties. That¡¯s not exactly young.¡±


    ¡°Young. Young.¡±


    He repeated the word as if affirming it, then took a sip. The waiter returned, placing a cup of coffee before me and exiting once again without care.


    ¡°Sir, let me taste it. It could be poisoned.¡±


    Ignoring Dexter¡¯s remark, I took a sip of the coffee.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Dexter. For some reason, I feel he¡¯s not the backstabbing type.¡±


    Because of my words, his eyes glinted with a strange spark. What was that?


    ¡°Thank you for your words. I wish I could say the same about you, but forgive me. I gave up flattering people a long time ago.¡±


    Both Hank and Dexter furrowed their brows but didn¡¯t make a single move. I had warned them¡ªespecially Dexter¡ªnot to act without my command.


    I didn¡¯t feel angry. He hadn¡¯t said anything untrue. The person whose body I now occupied wasn¡¯t known for keeping his word, which was precisely why I wanted to change that perception.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re my opposite, I assume you won¡¯t break the agreement between me and your grandson.¡±


    Mopheus let out a very deep sigh.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know whether I should hate you or hate myself.¡±


    I could guess why he hated me, but what about hating himself?


    ¡°I won¡¯t break it, but what are you going to do about Narco?¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. Before I could begin to think, Hank stepped forward to clarify.


    ¡°Narco is the man known as the King of the Underworld.¡±


    Damn, what¡¯s with omitting a letter from the name?


    (Author: Creativity. Inspiration. You wouldn¡¯t understand.)


    ¡°You seem reckless. How do you not even know your enemy¡¯s name?¡±


    I raised my hand, taking another sip of coffee, then placed the cup down, drawing a smile on my face.


    ¡°Well, I find it hard to remember the names of unimportant things.¡±


    Without warning, he began laughing.


    ¡°Hahaha.¡±


    I was genuinely surprised; he had been consumed by misery since I sat down.


    He could barely hold his glass; his hands trembled violently as he struggled to keep it steady.


    ¡°It seems that people with reckless personalities like yours are the ones who end up making something meaningful. Unlike me, I only destroyed my family.¡±


    The sorrow quickly returned to dominate him.


    ¡°If you don''t mind, what''s with you hating yourself? I can understand why you¡¯d hate me.¡±


    ¡°I apologize. I shouldn¡¯t have said that aloud. The truth is, what happened to my grandson was the result of my decisions.¡±


    He struggled to take another sip from his glass.


    ¡°Fate mocks me. I was the one who brought my son into this world, and in turn, he brought my grandson into it. Yet here I am, retired, having left this world alive, while all of them, along with their wives, are dead. Isn¡¯t fate mocking me?¡±


    He raised his hands, his fingers blocking the tears that threatened to fall.


    ¡°I understand your pain.¡±


    ¡°In any case, I will keep the shops under my control. Half of the proceeds will be yours. As for the rest, it will remain as agreed upon with my grandson. And if that madman comes, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯d rather die than work with him.¡±


    He took another sip, then slammed the glass onto the table with all his strength. Well, nothing shook, but it seemed he truly despised or was upset with him.


    ¡°Do you mean Narco? You seem to hate him. Do you have a special relationship with him?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly.¡±


    He took another deep breath, leaning back as if retreating into the past.


    ¡°We started around the same time. We were young, full of energy, in an era where your lineage and education were everything. We had nothing but our anger and hope to destroy this unjust system. We met in an alley, like brothers. We stole together. We fought together. I¡¯d even dare say we killed together.


    Over time, we saw no progress. We wanted to build a strong organization to protect those without protection and create a home for those without a home. But no matter how much we fought, we couldn¡¯t achieve anything.


    He was crazy, but not to the extent he¡¯s reached now. He has no limits anymore. He kidnaps the families of his opponents, sometimes even assaults them. He kills anyone who opposes him. He¡¯s involved in all sorts of forbidden trades.


    What frustrated me most was that he gained the power we needed to build a home and protect our brothers in the streets. But he no longer cared about such things, hiding behind the excuse, ¡®What¡¯s in it for me?¡¯


    I left the world. I had entered it with a goal, and if I couldn¡¯t achieve it, what was the point?¡±


    ¡°But why are you here? What do you even have in this world?¡±


    A deep hatred glimmered in his eyes. Though his hands were weak, his grip on the glass was firm, as if holding onto something much greater.


    ¡°It¡¯s because of him. My family could never escape the mud. Every time I got close to convincing them to leave, he would do something to stoke the flames of greed in their hearts. We didn¡¯t even need the money.¡±


    ¡°Why would he do that?¡±


    ¡°All because he thought I would betray him and leak his secrets to the outside.¡±


    ¡°Were you going to?¡±


    "No, I didn''t create anything important in this world out of thin air. It''s all because of my personality."


    His face tightened into a scowl, the wrinkles standing out like mountains.


    ¡°Come, take away this cursed glass that refuses to empty.¡±


    The servant entered quickly, taking the glass. I finished my coffee in one gulp, allowing him to take the cup as well.


    ¡°Look at the times we¡¯re in. I used to be able to drink ten of those in a single sitting. Now I can¡¯t even finish half of one.¡±


    His chest heaved up and down in anger, all because he had been forced to remember something he didn¡¯t want to recall.


    ¡°Listen, boy. Here¡¯s a piece of advice for you: get yourself out of this world while you¡¯re still young. This path destroys its traveler and will not leave you until you sacrifice everything that can be sacrificed¡±


    ¡°I appreciate the advice, but I have my plans. Everyone has their own way of doing things. Sacrifice isn¡¯t always necessary.¡±


    ¡°Tell that to the blood you¡¯ve tried to wash off your hands.¡±


    I glanced at my hands. I had tried to clean them time and time again, but no matter what, they became stained once more.


    I raised my hands, letting him examine them closely.


    ¡°Forgiveness isn¡¯t always an option. There are people who don¡¯t understand words, like you. Sometimes, you¡¯re forced to speak in a language they do understand.¡±


    ¡°Hahaha. Well, I didn¡¯t expect you to take advice from a failure like me.¡±


    ¡°No, not at all. I wouldn¡¯t dare. Your words have been of great help to me.¡±


    It was refreshing to see his wide smile, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere. He would manage the business well. Knowing he wasn¡¯t the kind of man to betray his word put me at ease, though I knew I would still have to keep an eye on him.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I expect from someone who played the Investigation office like a ring on his finger. I¡¯d love to see what you¡¯ll do next.¡±


    A strange feeling stirred within me toward him. Perhaps it was his regret for putting his children in a situation that ultimately led to their deaths¡ªa regret unlike my own parents, who hadn¡¯t cared about my suffering.


    I wondered¡­ did they feel any sorrow when I died?


    I rose from my seat.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to rest now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, leaving so soon? Don¡¯t tell me you expected me to show up and decided to run off with your tail between your legs.¡±


    My eyes meet his, I don''t need anyone to introduce him to me.


    ¡°Oh, I was just looking for something more thrilling. But since the clown has appeared, let¡¯s see if you have anything worth hearing.¡±

 chapter 30: crossed paths and intertwined destinies

    ¡°Oh, leaving so soon? Don¡¯t tell me you expected me to show up and decided to run off with your tail between your legs.¡±


    My eyes meet his, I don''t need anyone to introduce him to me.


    ¡°Oh, I was just looking for something more thrilling. But since the clown has appeared, let¡¯s see if you have anything worth hearing.¡±


    "Haha."


    Narco steps forward indifferently, taking the seat on the side, turning deliberately to Mopheus while avoiding looking at me.


    "How are you, old friend?"


    Mopheus responds with a snort.


    "Friend? Do you even know what that word means?"


    Suddenly, the fading sunlight hits Narco¡¯s bald face, causing him to scowl. He turns to the servant standing like a statue behind his master.


    "Why is that damned ball still here?"


    The servant can do nothing but offer him an apologetic look.


    "What is the poor boy supposed to do? Push the sun away with his hands?"


    Narco shifts his gaze back to Mopheus, as if an idea has just struck him.


    "Brilliant idea, my old friend. You, go extinguish it."


    Everyone, including me, was too stunned to speak, overwhelmed by the absurdity of his mind.


    "Wait, are you from the same generation?"


    I can no longer hold back my curiosity. Since the bald man entered, I¡¯ve been glancing back and forth between the two, unable to ignore the obvious age difference.


    I mean, while Mopheus seems to be in his late seventies at most, you could easily place Narco in his mid-forties.


    Finally, Narco notices my gaze and lets out a laugh.


    "Haha, I see you¡¯re surprised by his appearance. I told you to take better care of your health and looks."


    "It¡¯s good to embrace my age, unlike you, looking like some freak. People might think you¡¯re still young."


    "I am still young, can¡¯t you see my muscles?"


    Yes, the lunatic had walked in wearing simple black pants and a bathrobe draped over his shoulders, proudly showing off his abs.


    Mopheus turned to me, ignoring Narco¡¯s strange looks.


    "We¡¯re the same age, mid-sixties, but he¡¯s still a teenager, as you can see."


    "At least I¡¯m not a traitor, unlike you."


    Before Mopheus could respond, the waiter entered with a tray, setting another cup of coffee in front of me along with a giant glass like the one Mopheus had before.


    Narco grabs it in one gulp, finishes it completely, and raises his finger toward the window.


    "Close that stupid thing that¡¯s letting that horrible ball hit my face."


    Incredibly, the waiter complies.


    "So, you¡¯re the famous Emiric? Not bad, but your looks don¡¯t match the rumors."


    I smile, taking a sip and blowing smoke toward him as I calmly reply.


    He¡¯s trying to provoke me. He¡¯ll need more than this.


    "Well, I agree with you on that. Rumors don¡¯t do me justice. I mean, it¡¯s not their fault; how could they describe something this perfect and flawless?"


    Mopheus smirks at my words, which Narco notices. He points his finger toward me.


    "Is this who you want to partner with?"


    "I¡¯m not his partner; I work for him."


    Narco raises his eyebrows as if he¡¯s heard the strangest thing in his life.


    "Him?"


    He looks me over, then turns back to Mopheus, repeating the word.


    "Him?"


    As he repeats the word twice, I feel Dexter¡¯s anger rising behind me. He¡¯s fiercely loyal to the body''s owner. I start to wonder if I should rely on him and confess that I¡¯ve lost my memory.


    "This man you¡¯re talking about will rule the world one day."


    turn to Dexter, my eyes glowing. I truly want to jump on him and smash his Fucking mouth, and about trusting him with my memory loss? Forget it.


    "Haha."


    Of course, the bald man laughs.


    "Rule the world? Is this really who you want to work for?"


    "Why are you laughing? Didn¡¯t you say the same thing once?"


    Narco chokes on Mopheus¡¯ unexpected words, stopping his laughter and muttering words my ears barely catch.


    "I was young then. Things are different now."


    "Different? Oh, do you mean you now just want to be a king? Is that what you mean?"


    I was surprised by his lofty ambitions. You should know that if the person nicknamed "The Boss" dreams of conquering the kingdom, it¡¯s because of the serum. Without it, he wouldn¡¯t have dared to dream, let alone plan.


    "If you hadn¡¯t left me halfway, I would¡¯ve given you the position of the king¡¯s right hand. But it¡¯s not too late; the door is still open for you. Come on, step in."


    Narco¡¯s face takes on a childlike expression as he pokes Mopheus¡¯ shoulder repeatedly. Veins start to bulge on Mopheus¡¯ forehead.


