Raphael gently massaged his forehead, fatigue etched deep between his brows.
Lyra placed a cup of coffee on the table and quietly sat down beside him, her eyes filled with concern.
-"Raphael, are you alright?" she asked softly. "You've been so quiet since yesterday. Did something happen? Tell me, please."
Raphael leaned back against the sofa, as if all strength had drained from him. His voice was hoarse:
-"You already know… Vernon once stole one of my projects. Even though he's dead, there are still many others targeting the company."
Lyra fell silent for a moment, then asked slowly:
-"Then… who's the one facing you head-on now?"
Raphael let out a soft sigh and answered:
-"The Sargan Corporation. Chairman Ethan Morvant… He's far more powerful than Vernon ever was.
Unlike Vernon, he doesn't stab in the dark — he crushes you openly with his sheer influence."
Lyra's hands tightened slightly. She pondered for a moment:
-"But this project… you've poured your heart into it. We can't afford to lose it."
-"I know," Raphael said, closing his eyes, his voice even more weary. "If I cooperate with him, he'll suffocate me with pressure. But if I refuse… I could lose the project altogether."
Silence enveloped the room.
Lyra smiled gently, her voice as soft as a breeze:
-"There's always a way out. Don't corner yourself too soon.
With your talent, I believe… you'll find a path through this."
Hearing her words, Raphael offered a faint smile. He pushed himself up, sitting straighter:
-"Yeah… Anyway, it's getting late. Don't you have to head to work? Let me drive you."
-"No need," Lyra said with a smile. "I can manage. You should head to the office too."
She stood up and walked toward the door.
But deep within her gentle gaze, quiet calculations had already begun to form.
A single name was etched silently into her mind.
Ethan Morvant.
When the undercurrents rise… no one can remain untouched.
——————————————————
At the underground training grounds, Aaron was undergoing a harsh session under the guidance of Jimson Snake.
Today's training focused on reflexes and agility.
Aaron was hunched over, gasping for breath. He was still too weak — his body not yet flexible, his reactions far too slow.
At this level, if he were to enter a real battle… he would surely be the first to be wiped out.
"Bang!"
A sudden kick from Jimson sent Aaron crashing to the ground, dust swirling into the air.
But just seconds later, Aaron gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, his gaze stubborn and determined.
Jimson stood there, his icy eyes unyielding.
-"Faster," Jimson commanded, his voice steady but carrying immense pressure.
"Get up. Give it everything. No holding back."
Aaron took a deep breath, trying to mimic the moves Jimson had demonstrated earlier.
This time, he clenched his fists tighter and charged straight at Jimson.
Faster, more decisive.
But to Jimson Snake, those strikes were still far too naive.
With just a slight shift of his body, Jimson effortlessly dodged.
But right at that moment, a small knife slipped from Aaron's sleeve, its steel gleaming sharply.
Without hesitation, Aaron switched direction and lunged at Jimson!
A brief flicker of surprise crossed Jimson's eyes.
Not bad. He was learning to conceal his attacks.
Still too inexperienced, though.
Jimson spun swiftly, delivering a clean spinning kick that knocked the knife from Aaron's hand.
Aaron's wrist went numb. Before he could react, Jimson had already slipped behind him, grabbing his shoulder and throwing him hard to the ground once again.
-"Ugh…!"
Aaron groaned, sliding across the floor, his palms scraping against the rough surface, blood seeping out.
Jimson looked down at him from above, his gaze devoid of any sympathy.
-"Don't be so weak," he said coldly, the corner of his lips lifting in a mocking smirk.
"I'm not Lucian — don't expect any mercy from me."
Aaron bared his teeth in a crooked smile, pained but still standing up and dusting himself off:
-"I know…"
He lifted his head, his clear eyes sparkling with pure admiration:
"But… compared to me, you're the real flower."
Jimson froze for a moment. A low chuckle escaped his throat.
-"Are you complimenting me?"
He crossed his arms, looking every bit like a cold, arrogant blossom.
-"Yeah," Aaron nodded eagerly, completely unabashed.
"You're very beautiful. Like a flower… but a poisonous one."
It was the truth.
Jimson Snake — slender, pale-skinned, with a flawless face — yet his movements were swift as the wind, and his strikes ruthless, chilling.
A fragrant flower… hiding deadly poison beneath.
-"Oh," Jimson replied lazily, strolling over to pick up the fallen knife.
He handed it back to Aaron, a faint, unreadable smile in his eyes:
-"I like that compliment. And I'll compliment you too — for your cunning.
In this world, integrity is unnecessary."
Aaron blinked, still clutching the knife, before he could even respond, Jimson had already moved away, instinctively maintaining distance.
Aaron's gaze accidentally drifted to Jimson's left hand — the one always clad in a black glove.
-"You always wear a glove on your left hand, huh?" Aaron asked curiously.
Jimson halted. His gaze grew a few degrees colder.
-"Yeah," came the curt reply.
Aaron pressed his lips together, choosing not to pry further.
He still remembered Lucian's warning clearly:
"Don't be curious about Jimson Snake."