    I can¡¯t help but pity the servant. If you could see his face, you¡¯d know the amount of embarrassment he¡¯s feeling, watching his master behave like this.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Get away from me. I¡¯m not interested."


    Mopheus shrugs, pushing his chair back with his leg to move away as far as possible.


    This simple action draws a look of frustration and confusion on Narco¡¯s face.


    "Why him and not me? He¡¯s the reason your grandson is dead."


    He really is like a child, pointing his finger at me. I¡¯ve been tempted to cut it off several times, but I¡¯ve barely held myself back.


    "You, him, or me¡ªwe¡¯re all just causes. It was his decision. Besides, I¡¯d rather cooperate with him than with someone who still sleeps with girls the age of his granddaughters. Aren¡¯t you ashamed? And as if that wasn¡¯t enough, you kill them because they displease you. Disgusting."


    "It¡¯s the law of the jungle. If you¡¯re strong, it won¡¯t happen to you. Besides, who told them to be boring?"


    Mopheus stands up suddenly, his face furious and his eyes glowing.


    "I can¡¯t take this anymore. I¡¯m an old man who might have a heart attack because of this bastard. I¡¯ll be over there; if you want something, just raise your voice and I¡¯ll hear you."


    Without waiting, he leaves, leaving Narco watching him with furrowed brows. I can tell he cares about the old man; even the old man isn¡¯t much different. They¡¯re true friends¡ªonly their beliefs have divided them.


    Narco adjusts himself, sitting across from me in the old man¡¯s spot.


    Suddenly, his body language and expression change as he narrows his eyes at me.


    "Who''s behind you?"


    Was he provoking the old man on purpose to speak with me alone? It seems he truly cares about him and doesn¡¯t want him to delve too deeply with me. I respect that.


    I turn, raising my finger toward them.


    "Hank and Dexter. Got a problem with your eyesight? They¡¯re my men."


    "Haha, witty. But unfortunately, clowns are the ones who die the quickest."


    As he laughs, I take another sip of coffee.


    "Strange. Isn¡¯t laughter supposed to strengthen the heart or something?"


    "What?"


    Narco seems baffled by my random comment.


    "I was saying, it¡¯s pathetic to use the same analogy someone used on you. I mean, you remind me of someone who took the two most famous names, removed a letter, and thought no one would notice."


    (author: This bastard wouldn''t let it go.)


    "I don''t understand your nonsense... Anyway, I¡¯m going to make you an offer you can¡¯t refuse. Serve under me, and you¡¯ll live. Otherwise, blame no one but yourself."


    "Really? That¡¯s your threat?"


    He narrows his eyes, placing his hands on the table, his voice filled with an effort to intimidate me.


    "You don¡¯t want me as your enemy."


    I can¡¯t help but smile at him, fueling the fire in his chest with a disdainful look.


    "Take a number and Stand in line. You¡¯re not the first, and you won¡¯t be the last."


    Not bad. He realizes what I¡¯m trying to do. He relaxes his hands and mirrors my smile. That¡¯s when I start to feel uneasy. A man who¡¯s terrified the underworld wouldn¡¯t be this easy to handle.


    "Do you think prancing around like a fool will make them submit to you? They wouldn¡¯t have betrayed you in the first place. You¡¯re an amateur, kid."


    He raises his voice, making sure Mopheus can hear him.


    "This kid threw money at their men. Hahaha!"


    He¡¯s trying to catch his attention again.


    No response comes, forcing him to refocus on what my reply will be. Is he testing me? Fine, we¡¯re both testing each other.


    "Do you think money isn¡¯t enough to buy loyalty?"


    Without hesitation, he responds.


    "Fear is what guarantees loyalty."


    I have to admit he has a point. Money doesn¡¯t buy loyalty, but its absence creates fertile ground for betrayal and treachery.


    "Hank, how much have we spent today?"


    He pulls out his phone and doesn¡¯t answer my question until he¡¯s verified the number. I like that.


    "About 40 million and some change."


    "Tell me, if I offered one of your men this modest sum of mine, do you think he¡¯d refuse?"


    "Impossible."


    I can see the muscles in his jaw tighten from how deeply this affects him. I can feel his struggle. Just thinking about it would make the strongest man lose sleep.


    "Impossible, you say? Not a single one close to you? What about those less close? You love sleeping with girls. What do you think about them? None of them would accept it and then slit your throat on a dark night?"


    That last one makes his whole body tremble. I can already tell he¡¯s going to cut down on his late-night parties. Good. He¡¯ll start waking up early. Maybe he¡¯ll fix his relationship with the sun. Seems like he has a history with it.


    "You can try."


    At least say it with a bit more confidence this time. They¡¯re all lions, but corner them, and they turn into kittens.


    "You see? He said it himself. Hank, remind me so I don¡¯t forget."


    "At your command, sir."


    "Good. You¡¯re not bad. I¡¯m starting to like you. What do you think about a partnership between you and me?"


    "Look at that. First, he wanted me under him. Now he wants to be my partner. Who knows? If I wait a little longer, he might want to be under me."


    "I don¡¯t let anyone ride me."


    His eyes glow with rage, and he¡¯s starting to lose control. I¡¯ll give him credit¡ªhe¡¯s held himself together well. But I know his type. He¡¯s a volcano, simmering, waiting for the chance to erupt. I think the only reason he¡¯s held back is that we¡¯re in Mopheus¡¯ domain. Otherwise, the fists would¡¯ve started flying long ago.


    "Truly, a wasted opportunity. I was going to advise you to let someone ride you in bed. You might find some enjoyment in it since the traditional ways clearly aren¡¯t working for you."


    His face is now covered in veins, and every muscle in it trembles uncontrollably.


    His eyes gleam as if he¡¯s finally found something to satisfy himself.


    "Look who¡¯s talking. The Impotent himself."


    "What did you say now?"


    He¡¯s managed to push my buttons, but I¡¯m not interested. I only sat here to understand my enemy. I knew I wasn¡¯t going to gain anything tangible. But his last words left question marks all over my face. What¡¯s he talking about now?


    He smiles as if he¡¯s finally won.


    "I sold you one of the most beautiful queens in the entire empire. And what did you do? Nothing. Haha, you¡¯ve got bigger problems than I do, kid."


    Suddenly, pieces start to fall into place in my mind.


    When Ivana suspected I was different, what did she do? Of course, she threw me on the bed, but she didn¡¯t finish seducing me when she noticed my little friend waking up.


    Was the owner of this body sexually impotent?


    "Be honest. That rumor about your marriage¡ªis it false? Either it¡¯s false, or it¡¯s not a real marriage."


    As I ride the train of my thoughts, Narco continues his chatter, oblivious to my distraction.


    "Anyway, that¡¯s not my business. Everyone has their struggles. Look, I¡¯ve come to like you. My final advice: accept the offer. Learn from those who came before you. You¡¯ll never reach what the Faceless One achieved. And look what happened to him."


    No matter how deep my thoughts, the moment he mentions the Faceless One, I snap out of it, interested in what I¡¯m about to hear.


    "The Faceless One. Are you saying you killed him?"


    An odd look crosses his face, one he tries to mask with a smile. I don¡¯t need to focus much to know it¡¯s fake.


    "Of course. Look around¡ªdo you see him or hear anything about him?"


    A doubt creeps into my heart, and it shows on my face.


    "Yes, I hear about him everywhere¡ªunlike you."


    "You hear about him because I made him an example, a lesson. He¡¯s become nothing but a myth. True power is being present, and no one dares to say your name."


    "In fact, you¡¯ve been mentioned."


    "As a title. You¡¯ll never hear my real name."


    "Well, I just heard your name now."


    He raises his voice again. If you want to speak to him, go to him bitch.


    "That¡¯s because of that old man who exploits my weakness toward him."


    Your shouting reminds me of a donkey braying in the middle of the night.


    "fuck you and your mother."


    "My mother died in her prime, unlike your mother, whom you never even met."


    They truly are friends. I can tell if a stranger had said such a line, there would be blood in the air.


    Suddenly, without warning, our eyes widen, and our eyebrows shoot up. Both of us stand at the same time.


    A moment passes. A moment of realization that something is happening, though neither of us can pinpoint what. It¡¯s instinct¡ªthe instinct of years of street fighting etched into his bones and the bones of this body¡¯s owner.


    Suddenly, our ears catch the faint sound of an explosion starting, followed by the cocking of a trigger.


    "Everyone down!"


    "Everyone down!"


    The words barely leave our mouths before an explosion echoes, followed by the rattling burst of machine-gun fire.


    "Boom, boom, boom!"

 chapter 31: Rising from the ashes.

    "Everyone, get down!"


    "Everyone, get down!¡±


    As soon as the words leave our mouths, a deafening explosion shakes the entire building. The roar of a machine gun follows.


    "Boom! Boom! Boom!"


    The window shatters violently, sending shards of glass flying like a swarm of gleaming daggers. The air fills with the sharp scent of gunpowder and a cloud of shattered glass particles.


    I raise my hands at lightning speed to shield my face, feeling the sting of tiny shards against my skin. The force of the blast pushes me backward, stumbling three steps as I struggle to regain my balance.


    Narco does the same, his face twisted in a mix of shock and rage. I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, as if my body senses the looming danger before my mind fully grasps it.


    In a desperate, swift move, I flip the heavy table, hoping it might offer us some protection. The sound of bullets tearing through it tells me our shield is far from reliable.


    "Doom! Doom! Doom!"


    Bullets rain down relentlessly, slicing through the air with a deadly whistle. Smoke rises around us, filling our noses with the choking stench of burnt gunpowder that makes breathing nearly impossible.


    The ground trembles beneath us with every explosion, and screams of terror echo in the air. My heart pounds violently in my chest, cold sweat dripping down my back.


    As if all this chaos isn¡¯t enough, Narco suddenly screams beside me, his voice brimming with rage and defiance:


    "Who dares fire on the king?!"


    I sigh in frustration. Are the bullets hitting the table behind my back not enough? And now I have to deal with the screams of this lunatic next to me?


    Among the relentless gunfire, angry shouts from the attackers reach our ears.


    "Shut up, you fake king!"


    "There¡¯s no king but Faceless!"


    "Why waste time? Let¡¯s kill these spies once and for all!"


    As their words end, the hail of bullets intensifies. Sparks fly through the air with every shot, and the sounds grow louder, becoming like war drums.


    I glance at Narco, trying to make sense of the situation.


    "Didn¡¯t you say you killed Faceless? Then who are these men?"


    He looks at me with wide eyes, a strange smile spreading across his face.


    "I cut off the head, but the tail still wriggles."


    I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the idiot beside me. But how can I, when he won¡¯t stop talking?


    "Heartless scum with no morals, is this how you honor your leader¡¯s memory? Show some dignity and stop shooting! Face me like men, and let our fists decide the winner!"


    I narrow my eyes suspiciously.


    "Did Faceless ever follow rules?"


    "No."


    "Are you the kind who obeys rules?"


    "No."


    His quick replies make my blood boil. Anger rises in my chest, mixing with frustration and fear.


    "Then why are you talking?"


    I cautiously shift my position, trying to catch a glimpse of the source of the gunfire. But the moment I lift my head slightly, I duck down again with lightning speed.


    "Boom!"


    The bullet I just avoided slams into the wall behind me, leaving a hole that serves as a stark reminder of how fragile our position is.


    It¡¯s a good thing the table is made of Ebonyon steel, or we¡¯d have been dead by now. Damn this situation.


    Narco moves closer to me, his eyes gleaming with a strange look as he whispers in my ear.


    "Did you see anything?"


    I¡¯m on the verge of losing it. If the cramped space didn¡¯t restrain me, I¡¯d have ripped his tongue out by now.


    I turn to Hank, trying to gather my thoughts.


    "Hank, didn¡¯t we bring any weapons with us? Isn¡¯t that right?"


    He replies with cold composure, despite the chaos around us.


    "In response to you, sir, we didn¡¯t expect anything as bold as this."


    "What about the car?"


    Dexter adjusts his stance and answers.


    "Sir, I gave the key to one of the house guards. It should be out back."


    "Then there¡¯s an exit at the back".


    Suddenly, Narco jumps into my discussion with my men.


    "Do you want to run away? Damn, and I was starting to admire you. You¡¯ve disappointed me."


    I glare at him with disdain, holding back the urge to choke him.


    "If you want to die, be my guest."


    "Die? Hah! They¡¯ll run out of bullets."


    "And how will you stay alive until then?"


    His eyes gleam with a crazed look, and with pride, he slaps the table we¡¯re hiding behind.


    "It¡¯ll hold! It¡¯s made of Ebonyon steel. Don¡¯t worry."


    As if the universe wants to prove him wrong, a bullet pierces the table at that exact moment, grazing Narco¡¯s nose. His face contorts in a mix of shock, pain, and fear.


    I look at him with barely concealed glee. After all, even Ebonyon steel has its limits, especially when crafted into a thin table.


    Keeping my smug expression, I open my mouth.


    "What were you saying?"


    He swallows hard, as if swallowing his pride along with it.


    "How do we move? Bullets are raining down on us like a storm."


    I glance around, trying to assess the situation. There¡¯s no safe spot to retreat to except this fragile table. The far wall seems like an oasis in a desert, but reaching it would mean crossing a bullet-filled death zone.


    Suddenly, an idea strikes me. I turn to Narco.


    "Did you hide your men nearby? When will they arrive?"


    I don¡¯t miss the look of confusion that crosses his face.


    "I didn¡¯t bring anyone with me except this idiot."


    He gestures toward the servant.


    "I¡¯m sure I heard the engines of three cars when you arrived."


    Finally, realization dawns on him.


    "They were empty. And before you ask, I get bored of cars quickly, so I bring three spares to switch between."


    I stare at him with deep frustration. As the gunfire continues pounding in my ears, I entertain the thought of throwing him over the table. At least I¡¯d be rid of him and his stupidity.


    But suddenly, another idea pops into my mind. What if I kill him here? Wouldn¡¯t the attackers stop? After all, they came for him.


    In the midst of these conflicting thoughts, the servant whose name I still don¡¯t know interrupts.


    "My lord."


    I look at him, noticing the fear in his eyes. He seems to have something important to say. "Say what you have to say."


    "I just wanted to mention that I have a gun. And last month, my lord, I placed a small rifle in the bathroom coat."


    I cast a glance at Narco, who starts patting himself eagerly. Suddenly, he feels something and pulls it out, revealing a small rifle.


    Oh, I feel like killing him.


    Are he and Dexter drinking from the same garbage dump, or did the author design them to give me a heart attack?This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Narco turned to the servant as if he¡¯s about to devour it.


    "Why didn¡¯t you say anything sooner?"


    "You told me¡­ not to speak no matter¡­"


    "Just shut up."


    Ignoring their exchange, I grab the pistol from the servant¡¯s hand, feeling its weight. It¡¯s heavy, heavier than I expected. My heart races as I realize what I¡¯m about to do.


    "Cover me. I¡¯m moving to that wall. Once I¡¯m there, I¡¯ll cover you. The same applies to everyone else."


    I give the instructions to the group.


    Narco eyes me intently, and just as I¡¯m about to start moving, he opens his fucking mouth.


    "I don¡¯t know how to cover. All I know is how to strip."


    I take a deep breath, trying to control my nerves. I can now understand the suffering of that Scum Null when I used to crack jokes at the worst times. It seems karma has finally come around.


    Before I can respond, the ground shakes violently. A deafening explosion echoes through the space, followed by a terrifying cracking sound. It seems one of the building''s main supports has been hit by the explosions.


    Suddenly, the ceiling begins to collapse. Debris rains down around us like a waterfall of destruction, and dust fills the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe.


    The gunfire doesn¡¯t stop. The only difference now is that the attackers can no longer aim accurately. But it doesn¡¯t make much of a difference¡ªarmed with machine guns, they don¡¯t need precision to hit us.


    I look at Narco, trying to ignore the chaos surrounding us.


    "Am I your babysitter or something? The moment I move, you stand and start shooting like a lunatic. Which, I¡¯m sure, isn¡¯t hard for you. Got it?"


    I finish my directions to him, feeling my pulse quicken. This is the moment.


    In a swift motion, I crouch slightly, ready to dash. I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins, my senses heightened to the limit.


    I lunge forward, sliding on my knees. Bullets whistle past my ears, the heat of their trajectory grazing my face.


    Behind me, I hear Narco standing up and firing randomly. His voice rises above the clamor of the fight:


    "So, you¡¯ve got big balls now? Great! I¡¯ve been looking to remove a few these days!"


    As if luck favors us for a moment, the attackers'' ammunition starts to run out. I hear their frustrated cries as they duck behind their vehicles, frantically reloading their weapons.


    I seize this precious moment. With one final leap, I reach the wall, pressing my back against it, my breaths coming in rapid gasps. A light pain courses through my legs from sliding across the ground, but I ignore it.


    "Move now!"


    I yell at the top of my lungs.


    I see Hank and Dexter charging forward, followed by the servant. My heart pounds wildly with every step they take.


    But time isn¡¯t entirely on our side. Just as they reach the wall, the attackers finish reloading and resume their relentless firing. Narco is forced to retreat, taking cover behind the table again.


    I look around, trying to assess the situation. The problem now is that I can¡¯t see the attackers clearly, and on top of that, I only have a pistol. There¡¯s not much I can do with it.


    A devious thought crosses my mind. I¡¯m in a relatively safe spot now. I could leave with my men and abandon Narco here. It¡¯s not a bad idea¡ªwe¡¯re enemies, after all.


    But I quickly realize the consequences of such a decision. If rumors spread about what happened¡ªthat I left him and ran¡ªthen the plans I have in mind will become nearly impossible to execute. Even if I succeed, the difficulty would be doubled. No, the losses would outweigh the gains.


    As these conflicting thoughts churn in my head, I take a quick glance around. I spot Mopheus unconscious in a corner of the room, with the waiter beside him, his face pale with fear.


    "Where can I get a better view of the attackers?"


    With trembling hands, he points to a distant hallway. I nod, making up my mind.


    "Hank, Dexter, stay here."


    "Sir, we¡¯ll come with you."


    "Does either of you know how to aim?"


    I ask, already knowing the answer.


    Their silence confirms my suspicion.


    "That¡¯s what I thought. Stay here and make sure nothing happens to the old man."


    Leaving them behind, I dart toward the hallway.


    my mind works quickly to analyze.


    They attacked in the evening, just as the city¡¯s police patrols are about to begin their rounds. They have no intention of leaving. They don¡¯t plan to survive. They¡¯ve brought heavy weaponry. There¡¯s no way they¡¯ll surrender. In other words, they¡¯re a suicide squad.


    Whether or not they succeed in killing Narco, they¡¯ll kill themselves either way.


    Who exactly is this Faceless, and how does he have such control over his men? Could someone like him really have fallen at the hands of a clown like Narco? I find it hard to believe.


    At the end of the hallway, I find a staircase. I quickly climb to the second floor and head toward the nearest window. It¡¯s in no better shape than the others, already shattered, but it allows me a clear view of the scene outside.


    Crouching low, I move cautiously. approach the edge of the window, trying to peek out onto the street in front of the house without exposing myself.


    On the sidewalk, I see four cars lined up in a row. Behind them, masked men take cover. Their masks are black, each adorned with an "X" on the forehead. There are more of them than I expected.


    They continue firing, their eyes glowing red and wide grins stretching from ear to ear. They look insane, reveling in the chaos they¡¯re creating.


    "What¡¯s wrong with your guts? Hiding like girls."


    "He doesn¡¯t know his place. How dare he spread rumors that he killed the leader¡ªin his dreams!"


    "I did kill him, you scum. If you don¡¯t believe me, just wait until I send you to him!"


    "Really? When will you come out? Come on and show yourself. So why are you hiding?"


    I realize I need to act quickly before Narco charges at them recklessly. I quickly count the attackers: one, two, three, four... ten. Ten heavily armed men.


    Three of them stand exposed, while the other seven are sheltered behind the cars. I wonder why they don¡¯t alternate¡ªwhy don¡¯t the ones in the back fire while the ones in the front reload, and then switch?


    Well, if they did, I wouldn¡¯t have had a chance to survive. I¡¯m not sure if this is luck on my part or some piece of a larger plan I don¡¯t yet understand.


    What do I do now? If I start shooting, they¡¯ll notice me immediately. One of them, at least, would target me, and with this small pistol, I wouldn¡¯t stand a chance.


    deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves. A particular idea crystallizes in my mind. There¡¯s no other way.


    But just as I make my decision and prepare to stand, my body freezes. A troubling thought suddenly strikes me:


    I¡¯ve never killed anyone before.


    Since waking up, I may have broken bones and severed limbs, but killing... I haven¡¯t done it yet. The original owner of this body might have, but I... I haven¡¯t.


    I feel cold sweat trickling down my back. Damn it, this is not the time for hesitation or fear.


    I try to convince myself: Am I weak? Am I a coward? No, I have to do this. It¡¯s better to do it while I¡¯m alone. No one will be around to witness my pathetic reaction.


    I¡¯m no longer that little boy. I¡¯m no longer the person who depends on anyone¡¯s pity. I have everything I need now.


    I can hear Narco¡¯s voice from below, still provoking the attackers.


    "You filthy scum, who do you think you are? All this just because I let you play with me for a bit?"


    His nonsense only adds to my tension.


    I have to do this. I have to do this.


    I gather all my courage and resolve. Standing tall, I try to control the trembling in my hands. raising the pistol, aiming at the fuel tank of one of the cars.


    Time seems to stop. I can see every detail with startling clarity¡ªthe sparks flying from the barrels of their guns, the slow motion of their bodies, even the tiny particles of dust suspended in the air.


    With a shaking finger, I pull the trigger.


    "Bang!"


    The sound is louder than I expected. My bullet flies, and as if I were a marksman, it hits the target with stunning precision.


    A deafening explosion shakes the entire area. Flames leap from the targeted car, engulfing everything around it. The bodies of the attackers closest to the explosion are flung into the air, burning like meteors.


    "Boom!"


    "Boom!"


    The first explosion triggers a chain reaction. The other cars catch fire one after the other, turning the street into a blazing inferno.


    I watch the scene in shock, unable to believe what I¡¯ve just done. The entire street transforms into a sea of flames.


    The fire spreads rapidly, consuming everything in its path with terrifying speed. Thick black smoke rises into the sky.


    In the midst of this hell, I find myself waiting. Waiting for what exactly? Maybe a knot in my stomach, an urge to vomit, or even tears to stream down my cheeks in sorrow for my lost innocence.


    But none of that happens.


    Instead, I find myself standing there like a statue, staring at the flames devouring everything before me. Without even realizing it, a smile begins to form on my face.


    Yes, I smiled. I don¡¯t know if it was the sight of the fire that pleased me, the destruction, or perhaps the muffled cries. I can¡¯t say for sure.


    The only thing I know for certain is that I felt a kind of release. It was as if a heavy chain had fallen from my shoulders, and I was finally free.