After a brief silence, Jimson turned around:
-"That's enough for today. I'm busy tomorrow."
With that, he strode away, his slender figure exuding a cold, flowing grace — like a silver blade slicing through the air.
Aaron stood still, his eyes following Jimson's departing figure, a strange mix of emotions swelling in his chest — a bit of admiration, a bit of curiosity, and something else… unnamed.
——————————————————
The next day, at a luxurious five-star hotel, inside a lavish room bathed in golden light, the door creaked open slightly.
A tall figure, dressed completely in black with a mask covering his face, stepped inside, his movements steady yet chilling. It was Atropa.
His eyes sharp and wary, Atropa scanned the entire room, as if every corner could hide a trap.
He slowly made his way toward the balcony, carefully checking the surroundings. Every movement was silent, leaving not the faintest sound.
Atropa — Jimson Snake's most trusted and loyal subordinate.
In the blood-soaked underworld, where killing was the unspoken law, Jimson Snake was infamous for a different method of death: poison.
No one knew exactly how Jimson struck. No one dared to cross him.
Because those who provoked Jimson Snake… died mysteriously.
Jimson — a man who secured his victory before the game even began.
An arrogant monster whose moves were always unfathomable.
Thus, Atropa's presence here today could only mean one thing — someone was about to be eliminated.
But as Atropa continued his inspection, a voice, cold as the morning frost, rang out behind him:
—"What are you doing, Atropa?"
Startled, Atropa spun around.
Jimson Snake was already standing by the door — clad in black, a baseball cap shading half his face.
Only his slender chin and a faint, disdainful smile were visible.
-"I'm carrying out the mission you assigned. Isn't the target supposed to be here?"
Atropa frowned slightly, confused.
Jimson didn't answer right away.
Instead, he lazily lifted a silenced pistol — moving with a nonchalance that suggested he hardly needed to aim.
A sharp click echoed as he cocked the gun.
—Bang!—
A muffled gunshot rang out, and the bullet shot cleanly through the wall behind a flower vase.
Instantly, shards of metal flew out — exposing a tiny, almost imperceptible camera.
A thin wisp of smoke rose from the ruined device.
Atropa stared in shock.
-"W-What… What's going on…?"
Jimson smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with a cold amusement:
-"Someone was here before us… and planted surveillance."
-"Trying to watch a little show, huh? Tch."
His voice was lazy, yet carried an unmistakable note of warning.
Atropa immediately bowed his head, unease flashing across his face:
-"Shall I eliminate them, Boss?"
Jimson casually spun the gun in his hand, his gaze teasing and unreadable:
-"No need. Let them enjoy the show a little longer."
"The real work comes first. Let's go."
-"Understood, Boss!"
Atropa responded crisply and quickly followed Jimson, their figures melting into the darkness like two silent phantoms.
…
Not long after.
The door creaked open once more.
A middle-aged man stepped inside, a smug expression on his face.
He tossed his coat onto the sofa, frowning:
-"What's that awful smell?"
He sniffed the air a few times but didn't think much of it. Casually, he poured himself a glass of water and downed it in one gulp.
And then—
-"Aaaaaaah!!"
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the room as he clutched his stomach, his face contorting in terror.
Within seconds, his entire body began convulsing violently, his eyes bulging as if about to burst from their sockets.
He collapsed onto the floor, his body turning cold — dead before he could even utter a last word.
—————
News of Chairman Ethan Morvant's sudden death quickly spread throughout the hotel.
Police, forensic doctors… all arrived within minutes, sealing off the scene under strict control.
Amidst the chaos, Lyra stood silently inside the crime scene.
Without any excess expression, she quietly observed every corner.
Her gaze quickly landed on a hidden spot — where tiny fragments were scattered across the floor.
A shattered piece of a hidden camera.
Lyra crouched down, her fingertips lightly brushing over the cold fragments, her eyes darkening.
-"There was a hidden camera… and it was shot to pieces with deadly precision."
"Jimson Snake?"
She murmured, her face cold as ice but her eyes filled with deep contemplation.
Pacing slowly around the room, Lyra analyzed every detail:
-"Ethan Morvant died from Manchineel poisoning.
An extremely lethal toxin — even inhaling a trace amount could cause instant death."
She tightened her grip on the balcony railing, her gaze growing even darker:
"But why… isn't there any trace left?
No ash, no lingering toxins, no residue."
A bold thought flashed through her mind:
-"Could it be… he's still nearby?"
Just then, her phone rang, pulling her from her train of thought.
-"Hello? Raphael? Yes… I'll be right down."
Hanging up, she concealed her emotions and swiftly left the room.
…
Down at the hotel entrance, Raphael sat inside a black car, his eyes tense as he watched the front doors.
Lyra approached quickly, opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat.
Raphael turned his head slightly, asking quietly:
-"What were you doing up there?"
Lyra offered a faint, composed smile:
-"Chairman Ethan Morvant has just died.
According to the report, the cause was poisoning.
I wanted to gather more details."
Her voice was soft and calm, almost ripple-free, but her deep eyes reflected a coldness that was difficult to see through.