    I lower the pistol slowly, my eyes still fixed on the scene in front of me. The heat brushes against my face, and the smoke fills my lungs, but I feel no discomfort.


    Suddenly, I notice movement in one of the nearby buildings. My eyes focus on a window on the third floor.


    There, amidst the smoke and flames, I see a man. He¡¯s wearing a black mask with a prominent "X" on his forehead. His face¡ªor the part visible beneath the mask¡ªbears the same smile I feel on my own.


    His voice reaches my ears, rough like the creak of a rusty door:


    "Do they really think they¡¯re a match for me?"


    For a moment, our gazes lock. His eyes gleam with something indescribable¡ªperhaps admiration, perhaps defiance, or maybe a mix of both.


    Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanishes. It¡¯s as if he was never there at all.


    I return to reality.


    I take one last look at the burning street. The image etches itself into my mind¡ªthe dancing flames, the billowing smoke, the utter destruction.


    And deep in my heart, I know something has changed. Something irreversible.


    I was reborn.

 chapter 32: What is this?

    Police and firefighter sirens echoed through the smoke-filled air, bouncing off crumbling walls.


    Firefighters sprayed jets of water onto blazing cars, steam hissing as it rose, thickening the already grim haze.


    Charred bodies, zipped in black bags, were lined up along the roadside, silent witnesses to the devastation. The stench of fire and death choked the air.


    Burned-out cars and shattered glass littered the ground, their skeletal frames and jagged fragments glinting in the dim firelight. A once-thriving street, shaded by green trees, was now an ashen wasteland. Charred trunks stood like blackened skeletons, scattered branches reduced to ash.


    A crowd gathered behind yellow police tape, phones raised to capture the tragedy. Without the barrier, they might have surged forward for a better view.


    In the eastern house, now reduced to ruins, chunks of decaying walls crumbled to the ground. The partially collapsed roof revealed gaps that exposed the starry sky¡ªthough it was now difficult to see the stars due to the rising smoke. The burned furniture mixed with rubble, painting a sorrowful picture of what had once been a lively home.


    Amid this catastrophic scene stood a man in a white suit, his expression devoid of emotion. He surveyed the area carefully, as if meticulously calculating the losses with a cold precision. Once he finished, he glanced in my direction, ignoring both Narco, Hank, and Dexter, who stood beside me.


    Who else could it be but the Scum, Null.


    "It hasn¡¯t even been hours, and here we are again for another conversation, Mr. Emiric," .


    As if I would be afraid of him. I held his gaze, calmly pulling out the last cigar in my pocket and lighting it.


    "Is the office so short-staffed that they always send you to me? Don¡¯t tell me there¡¯s a special file about me, and you¡¯re in charge of it."


    Predictably, he didn¡¯t answer, instead shifting his attention to Mopheus, who was seated on one of the few surviving chairs. Beside him, a nurse was tending to a wound on his head.


    "Are you the owner of this place?".


    The old man, Mopheus, wasted no time in responding.


    "Is it customary for the Deputy Chief to ask questions he already knows the answers to?"


    "Heh," came an exaggerated laugh from Narco, drawing Null¡¯s sharp gaze toward him.


    "You laugh while all these lives have been lost because of you."


    Narco stopped laughing, his gaze shifting as if searching for something. Slowly, he took deliberate steps toward Null.


    "Are you talking to me, Kingdom dog?"


    The action made the office agents and police officers standing behind Null place their hands on the pistols holstered at their waists, ready for trouble.


    Before the clash could escalate, a voice intervened.


    "Stop this. And you¡ªget started with your investigation. We still have to fix this place."


    As for me, I remained in my spot, enjoying my cigar and watching the scene unfold.


    It seemed this wasn¡¯t their first meeting.


    "Who attacked you, and why?".


    Narco scoffed at the empty question, sticking his pinky finger in his ear.


    "Why do you always want us to answer questions that are literally your job to figure out, huh?"


    "I don¡¯t know. Maybe because you always seem to know the answers?"


    Seconds passed as they stared at each other. It didn¡¯t take much effort to see they despised one another.


    I¡¯d sat with them before, and neither had shown this level of animosity toward me. To be fair, my dislike for Null might match Narco¡¯s hatred of him. A shared sentiment, perhaps.


    One of the officers broke the tense silence, approaching Null.


    "Sir, we found this."


    Null glanced at the half-burned piece of fabric, focusing on the insignia embroidered on it.


    "The Faceless Mark,".


    Turning back to Narco, Null gave him a rare smile¡ªa smirk so full of mockery that even I was surprised. Just how much did he hate him?


    "Didn¡¯t you run around boasting that you¡¯d eliminated him?"


    Narco scowled.


    "I cut off his head, but apparently, the tail is still wagging."


    Unlike before, when he had confidently made similar claims, this time the irritation in his voice was unmistakable.


    "Of course, of course," Null said, brushing off the comment and turning his attention to the handgun and small submachine gun laid out nearby.


    "Naturally, these weapons are unlicensed,".


    The nurse finished tending to Mopheus¡¯ wound, and the old man replied in a tired voice.


    "I think the fact that they have access to heavy weapons is a bit more concerning than these small toys, wouldn¡¯t you agree, Deputy Chief?"


    So far, Mopheus¡¯ replies were sharp and to the point. I couldn¡¯t understand how a man like him claimed that his character hadn¡¯t gotten him anywhere.


    Maybe he was referring to his readiness to sacrifice lives without hesitation. It was unfortunate because, with his mind, he could have achieved something great.


    "What exactly is your connection to Mr. Emiric?"


    The Scum was deliberately trying not to confront me directly, knowing full well he wouldn¡¯t get anything valuable out of me.


    "My grandson was in financial trouble, and thanks to Mr. Emiric¡¯s generosity, I was able to help him. I was in the middle of discussing repayment terms,".


    "Of course, of course. What about the drugs? Did he help you with addition and subtraction?"


    Holding a file in his hand, Null flipped through the pages, clearly uninterested in Mopheus¡¯ answers. The gesture made the veins on Narco¡¯s forehead bulge with anger. He couldn¡¯t hold back any longer and stepped close to Null, until their faces were nearly touching.


    Why does he always invade people¡¯s personal space like that? I was starting to question his preferences.


    The officers moved to intervene, but Null raised a hand to stop them.


    "We were planning how to overthrow the Kingdom," Narco sneered. "We even held a session specifically about you. I personally suggested we enslave you and sell you to old women as a toy."


    For once, Null seemed to take the bait, throwing the file aside and raising his voice for all to hear.


    "Do you admit that you are planning a coup¡±


    The madman, Narco, was about to speak when Mopheus intervened once more.


    "Stop throwing accusations around. And you, fool, keep your mouth shut."


    Unfortunately, my cigar burned out along with my patience. If I didn¡¯t end this now, the lunatic would drag me into his mess, and the Scum wouldn¡¯t miss an opportunity to exploit it.


    "Let¡¯s stop here. I don¡¯t have time to play with either of you. You¡ªstart your investigation and stop trying to provoke me. Haven¡¯t you learned your lesson yet?"


    turned his attention to me.


    "Strange to hear those words from you, Mr. Emiric. I keep finding you tied to everything, one way or another¡ªyour partners¡¯ deaths, the bomb planted in my car, and now a broad daylight attack with heavy weapons. Ever since your arrival, the Kingdom has been drowning in chaos."This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    I smirked arrogantly, allowing a faint smile to creep onto my face.


    "Chaos, chaos, chaos," I repeated mockingly.


    Taking a deep breath, I began pacing the room. Casting a theatrical glance around, I turned back to him and continued.


    "I don¡¯t like it. I avoid it. But chaos loves me."


    I stretched out my arms, lifting my shoulders in mock surrender.


    "In fact, it adores me. I can¡¯t avoid it."


    The sound of applause broke out beside me. Who else could it be but Dexter, clapping with enthusiasm, his eyes shining as if he had just witnessed a grand theatrical performance.


    The Scum Null approached me with the same cold expression on his face. Dexter stopped clapping, clearly intending to interrupt him, but I raised my hand to stop him, allowing the scene to play out once more.


    "Here we have the lunatic Narco, who calls himself the King, on one side. And on the other, we have the Faceless One, whose power you¡¯ve barely tasted, and whom we know nothing about. Not to mention my pursuit of you and the Four Families. Do you really think you¡¯ll survive all of this?"


    Damn it. I had nothing to say. I had the serum, sure, but I didn¡¯t fully understand it yet. I refused to give in to him, though. I was about to come up with something, but fortunately for him, one of the officers approached us, cutting in.


    "Sir, we¡¯ve collected all the evidence and the bodies. All that¡¯s left are their testimonies. Should we take them in?"


    Without so much as a flicker of emotion crossing his face, Null replied,


    "There¡¯s no need. Just write in their statements: ¡®I don¡¯t know. We didn¡¯t see anything. The place was in chaos; we couldn¡¯t notice anything.¡¯"


    He finished his sentence and, with a level of arrogance I couldn¡¯t understand, turned and walked out of the house.


    Narco yelled after him, clearly trying to make sure the Scum could hear him.


    "Look at this show-off! Just wait for the day I come and crush that empty skull of yours."


    I walked past him on my way to the exit.


    "You¡¯ll have to wait your turn."


    The day had been long, and my work was finally done. Before leaving, I gave one last look to Mopheus.


    "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Mopheus,".


    "The feeling is mutual, Mr. Emiric,".


    And with that, I stepped out of the house. Dexter rushed ahead to get the car, leaving me waiting. Suddenly, Narco appeared at my side, staring at me with a strange expression.


    I tried to ignore him, my gaze fixed on the horizon. But it seemed like his tactic wasn¡¯t working, so he decided to finally open that sewer of a mouth.


    "All my cars exploded," .


    I gave him no response, waiting for him to feel even the slightest hint of embarrassment. He didn¡¯t. Unfazed, he continued.


    "My house isn¡¯t far from here."


    I couldn¡¯t take it anymore. I turned to him.


    "Don¡¯t you feel  ashamed asking a stranger to give you a ride?"


    "We¡¯ve known each other for about an hour. We¡¯re no longer strangers,".


    He truly had no sense of shame or decency.


    "There¡¯s only room for one more," I said, trying to put an end to this.


    "Heh, don¡¯t worry. I was only talking about myself."


    His words seemed to break the heart of the servant whose name I still didn¡¯t know. As if that wasn¡¯t enough, Narco turned to the poor man and, with a shameless grin, added,


    "You can run."


    My car arrived. We got in and quickly left the burned-out street behind us. The servant ran after us with all the energy he could muster.


    The entire ride, the lunatic kept staring at me. His gaze made me uneasy. I couldn¡¯t take it anymore.


    "What do you want?" I finally snapped.


    "You haven¡¯t answered my offer."


    "What offer?"


    "The partnership offer,".


    "Are you serious?"


    "Of course."


    I turned my gaze back to the window.


    "Why should I trust you when you lied to me in our very first meeting?"


    Uncertainty and confusion spread across his face.


    "When did I lie to you?"


    "You said you killed the Faceless One,".


    He raised an eyebrow and, in a voice that grated on my nerves, said,


    "I did kill him. Why does no one believe me?"


    I studied his expression, trying to read him. I saw nothing. Was he telling the truth?


    "How did you kill him?" .


    He raised his arm, forming a mock pistol with his fingers.


    "I shot him with a gun. Bam!"


    "And his body? Where is it now?"


    "Who knows? Maybe a shark ate it or something," .


    Suddenly, his face was clouded with an unfamiliar expression¡ªsadness. I couldn¡¯t make sense of it. Was he actually mourning?


    I pushed past his expression, focusing instead on the fact that the body had been dumped into the unknown.


    "That means he could¡¯ve survived, right?" .


    "Impossible. I shot him right in the heart."


    That didn¡¯t erase the doubt gnawing at me.


    "Ugh, damn it!".


    "What now?" .


    "I¡¯m sick of this car,".


    "You¡¯re welcome to get out and continue on foot. Your legs are still intact,".


    For once, embarrassment crept across his face, and finally, silence filled the car.


    The car stopped at the location he had specified. I glanced out the window and saw where we were¡ªa brothel. Of course. What else was I expecting from him?


    He got out and stood by the window, leaning close.


    "You didn¡¯t answer me. Are we partners or enemies?"


    I took a deep breath. What was with his sudden obsession with me? Was he plotting something? If I thought about it, I could probably benefit a little from working with him, but I didn¡¯t know his nature beyond his madness, which could easily drag me into trouble.


    "For now, my focus is entirely on the Deputy Chief and the office. Once I¡¯m done with him, maybe we¡¯ll talk about your proposal."


    I gave the first excuse that came to mind.


    "Forget it, then. That Scum is mine. I won¡¯t let anyone else toy with him. I¡¯ve sworn that I¡¯d take him down, even if it means starting a war with you."


    What had Null done to him to make him hate him as much as I did? I was genuinely curious now.


    I smiled as I said,


    "Good. I was looking forward to carrying out our agreement anyway."


    My words clearly left him confused. It seemed I needed to remind him.


    "Did you forget? I¡¯m going to try bribing one of your men. Anyway, let¡¯s not meet again anytime soon. Let me start missing you, though I¡¯m sure that¡¯s impossible."


    I rolled up the car window, and it drove off, leaving him standing there like the lamppost beside him.


    Finally, the servant¡ªwhose name I still didn¡¯t know¡ªcaught up to him, panting heavily and leaning on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.


    "Now that you¡¯ve finally arrived, you lazy fool, move quickly. I want a full report on all my men. Bring me anyone who might be capable of betraying me."


    I closed my eyes, smiling to myself. At last, this day was coming to an end.


    Ah, the clich¨¦ protagonist¡¯s habit of opening his mouth only to be cut off by the author¡ªit seemed that fate was no different for me.


    Suddenly, a noise, sharp and intrusive, like a ringing phone, filled the air. A frown creased my forehead.


    I waited for Hank to answer it, but no matter how long I waited, the ringing didn¡¯t stop. Finally, I opened my eyes.


    "Why aren¡¯t you answering the phone, Hank?" .


    He turned to me, visibly confused.


    "Forgive me, sir, but what phone?"


    His confusion mirrored my own. I looked around. Maybe that lunatic forgot his phone somewhere, but there was nothing. And yet, I could still hear the ringing.


    What was happening? I placed my hands over my ears, but the sound persisted. In fact, it grew louder. A wild thought formed in my mind.


    As soon as I considered answering the call, the ringing stopped abruptly. A few seconds passed, and then a voice spoke.


    "Sir,".


    I looked over at Dexter and Hank, noticing that they seemed completely unaware of what was happening.


    Thinking the words in my mind, I responded:


    "Speak."


    As if the first surprise wasn¡¯t enough, the voice replied.


    "Sir, I¡¯ve sent you the address of Mr. Dahi. Has it arrived?"


    Hearing the voice for a moment longer, I recognized it¡ªit was the doctor I¡¯d met at the animal shelter. I had told him to send me the address of his master.


    I wanted to ask him more but held back as a particular thought crossed my mind.


    "Good¡­ Well done,".


    "Thank you, sir."


    The call ended, and everything returned to normal.


    As soon as the car arrived, I didn¡¯t wait for Dexter. I opened the door and headed to my room as fast as I could, aware of everyone¡¯s eyes on me.


    "I don¡¯t want anyone to disturb me," I said, shutting the door behind me.


    Standing in the center of the room, I suddenly recalled the cold draft I had felt before, no matter how tightly I had shut the windows.


    Looking around carefully, I remembered the strange sense of dissonance I had felt when I first entered the room.


    Seconds later, my eyes stopped on the bookshelf. Moving closer, I began removing all the books, stacking them neatly on the floor.


    Running my hands along the surface of what I thought was wood, I noticed something strange. It looked like wood, but its texture reminded me of the palace doors after they had been coated in nano-technology¡ªfollowing the same design principles Hank had taught me.


    the sound of something shifting echoed through the room, accompanied by a red glow.


    In an instant, the shelves vanished, revealing a large black box, roughly the size of a person.


    I stepped into it, watching as a beam of light scanned me, seemingly confirming my identity. A faint hiss followed, and the door behind me shut tightly.


    The sound of machinery moving filled the space, and I felt as though I were in an elevator.


    The destination was obvious¡ªbeneath the mansion, deeper than even the prison.


    Finally, the descent came to a halt, and the door opened before me.


    I took one step, then another, then a third. Suddenly, the darkness gave way to a blinding light.


    "HOLY SHIT. WHAT IS THIS? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

 chapter 33: Secret cave

    I stand stunned by what I see.


    A vast, circular room stretches out before me, connected to other rooms, filled with advanced technological devices.


    Giant screens cover the walls, displaying data and information I cannot possibly process all at once.


    In the center of the room, there¡¯s a slightly elevated circular platform with a strange-looking device on it¡ªsomething I¡¯ve never seen before.


    I move forward slowly, my eyes darting from one screen to another, trying to make sense of what I¡¯m looking at.


    I stop in front of the wide, round table, and with my finger, I touch its surface. Suddenly, a map of the mansion appears.


    A detailed, architectural map showing all the rooms. I press again, and it shifts to display a map of the prison.


    I can see the interconnected passageways leading to the cells.


    I press once more, and another map appears¡ªif I¡¯m not mistaken, it¡¯s the one for the place I¡¯m standing in now.


    The main room is circular, with corridors branching off to smaller circular rooms.


    It¡¯s like a spider¡¯s web, connecting one room to another.


    What is all of this? Is this some kind of bat cave or what? I haven¡¯t even fully explored the mansion yet, let alone the prison, and now I¡¯ve found this place.


    This time, instead of just pressing with one finger, I touch the map¡¯s surface and double-tap. The prison map appears again. I repeat the motion, and the mansion map returns. An idea crosses my mind, so I apply the same approach.


    A map of the entire city appears before me.


    Damn it! If this place is discovered, it could be enough to accuse me of treason against the kingdom. If word gets out, there¡¯s no way I could clear my name.


    No matter what I try, it seems this map has reached its limit.


    I go back to the mansion map and tap randomly on a spot. Suddenly, the layout of a specific room appears¡ªit¡¯s Ivana¡¯s.


    On one of the screens, a live camera feed shows Ivana sleeping in her bed.


    The body¡¯s owner really doesn¡¯t trust anyone; he has surveillance devices everywhere.


    I exit the room and move from one to another.


    In Hank¡¯s room, he¡¯s shirtless, crouched on the ground, making slow, deliberate hand movements as if meditating or something similar.


    I switch to Dexter¡¯s room¡ªhe¡¯s not much different from Hank, except that instead of meditating, he¡¯s doing pull-ups, push-ups, and other exercises.


    In Azaria¡¯s room, she stands by the window, resting her head on her hand, gazing at the sky. Her expression makes me wonder what she¡¯s thinking about.


    It¡¯s the same for all the rooms¡ªeven the monitoring room can be watched. This really is madness, but this gives me complete control.


    On the sides of the table, there are sets of buttons. I hesitate to press one of them, but curiosity wins.


    The moment I press it, a medium-sized screen pops up displaying a list of names alongside their permissions, with options to add or remove them.


    I remember asking Hank about the incident when Ivana locked herself in the bathroom, and I couldn¡¯t open the door no matter how much I tried to apply the method he taught me.


    His response was that I¡¯m the one who grants permissions to those who have the right to use nanotechnology.


    It turns out that the body¡¯s owner gave Ivana control permissions for the room so that when she locks herself inside, no one can open it but her.


    Now, all the permissions are right in front of me. I can remove or add them to her. Interesting.


    My interest grows, so I start experimenting with all the buttons to uncover more fascinating things.


    One of the most significant is a screen of the same size, displaying a geometric outline of a human body with all its medical information, like heart rate and so on.


    At the bottom, there¡¯s a tag that reads:


    Status: Stable.


    If I¡¯m not mistaken, that body is my current one, and that tag comes from the device the doctor used to communicate with me.


    Another screen appears, labeled Call History. The last recorded entry is my call with the doctor.


    Name: Thomas.


    I search through past records but find nothing¡ªit seems everything has been erased. With a little more digging, I discovered a law stating that call logs are deleted after five days.


    I can¡¯t precisely figure out who I was speaking to before I woke up. Damn it! I¡¯m at the mercy of surprises now.


    Should I just wait for someone to call? There has to be a way to contact them¡ªwhat¡¯s the point of all this? What if the body¡¯s owner needed something or wanted to deliver a message? This doesn¡¯t make sense.


    I exit everything and return to the map, specifically the prison map. I tap on a few of the cells randomly, hoping there are cameras installed, but nothing happens. Why didn¡¯t he install cameras in the prison?


    I leave the table to start exploring the place. I randomly pick one of the corridors, which leads me to a room with the same design but without the electronic devices. Instead, there¡¯s a ring-like shape on the floor.


    On the walls are all kinds of weapons.


    Pistols, sniper rifles, hunting weapons, knives, long and short swords, grenades¡ªon and on.


    Don¡¯t tell me the body¡¯s owner was an expert in all of these.


    On the other side, there are also punching bags hanging next to a plastic dummy shaped like a human. It looks like he used to train here.


    I head into another corridor connected to the training room¡ªit¡¯s a mini gym.


    It seems he used to lift weights. Well, that explains the muscle mass I have now. Does this mean I need to start training to maintain it? No, no, no.


    It seems nothing comes for free.


    Anyway, I leave the room and move on to another one. Finally, I¡¯ve found it.


    In one of the rooms with the same structure, there¡¯s a large bed in the center, surrounded by wardrobes. In front of it, a massive writing board covers the wall.


    At last, I¡¯ve found a room that suggests someone actually lived here, unlike the other fake one. It seems the body¡¯s owner used to sleep here.


    Inside the wardrobe, there are clothes that make no effort to hide scars or marks on the body. They really are his clothes.


    But I leave all of this intriguing stuff behind and focus on two things.


    On one of the nearby tables, there¡¯s a collection of medicines¡ªso many that they remind me of the ones I used to take when I was sick in my past life.


    I step closer, taking a deep breath as I try to push away memories of the past, but as if the present refuses to let me forget, it forces me to remember. The type of medicine, the names I read as I hold them in my hands¡ªThis story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Impossible. I could never forget these names, these brands.


    There are medicines to maintain brain cells, medicines to preserve the testicles. With every word I read, my eyebrows rise, and my eyes widen. An idea begins to form in my mind¡ªone that¡¯s difficult for me to comprehend.


    There are also drugs to enhance endurance and maintain the body. Was the body¡¯s owner subjected to procedures for ¡°For better focus¡±?


    Is he like me? Is he one of the victims who underwent those operations?


    As these thoughts race through my mind, pieces of the puzzle start to come together little by little. My legs weaken from the shock, and I sit on the edge of the bed to stop myself from collapsing to the ground.


    A fake assassination.


    A vague and unclear operation.


    The assassination of the doctor who performed the procedure.