Raphael froze.
-"He's dead too?"
His hands instinctively tightened around the steering wheel.
"Death after death… and somehow, they're all connected to me."
A chill crept up his spine.
Lyra sat silently beside him, her gaze seemingly probing the darkness for hidden answers.
Inside her, an unyielding resolve burned fiercely:
"Jimson Snake…
Sooner or later, I'll drag you out of that mist."
Without another word, Raphael started the engine and sped away from the hotel.
…
Across the street, atop a tall building, a slender figure stood motionless in the shadows.
The dim streetlight barely caught the edge of a long black coat billowing in the wind.
His eyes followed the fleeing car into the night.
No one heard the faint sigh that lingered in the air:
-"….."
In his darkened eyes — a trace of cold, wistful longing glimmered, as if he had never truly let go.
———————————————————
-"Boss, why didn't we leave a clue to toy with them like we did before?"
Atropa followed closely behind Jimson, questioning him curiously.
Jimson continued walking ahead, his cold voice slicing through the air:
-"Because this time, there was only one target.
If we leave a trace, more people will die.
You know how potent Manchineel poison is."
Atropa shuddered slightly, then asked again:
-"So what do we do now…?"
-"No need to do anything.
Just relax for a while."
Jimson stopped, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, mocking smile, his voice calm:
"And… let's wait and see what Doll's Eyes will do next."
-"Yes, Boss."
Atropa nodded, quickening his pace to keep up.
Suddenly, Jimson came to an abrupt halt, sliding his hand into his coat pocket — a casual movement, yet brimming with hidden menace.
A fleeting, amused smile tugged at his lips.
-"But first…
We should ask our little wolf cub following us what exactly he wants."
As his words fell, a small, sharp blade shot from Jimson's sleeve, slicing through the air and lodging itself with chilling precision into a large tree nearby.
From behind the tree, a small figure hesitantly stepped out… It was Aaron.
-"Got caught."
Aaron pouted, slowly approaching Jimson.
-"Why were you following us?"
Jimson asked, his voice cold, his gaze deep and unreadable.
-"Curious… I saw you coming out of the hotel and thought I could learn something if I followed you…"
Aaron answered softly, a bit sheepish.
Jimson exhaled deeply, his eyes locking onto Aaron, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly again:
-"Lucian's not around, so you're feeling a bit bored, aren't you, Aaron?"
Aaron didn't deny it, simply giving a small nod.
-"How much have you learned from what I taught you?"
Jimson asked coldly.
-"I practiced a lot! Really!"
Aaron immediately straightened up, answering with a spark of confidence.
Jimson nodded slightly, then turned, his voice louder but still icy:
-"Come out.
Stop hiding like cowards."
As soon as his words dropped, large, fierce-looking men quickly emerged from the shadows.
They were enemies of Lucian — some even held grudges against Jimson, who had occasionally cooperated with Lucian to foil their plans.
Sensing an opportunity, Jimson decided to let Aaron have a real fight.
-"Use everything I taught you."
Jimson stood with arms crossed, his gaze fixed intently on Aaron.
Understanding Jimson's meaning, Aaron didn't retreat.
Instead, he charged forward like a young wolf learning to bite and tear.
He was nimble and agile, quickly taking down several men and even dodging some who wielded weapons.
-"Not bad at all,"
Atropa commented while observing.
-"Right now, he's still a young wolf,
But it won't be long before he becomes a true one."
Jimson replied coldly, his eyes filled with depth.
-"Aah—!"
Aaron was kicked hard, sent sprawling across the ground.
Despite his efforts, it was hard to handle so many enemies alone.
-"Boss… Should we—?"
Atropa turned toward Jimson, awaiting his signal.
-"I'll do it."
Jimson said decisively.
In an instant, he dashed forward.
With swift, clean movements and only a few light touches, every enemy fell one after another, their faces twisted in agony… yet strangely, there wasn't a single visible wound.
They died from poison.
-"That was amazing…"
Aaron, helped up by Atropa, looked at Jimson with unhidden admiration.
Finishing the job, Jimson casually dusted off his hands, his expression still as cold as ever.
-"It's time for you to go back."
Jimson said calmly, looking at Aaron.
-"Huh?"
Aaron blinked in confusion — but just then, a sleek sports car slid to a stop right in front of him.
The door swung open, and from within, a wave of icy air swept out…
Lucian stepped out, his whole presence exuding heavy killing intent.
-"Lucian… Lucian…"
Aaron stammered, paling slightly.
-"Let's go."
Lucian said coldly, grabbing Aaron's hand and pulling him into the car.
As they passed by, Lucian gave Jimson a brief, indifferent glance and said:
"Not bad training."
-"You're too kind."
Jimson replied casually, hands in his pockets, turning away without a care.
The car sped off, leaving only a trail of dust behind.
Jimson continued walking, calling out:
-"Let's head back."
-"Yes, Boss!"
Atropa responded quickly, hurrying after him.
The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the ground, leaving only the two figures gradually swallowed by the fading light.
EndofChapter16.