    The body¡¯s owner, sexually impaired, who suddenly and without any explanation started reacting to the opposite sex.


    No¡­ don¡¯t tell me the procedure the doctor performed was a factory reset.


    Could that even be possible? But how? If he was like me, how did he survive all these years without dying? Not to mention, he¡¯s a strong-built fighter¡ªhe should be powerless, weak, and drained of energy.


    How could he fight the world in that deteriorated physical state? No, Something¡¯s missing here.


    A thought hits me: maybe the purpose of these medicines is something else. I mean, these are not medicines made specifically for people like us. They¡¯re regular medications for other illnesses, and we just happened to use them.


    What about the procedure?


    I grab my head, and with a quick movement, I run my hands through my hair, turning it into a chaotic mess¡ªjust like my thoughts right now.


    I take a deep breath, feeling like my head is about to explode.


    I¡¯m in an emotional state because this is a sensitive issue that concerns me. I need to calm down and come back to think about this later.


    I get up from the bed and turn my gaze to the wall, covered with random writings.


    The writings are so chaotic that it¡¯s hard to make out anything clearly. It seems like the body¡¯s owner wrote things over one another without erasing the previous ones.


    It looks like he had some kind of internal psychological struggle and used this method to vent his feelings.


    I can sympathize with him. I used to do the same thing in my personal notebook. Of course, I didn¡¯t write in such a hysterical or crazy way, overlapping words like this.


    I focus harder, hoping to notice something. All my attempts fail, but just as I¡¯m about to give up, I manage to make out two things¡ªbarely noticeable but clear because they were written much larger than the rest.


    I grab the pen I found. It looks like the same pen he used to write. I take a sheet of paper, and with deep concentration, I write them down:


    ¡°Why do I have the power of Shadow?¡±


    What?


    Is he talking about a superpower that appeared after taking the serum?


    Without realizing it, I turn my eyes toward one of the shadows in the room. I raise my hand, and as thoughts flood my mind, I recall a particular word.


    No way! Don¡¯t tell me you stole that idea too.


    ¡°Arise.¡±


    ¡­


    I repeat it again and again.


    ¡°Arise.¡±


    Nothing.


    Disappointment hits me. I mean, wouldn¡¯t it be fun if I gained the power I¡¯m thinking of? It wouldn¡¯t be a problem if you stole¡ªI mean, borrowed¡ªsomething amazing.


    (Author: ¡°Borrowed? Now I borrowing? In your dreams.¡±)


    I leave the room while still thinking about what the body¡¯s owner meant by shadow power. And why did he ask why? I mean, isn¡¯t the reason obvious? Wasn¡¯t it the serum? Or is there another source for power?


    I reach the main room. My journey has now brought me back to where I started, as most of the other rooms are empty. It seems the body¡¯s owner had plans to put more things here but ran out of time.


    I stand in front of the table and press all the buttons, discovering what I can.


    I press one, and a faint vibration begins beside the table. A secret passage for the secret cave.


    How many secret things are there?


    Do all the mansions I own now have the same features? And how did he build something like this? Does the old-looking young man know about it? Does the one they call ¡°the Boss¡± know about it? With these thoughts in mind, I descend into the secret passage.


    Should I call it the secret passage to the secret passage of the secret cave?


    Am I losing it? With all the shocks I¡¯ve been through, I should be grateful I still have my sanity.


    I keep walking for about ten seconds until I reach a rusty door. When I open it, it creaks as though I¡¯m violating it.


    I step out into a wide clearing filled with trees. There¡¯s no doubt about it¡ªthis is the same spot where the car stopped to take me to the arena.


    This confirms to me that the old-looking young man knows about the secret passage¡ªI mean, the secret cave¡ªwhich also means the Boss knows.


    I head back to the main room and stand in front of the table, continuing to explore it.


    Another screen appears in front of me, but this time it asks for a password. This surprises me. Since I entered this place, everything has been accessible without any protection¡ªwhy now?


    Of course, I exit the screen. There¡¯s no way I¡¯d guess the password. With these thoughts, I focus again on finding a way to contact them.


    The way I answered the doctor, Thomas¡¯s call, makes me think of something. I don¡¯t know¡­ well, let¡¯s try. What¡¯s the worst that could happen?


    I say to myself, ¡°Call Thomas.¡±


    A mechanical voice responds:


    ¡°Calling Thomas.¡±


    Seconds later, I hear the sound of a phone ringing in my head. Damn it¡ªit actually worked.


    ¡°Sir, is there a problem?¡±


    What do I say now?


    ¡°Resend the address again.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir. Give me a few seconds.¡±


    While I wait, without ending the call, the call history screen appears in front of me again. Under Thomas¡¯s name, I notice a symbol I didn¡¯t see earlier¡ªa mail icon with the number 2 written above it.


    ¡°Has it arrived, sir?¡±


    As he asks, I press the icon, and two messages appear:


    Address: xxxxx


    Address: xxxxx


    ¡°Good.¡±


    I finish speaking internally, and just as I think of ending the call, I hear the same mechanical voice:


    ¡°The conversation has been closed.¡±


    This is truly amazing. It¡¯s as if I¡¯m carrying an entire system with me. Hahaha.


    Now, let¡¯s test this.


    ¡°Call Ivana.¡±


    ¡°Calling Ivana.¡±


    So all I need is to know the person¡¯s name. Of course, the number and name must already exist in the system data.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never called me before. What¡¯s the matter?¡±


    Her sweet voice, always carrying that cold edge, speaks inside my head.


    ¡°I made a mistake. Sorry for disturbing your sleep.¡±


    ¡°How did you know I was asleep?¡±


    Damn it!


    ¡°It¡¯s late, of course you¡¯d be sleeping. Don¡¯t tell me you were doing something else.¡±


    She hangs up without replying, which is a relief. I quickly pull up the camera for her room and see her placing the phone beside her as she goes back to sleep.


    I let out a breath. I need to be more careful. I return to what I was doing.


    If Ivana¡¯s number is in the system, then Hank¡¯s must be there as well. There¡¯s no need to test it. As for Azaria and Dexter, I don¡¯t even know if they have phones in the first place.


    I say to myself, the old-looking young man¡­


    Of course, nothing comes up. I need his name.


    I try the same thing with ¡°BOSS¡±¡­


    same result.


    What about ¡°Number Two¡±? It¡¯s probably another empty attempt¡ªI need to know his name. But to my surprise:


    ¡°Calling Number Two.¡±


    Now I get it. It¡¯s not about the real name but the one entered into the system data. How stupid of me! Focus.


    ¡°Yes, sir, at your command.¡±


    If I¡¯m not mistaken, it¡¯s the same voice as the driver whom the body¡¯s owner ordered to kill Number Two.


    ¡°What did you do with the body?¡±


    ¡°In response to you, sir, I burned it and scattered the ashes in the bathroom.¡±


    He¡¯s decisive, no doubt about it. It¡¯s clear he¡¯s carrying Number Two¡¯s communication device. Building on his previous words, I ask:


    ¡°Is the monitor present?¡±


    Of course, by ¡°the monitor,¡± I mean the old-looking young man.


    ¡°One moment, sir¡­ I don¡¯t sense his presence, sir. Should I prepare the car?¡±


    He can¡¯t sense him? Now it makes sense. The body¡¯s owner gave him the serum¡ªhe has the ability to sense people. It¡¯s all logical now.


    ¡°Not now. You can rest.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, sir.¡±


    I stretch out and yawn, my body aching with exhaustion. It¡¯s been a long day, full of madness. I head toward the room.


    I¡¯ll postpone my visit to Dahi. There¡¯s too much on my mind, too many things to think about.


    I was just about to lie down when the ringing started in my head.


    Who¡¯s calling me now?


    Of course, I answer the call.


    ¡°It¡¯s all because of you! Everything that¡¯s happening is because of you!¡±


    A voice filled with screaming and despair slams into my head. Before even a few seconds pass, the call cuts off.


    This day won¡¯t end, will it?


    I head back to the main room and press the button for the call history screen.


    The name of the last call appears before me.


    Dahi.


    It seems I can¡¯t postpone my visit after all. He did exactly what I was afraid of. psychopath.


    ¡°Call Number Two.¡±


    ¡°Calling Number Two.¡±


    ¡°Sir.¡±


    ¡°Prepare the car. I have something to do.¡±

 chapter 34: Flames That Blame Me for Their Fire.

    While riding the train of my thoughts, the train that has no stops and roams endlessly, Substitute Number Two, whatever his name might be, guides me through the calm streets of the city.


    I jumped off the train because of his voice.


    "We¡¯ve arrived, sir."


    I glance out the window and see just an ordinary four-story building¡ªa modest residence.


    Before getting out, I retrieve a gun from my waist, one I had taken from the secret cave.


    Yes, I called it the secret cave. For now, I don¡¯t have time to come up with a better name.


    I hold the sleek black gun, noticing the intricate details that hint at its fine craftsmanship. Gripping it in my right hand, I expertly release the magazine to check if it¡¯s loaded, then snap it back into place with ease.


    Muscle memory feels like magic. Who would have imagined that I, one day, would hold something like this and feel comfortable using it?


    I tuck it back into my waistband, a thought lingering in my mind: Should I have brought something bigger or more powerful? No, the larger it is, the less efficient it becomes.


    I glance at Substitute Number Two.


    "Do you sense anything in the building?"


    "In response to your, sir,"


    It takes a few seconds. I can''t see his expression, but I have a feeling his eyes are closed.


    "The building is completely empty. There¡¯s only one person on the fourth floor."


    Alright. Before stepping out, a thought strikes me.


    "Don¡¯t stay here. Start moving around the area. Don¡¯t get too close, don¡¯t wander too far, and make sure no one sees you. Wait for my call."


    " Understood."


    Get out of the car, and Substitute Number Two drives off.


    Standing before the building, a strange feeling washes over me¡ªa mix of fear and dread. But there¡¯s nothing I can do about it. I need to confirm that he hasn¡¯t done what I suspect.


    There¡¯s a car parked in front of the building, which I ignore. Entering the dimly lit structure, I notice its blackened walls. It doesn¡¯t seem like paint. The smell of smoke and ash fills my nostrils. Without hesitation, I draw my gun, holding it with both hands, aiming it forward.


    Every sense in my body comes alive. I tread cautiously, focused on my surroundings.


    There¡¯s no elevator, so I¡¯m forced to take the stairs.


    The first floor is silent. Nothing. The second floor is the same. The third floor, too. But the closer I get to the fourth floor, the stronger the smell of burning became, like someone had been roasting meat.


    On the fourth floor, a relatively short corridor leads to two apartments with wooden doors. I approach one of them, the smell of burning wood wafting out. Its surface looks charred.


    Finally, I stand before the door in question¡ªthe apartment that¡¯s supposed to be Dahi¡¯s residence. Cautiously, I knock like any ordinary person would, but it¡¯s as if the door had been waiting to be touched. It collapses with a crash. As soon as it hits the ground, it turns to ash, crumbling from how brittle it had become.


    This only heightens the blaring alarms in my head. I enter with slow steps. The darkness inside is overwhelming¡ªI can barely see anything.


    If not for the faint light from the streetlamps seeping through the large window, I wouldn¡¯t even have noticed the decayed furniture.


    "Dahi? Mr. Dahi? Are you here?"


    No matter how much I call out, there¡¯s no response.


    Of course, I spoke too soon, as usual.


    I wanted an answer, but not this kind.


    My entire body jerks as if on instinct, taking over to protect me from the sudden attack from behind.


    The pitch-black room suddenly lights up with flames that appear behind me. I hurl myself to the ground, rolling away.


    Boom.


    It turns out the light was a fireball igniting one of the leather chairs, which continues to burn, casting flickering light across the room.


    I position myself to face the attacker, and my eyes widen at the horror before me.


    A man engulfed in flames stands before me. Without any warning, he lets out a scream so chilling it makes every hair on my body stand on end.


    "Everything is because of you!"


    He swings his arm, hurling a fireball in my direction. Without thinking, I leap aside, narrowly dodging it. But he doesn¡¯t stop. He keeps throwing fireballs in the same frenzied manner.


    Flames shoot everywhere as he flails his hands, casting burning orbs. I don¡¯t need to be a genius to figure out that if one hits me, I¡¯ll end up like the burning sofa.


    Lowering my body, I move around the cramped apartment, using the narrow space to my advantage, taking cover behind the concrete pillars, which begin to melt under the heat.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    As if bored of this game, he steps closer. I leap away, dodging his erratic attacks with great difficulty due to the limited space. The gun in my hand becomes useless. The situation makes me think¡ªif I had brought something like a sword, this would¡¯ve been easier to handle.


    he halts, letting out a furious scream as sparks erupt from his entire body. The idea of dodging him feels impossible.


    I quickly glance around and, to my relief, spot my only chance of survival: the window beside me.


    With all the strength I can muster, I dash toward it, throwing myself at it with my arms and legs raised to shield me.


    Crash.


    There¡¯s no escaping the sensation of shards slicing into my skin, but who cares? There¡¯s a bigger problem.


    Free fall.


    My arms and legs flail in the air, desperately searching for something to hold onto. But as the ground rushes closer, an idea comes to mind. I curl my body, and to my surprise, instead of hitting the ground, I land on the car¡ªor rather, I crash onto it.


    Boom.


    The force of my impact shatters all the car''s windows, leaving its roof caved in. A faint groan escapes my lips, as if I hadn¡¯t just fallen onto the vehicle from the fourth floor.


    I barely feel any pain in my arms or legs. Without wasting any time, I slide off the car and onto the ground, catching my breath. The shock makes it hard to balance at first.


    But there¡¯s no time to waste. I stand up and turn toward the building.


    Boom.


    The entire structure explodes, consumed by flames.


    The blast throws me through the air until I crash into the wall of the building across the street, my back smashing against it.


    The impact is so violent it forces blood from my mouth as I collapse to the ground. Using my hand for support, I try to make sense of what¡¯s happening.


    I lift my head, noticing shards of debris flying everywhere. Quickly, I throw myself to the side, barely dodging a chunk that strikes the building behind me, which then meets the same fate as its counterpart¡ªreduced to rubble.


    I stand, straightening my back as my eyes scan the scene.


    A massive flame, unlike the others, shoots out from the building and streaks down the street. Every structure it touches ends up just like the first.


    Within seconds, the street becomes a miniature inferno, fire consuming everything in its path.


    ¡°All of this¡­ because of you!¡±


    It¡¯s clear that the source of the chaos is Dahi. He¡¯s flying through the air like a missile, consumed by madness. He¡¯s lost all control, screaming endlessly.


    Fuck you. Who told you to take the serum?


    The thought of running away crosses my mind, but in this state, his body will eventually burn out. He¡¯ll collapse, dead.


    Afterward, there¡¯ll be an investigation. His body will be examined. If the serum is discovered, my life will be in danger.


    With these thoughts racing through my head, I start running after him. But before that, I catch sight of one of the cars that escaped the flames. I approach it, breaking its rear window with my elbow. Reaching inside, Tak a clown mask.


    It¡¯s just in case there are any cameras around. The neighborhood is fairly poor, so it¡¯s unlikely, but better safe than sorry.


    I start running. In the distance, it¡¯s not hard to predict his path¡ªthe trail of burning buildings is a dead giveaway.


    The screams and cries of the residents, burning alive, pierce the air. Damn it.


    I quicken my pace, the wind slamming against my face like I¡¯m riding a motorcycle without a helmet. Am I a cheetah or what?


    My speed is unbelievable. Dahi had taken off a while ago, yet I catch sight of him in no time. The feeling is exhilarating.


    I know this isn¡¯t the right moment to enjoy it, but keep in mind that my life was once filled with weakness and pain. I wouldn¡¯t be exaggerating if I said I can¡¯t even remember the last time I ran.


    Seconds pass, and I get closer. he notices me, because he stops and drops to the middle of the street, turning his fiery body toward me.


    He charges at me like a flaming ball¡ªno, he literally is a flaming ball¡ªhurtling at me at insane speed.


    With both of us rushing toward each other, there¡¯s no way to dodge him. All I can do is jump, tucking my arms and legs to protect my head and vital organs.


    There¡¯s no other choice. If I lose my limbs, at least I¡¯ll keep my life. And with the serum enhancing my body, let¡¯s see what happens.


    It¡¯s like we¡¯re long-lost relatives meeting after years apart. As soon as we collide, we embrace¡ªjust a little more violently than expected.


    Boom.


    I feel my insides shift from the impact. Of course, I lose this clash; he remains in place while I¡¯m sent flying backward, soaring through the air like a missile.


    Luckily, I had tucked in my limbs, sparing them from breaking under the air pressure.


    I keep flying for a while. When I feel my speed beginning to drop, I dare to press my fingers to the ground, creating just enough friction to slow me down. With this move, I¡¯m able to twist my waist and plant my legs on the ground, increasing friction and further reducing my speed.


    After seven seconds, I finally stopped sliding. To my surprise, I don¡¯t feel any burns on my limbs¡ªjust a faint warmth from the friction, barely worth mentioning.


    But my clothes weren¡¯t as lucky.


    I had been wearing pants, which are now shorts. The same goes for my sleeves, leaving my wrists exposed. As the old saying goes: Don¡¯t play with fire.


    I stand up and realize I¡¯m back where I started¡ªnear the car.


    That bastard. It¡¯s like he¡¯s mocking me. I¡¯m right back at square one.


    Once again, he screams like a lunatic and shoots off like a missile. This time, it¡¯s easier to dodge him, but wait¡ªeach time he burns himself out, he gets closer to his end.


    I stand in place, and as he approaches, I sidestep at the last moment, letting him pass by.


    Realizing his position, he crashes into a building, setting it ablaze as he re-emerges from the wreckage, screaming. This time, he charges again, like a raging bull.


    I pull out my gun and fire several rounds at him, but it¡¯s useless. I mean, it was just an attempt. The main plan is still to wait for him to exhaust himself.


    I sidestep again as he barrels past. This time, though, it seems he¡¯s caught onto my strategy. He doesn¡¯t charge with full force, staying closer to me.


    For the first time, I got a good look at his body. I fired the remaining bullets, and luckily, they pierced him. I can even see his reaction¡ªhe groans with each hit. But instead of bleeding or collapsing, he grows more enraged.


    The sound of the gun clicking, signaling I¡¯m out of bullets, rings in my ears. I return it to my waist, stepping backward as he charges again.


    He reminds me of a video game boss whose moves I have to memorize to defeat. The problem is, I need to survive long enough for his energy to run out and his flames to die.


    He charges with more fury than before.


    Suddenly, my instincts kick in.


    The danger ahead is obvious, but I feel something behind me¡ªsomething possibly even faster.


    With a swift sidestep, I dodge both threats, watching as they collide in front of me.


    A massive black sphere, roughly human-sized, crashes into the flaming Dahi, carrying him away on a wild aerial journey.


    I turn to where the sphere came from and see a high-school-aged boy with the face of an old man. In his hand is a hammer, and in the other, a long piece of fabric. He¡¯s wearing night vision goggles, despite the sun having set hours ago, and a black cap sits on his head.


    The old-looking young  man approaches me, and as soon as he reaches my position, we speak the same words at the same time:


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

 chapter 35: The Fire That Refuses to Fade

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    We continue staring at each other, suspicion etched onto both our faces.


    I stand before him, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.


    ¡°Did you just deliberately attack me from behind?¡±


    I step closer to him, narrowing my eyes as I scrutinize his face.


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to dodge. If I were you and couldn¡¯t dodge it, I¡¯d have killed myself out of shame.¡±


    My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his sharp words. I was about to attack him, but suddenly my instincts alert me to an incoming assault from behind.


    With a quick flick of my fingers, I evade the attack¡ªa large ball, similar to the one from earlier, but this time blazing with an intense fire ignited by Dahi¡¯s fury.


    Because I was blocking The old-looking young man¡¯s view, I saw that he couldn¡¯t dodge it. The ball struck him with a force that sent him flying far away.


    Boom.


    I turned to Dahi, who was in his usual rage, screaming madly,


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you! I¡¯ll kill you!¡±


    I cautiously step back a couple of paces, never taking my eyes off The old-looking young man for even a second.


    With the long piece of cloth in his hand, he skillfully tosses it onto the flaming ball as though taming a wild beast. The fabric swallows the ball as if it never existed. Then, with surprising agility, he straightens his posture.


    I inch closer to him cautiously, my gaze still fixed on Dahi, anticipating any sudden attack.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you to kill yourself¡±


    He turns to look at me, and I shrug mockingly.


    ¡°What? Didn¡¯t you just say it was an easy attack to dodge?¡±


    His breathing quickens, his embarrassment quickly turning into seething anger. He turns to Dahi, and though I can¡¯t see his eyes, I can imagine they¡¯re gleaming with hatred.


    Foolishly and recklessly, he charges at Dahi, gripping his hammer with a hand trembling from rage.


    As for me, I exploit the situation with finesse, turning and sprinting in the opposite direction as fast as I can.


    While running, I scan my surroundings, hoping to spot that life-saving red box. It¡¯s the only solution now. The sound of sirens¡ªeither the police or firefighters¡ªbecomes louder and clearer. If I wait until his strength runs out, it will already be too late.


    Boom.


    I hear a deafening crash behind me. Seconds later, something slams into the ground beside me, bouncing several times with such force that it surpasses me.


    Moments later, I see him lying on the ground, his head smashing violently against the hard surface, leaving it bleeding profusely.


    Because of my constant running, I reach him as he struggles to get up. From his tense body language, I can tell he¡¯s still eager to charge at Dahi again. It seems he¡¯s a slow learner.


    I pass him by and say with a voice dripping with sarcasm


    ¡°You can try again if you want, but I¡¯m going to keep running.¡±


    As if he didn¡¯t hear me, he charges forward again with stubborn foolishness, only to repeat the same painful scene once more.


    Boom.


    But this time, it seems he¡¯s finally learned his lesson. Instead of recklessly charging, he joins me in the marathon.


    ¡°What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    I wanted to annoy him further, but there¡¯s no time for that. The sirens are getting sharper, a sign that the authorities are nearly at the scene of the fight.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for a firebox. Water¡¯s the only thing that can stop him, but I can¡¯t find one in this cursed street.¡±


    ¡°This street doesn¡¯t have one. There¡¯s one on the opposite side,¡±.


    How does he know something only locals would? Don¡¯t tell me he lives around here. Such coincidences can¡¯t possibly happen, can they?


    the sharp scent of burning fills the air, drawing closer to us rapidly. We pause for a moment, then move apart swiftly to avoid it. Dahi, however, appears to have learned something too.


    He remains rooted in the same spot we were just in, like a ticking time bomb about to explode.


    Boom.


    The force of the blast sends both of us flying backward violently. We keep tumbling until we crash hard into a nearby building.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    Thankfully, I have a strong body, so I didn¡¯t feel much damage. I quickly regain my balance and stand, ready for whatever¡¯s coming next.


    ¡°I know, I know. You¡¯ll kill me. I got it. Can you shut fuck  your annoying mouth? It hurts more than your flames.¡±


    ¡°Ahhhhh!¡±


    The old-looking young man isn¡¯t as lucky as me. From his painful groans, it¡¯s clear he¡¯s severely hurt from smashing into the wall. It takes him a lot longer to stand, and when he does, he¡¯s visibly trembling.


    The firebox is in an alleyway at the far end of the street¡ªa distance that now feels unreachable because of the street¡¯s length and Dahi¡¯s relentless pursuit. At this moment, only one idea comes to mind to escape this mess.


    I take a deep breath, looking at my clothes, which I¡¯ll inevitably have to sacrifice. As I mentally and physically prepare myself for what¡¯s next, Dahi begins to scream hysterically, his body staggering from the objects being thrown at him.


    The old-looking young man appears out of nowhere, wielding objects resembling playing cards. With movements so swift they¡¯re nearly imperceptible, he starts launching them at Dahi, skillfully moving his arms in every direction.


    The sharp sounds of the cards slicing through the air fill the scene, accompanied by Dahi¡¯s agonized cries.


    The strange cards pierce Dahi¡¯s blazing body with astonishing ease, and some even come dangerously close to me. I quickly tilt my head to the side, avoiding one that embeds itself into the wall behind me. Curious, I turn to examine it closely.


    They¡¯re really just playing cards, but unlike anything I¡¯ve seen before. I cautiously touch one with my fingers, and suddenly, it loses its sharp, solid form, returning to a simple, bent card stuck to the wall.


    The old-looking young man persists in his relentless attack. I wonder how many cards he has in his magical arsenal.


    Dahi continues to scream and stumble as he endures the onslaught, but I can tell he¡¯s building up energy. He¡¯s going to explode soon, and if I¡¯m not mistaken, this time it¡¯ll be far more powerful.


    I move with lightning speed to avoid the blast. The old-looking young man notices my swift movements and seems to deduce the reason, following suit but in the opposite direction.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    Boom.


    This time, the explosion is unlike anything I¡¯ve ever seen. The ground melts like wax, and the heat reaches my feet with terrifying speed. As if the massive explosive pressure wasn¡¯t enough, the ground has become fragile and unstable.


    Summoning all my strength, I leap into the air. To my surprise, I reach the height of the second floor of a building. Unfortunately, there¡¯s nothing to land on as it¡¯s engulfed in raging flames.


    So, within moments, I fall back to the ground, but this time, I spring off with only the tips of my toes. Once again, I launch myself into the air, this time managing to grab onto a streetlight pole that has somehow survived all this chaos.


    I stand on the narrow edge of the streetlight pole, staring directly at the center of the explosion where Dahi stands, trying to assess the situation quickly.


    The force of the explosion and the melting of everything around us have caused thick smoke to rise, making it nearly impossible to see clearly.


    Damn that monster! He¡¯s made everything worse than I ever imagined. What should I do now? What should I do? My plan was to exploit his hatred for me so he¡¯d use his fire to create a path to the other alley, but now, all I can see is the chaotic destruction surrounding us on all sides.


    Is it just me, or is his fire growing hotter with time? At first, it could barely burn the buildings, but now it¡¯s melting them, turning them into wax. Damn it!


    I notice the molten ground creeping dangerously close to the pole I¡¯m standing on, forcing me to leap to the farthest one I can reach.


    The idea of abandoning everything and running away rises strongly in my chest, but I push it down. I lift my head, taking a quick glance at the nearby buildings, searching for an escape route.


    Could I climb the buildings like a monkey, leaping from one to another? That thought vanishes the moment I take a closer look at the warped, misshapen structures.


    The buildings are melting, collapsing without even needing the flames to touch them. If even a single shard grazes me, I¡¯d likely melt away like ice cream on a scorching summer day.


    Once again, as I try to think of a solution, the molten destruction rushes toward me at a terrifying speed, forcing me to leap backward with all my strength. But there¡¯s nothing solid to land on, so I end up standing on a patch of ground that the melting hasn¡¯t reached yet. Without waiting, I start running in the opposite direction from Dahi as fast as I can.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    The voice I used to mock every time I heard it now sends shivers down my spine. Without thinking, I glance back and see a massive flame in the center of which two fiery red eyes glare at me with unspeakable fury.


    My sweat-drenched body, acting on its own, leaps forward, turn directly at his eyes, bracing for his next attack.


    What am doing? I was about to resist, but a thought crossed my mind: if it weren¡¯t for this body¡¯s instincts, I wouldn¡¯t have survived until now. With this realization, I place my trust in it, my heart pounding wildly as I await the inevitable.


    It¡¯s as if he was waiting for me. As soon as I gather my courage, he lets out his usual scream and opens something like a void from which emerges an enormous ball, larger than anything I¡¯ve seen before.


    "RRRAAAAAAAHHH!"


    "WHOOOOOOOSH-CRACKLE!"


    The closer the ball gets, the more I doubt my decision, but it¡¯s not as though I have another choice. It¡¯s so massive there¡¯s no way to avoid it or leap over it.


    I crouch low, spreading my arms wide, readying myself for whatever pain comes. As it nears, I strike it with my bare hands as if wrestling a raging bull. Fueled by the idea that suddenly comes to mind...


    Boom.


    My arms collide with the massive ball with shocking force. To my surprise, the fire and pain I expected weren¡¯t as overwhelming as I¡¯d imagined. But that doesn¡¯t mean it was easy by any means.


    I spoke too soon. The immense pressure created by the ball pushes my body back forcefully, weakening my momentum to counter the attack. If I give in, it¡¯ll consume me in an instant. I don¡¯t know my body¡¯s limits, but I can easily predict it can only take so much.


    Suddenly, I remember a move I once saw in an anime.


    Bit by bit, I shift the ball¡¯s weight and momentum onto one leg. I can feel the muscles straining to the point of tearing, not to mention the bones creaking under the tremendous pressure. Gritting my teeth, I move with speed, lifting my other leg, and with a kick that carries every ounce of strength I have, I send the ball hurtling toward the sky.


    Boom.


    The impact of the collision sends a violent shockwave through the air, instantly extinguishing most of the surrounding flames.


    "WHOOOOOOOSH-CRACKLE!"


    The massive fireball soars into the sky like a rocket, piercing through the clouds gathering on the horizon.


    All my strength abandons me in that moment, and I collapse onto the ground, gasping for every shred of oxygen I can get. The hot air makes breathing harder than it¡¯s ever been.


    As my chest heaves in search of relief, a deafening explosion comes from the dark sky above.


    ¡°doooom¡±


    I don¡¯t know what the ball collided with, but the impact creates an indescribable force. The resulting windstorm sweeps everything into the air like autumn leaves.


    I¡¯m literally thrown into the air like a feather. No matter how much I try, I can¡¯t control my movements or regain balance. I have no idea how far I¡¯ve been flung, spinning like a ball in the air, my limbs flailing. The immense pressure robs me of my hearing, leaving only a sharp ringing in my ears.


    Finally, I crash to the ground, and the pain that erupts in my back is beyond description.


    ¡°ahh¡±


    A scream I didn¡¯t know I had escapes me, raw and powerful. I¡¯d started to think I was invincible, but this pain pulls me harshly back to reality.


    As I struggle to process the agony tearing through my body, I manage to move my eyes slowly, the only part of me that doesn¡¯t hurt to shift.


    The scene around me resembles a fiery hell. The flames that consumed everything moments ago have now vanished, leaving behind nothing but smoldering debris.


    Wherever I look, all I see is blackened ruins.


    The sky is black with smoke, the ground charred and scorched. The walls that somehow remain standing are cracked and blackened, while those that melted into thick, solid sludge are just as dark as the night.


    Bit by bit, I begin to regain feeling in my legs, accompanied by waves of pain. Using what little strength I have left, I lift myself up with great difficulty, searching for that lunatic Dahi.


    I finally manage to rise, realizing there¡¯s not a shred of clothing left on me. Yes, I¡¯m completely naked now, save for the clown mask that somehow survived¡ªdon¡¯t ask how.


    Anyone who sees me now would get quite the view of my little friend now.... my honor is at stake. But in this chaos, who cares about that? Luckily, I don¡¯t have any serious burns.


    Am I somehow anti-combustion? That question lingers briefly before I refocus on the current situation.


    All the flames have died out now, leaving behind only rubble and columns of steam rising into the air. The steam blocks my view, making it impossible to confirm whether that monster is still alive or if he¡¯s finally met his end.


    I¡¯m sure the fire consumed him. He must either be dead or on the brink of death.


    The steam rises slowly, joining its companions in the clouds forming above, and reveals the still-burning curse that refuses to die.


    Damn you and your entire lineage! Why is he still alive? Just die already, you bastard!


    ¡°...kill you... It¡¯s your fault... it¡¯s your fault...¡±


    He keeps repeating the same sentence endlessly, staggering toward me at an unnervingly slow pace.


    I can barely stand, leaning on my trembling knees for support as exhaustion and pain overwhelm me.


    He approaches at an agonizingly slow speed, his body still emitting flames. But it¡¯s clear that his fire is on the verge of dying out completely.


    I¡¯m so drained that I can¡¯t even move, let alone run or dodge. All I can do is stand here and wait for my fate.


    When he¡¯s halfway between us, something gleaming slices through the air with remarkable precision, striking him directly in the knees.


    ¡°Aaaah!¡±


    For the first time, Dahi lets out a scream of pain instead of his usual threats.


    Behind him appears The old-looking young man, completely naked. He¡¯s lucky he wasn¡¯t the one to confront that massive fireball earlier, or he¡¯d undoubtedly be dead by now.


    I can see that his body is far weaker than mine. Damn, what a disgusting sight. I wasn¡¯t wrong when I said he¡¯s sick. His body is that of an old man, covered in wrinkles and scars. Could this be a side effect of the mysterious serum?


    Wait, am I imagining things, or he doesn''t have little¡­ no, it¡¯s better not to think about that right now.


    Dahi doesn¡¯t stop crawling, pushing himself forward with his hands. Even though it¡¯s over for him, he¡¯s determined to reach me somehow. The few remaining flames flicker weakly on his charred body, a body even his fire didn¡¯t spare.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s¡­ fault...¡±


    If I didn¡¯t already know the words he was mumbling, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to hear him; he can¡¯t even fully open his mouth anymore.


    He keeps crawling closer while I continue gathering what little strength I have left in my battered body. Meanwhile, the revolting, naked old man stumbles toward us as well, his body marred with burn marks, as if he needed any more disfigurements.


    Just as Dahi gets within a few steps of me, a light drizzle begins to fall from the sky. The drizzle gradually turns into a downpour, drenching him completely and extinguishing the last of the flames on his body. Along with the fire, his life fades away as he utters his final words:


    ¡°You¡­ fault, you...¡±


    I take a deep breath as I collapse to the ground, utterly spent.


    Stop blaming me and blame your greed. If you hadn¡¯t dared to take the serum, none of this would have happened. This is all your fault, not mine.


    The old-looking young man stands over Dahi¡¯s charred corpse, snorting in contempt. Out of nowhere, he produces a long cloth, tossing it over the body, which vanishes as if it never existed.


    He slowly turns to face me.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. We don¡¯t have much time,¡±


    His words send a surge of unease through me.


    ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    Turning to me with an icy calm


    ¡°To the place where he worked¡ªthe animal shelter.¡±


    His words erase every trace of my exhaustion. I stand up, cursing silently to myself.


    shit, I''ve been caught?