Max ended the call with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He remembered the name Anton Stable all too well. It wasn’t as though Anton had done anything that left a deep wound or lasting scar, but Max never forgot faces or slights. At Sheri’s graduation celebration, Anton had been the one who brazenly raised his hand against him, striking out not out of necessity, but out of petty pride. The blow hadn’t even landed properly; Max hadn’t been hurt. Yet the insult lingered. Why, Max reasoned, would he ever lift a hand to help someone who had already tried to humiliate him in public?
The answer was simple, he wouldn’t. That was why Anton’s name had been etched into his memory, tucked away like a note underlined in red ink. Max had expected he might cross paths with the man again, someday in the distant future. He had not expected that day to arrive so soon.
Darno, meanwhile, sat at the reception desk with the receiver still buzzing faintly in his hand, staring at it as though the words he had just heard couldn’t possibly be real.
"Did he just..." Darno thought, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together the order. "Did he just tell me I can beat up this guest if I want to?"
The idea was absurd, almost laughable. In all his years, through every job he’d held and every fight he’d been part of, no employer had ever explicitly given him that kind of permission. Security work meant restraining drunks, holding down troublemakers, keeping violence at bay. Yet here, in the polished halls of the Billion Bloodline headquarters, Darno had just been told he could unleash his fists if he deemed it necessary.
Across the desk, Anton was tapping his polished shoe impatiently against the marble floor. His smug grin hadn’t wavered; if anything, it had grown sharper, as though he sensed victory just waiting for him.
"Well?" Anton snapped, his tone dripping with irritation. "Have you asked them? Are they coming? Or do I need to stand here all day before you finally do your job?"
Darno slowly set the phone down on the desk, the faint grin returning to his lips. He rose from his chair with a casualness that belied the tension crackling in the air.
"I asked," he said, stretching his shoulders as though loosening up before a sparring match. "And unfortunately, the answer’s no. No one wants to see you right now. In fact, I was told to tell you to leave the premises... and never come back." He let the words linger in the air, his smile widening into something sharp and amused.
"What!" Anton’s voice cracked with disbelief, echoing off the high ceiling of the reception hall. "That’s ridiculous! Did you even tell them who I am? Did you mention my name? Did you tell them I brought a gift?"
"I told them," Darno replied with a shrug as he leaned back into his chair. He raised one finger and, with exaggerated laziness, dug into his nose. "And if anything, that’s exactly why they don’t want to see you."
"That’s impossible!" Anton’s face flushed a deep shade of red as he slammed his palm against the desk. "You didn’t make the call properly, did you? You’re incompetent! Look at you, you don’t even belong at this desk. What are you doing here, sitting around, pretending to be a receptionist when it’s obvious you can’t handle something this simple?"
Darno tilted his head, his grin never fading. Beneath the desk, his knuckles cracked as he flexed his hands.
"I never thought I’d meet one in person," he said, his tone mocking. "A male Karen. This is going to be fun." He straightened suddenly, his posture sharp and his eyes narrowing. "So let me ask you one thing, and depending on your answer, I’ll know exactly what to do with you next. Are you refusing to leave?"
"Of course I am!" Anton barked, his chest puffing up as though his bravado could shield him. "I refuse to leave until you bring someone competent to speak with me. I want to see the manager, the chairman, anyone, just not you!"
Darno’s grin stretched into a wolfish smile. "Good. That’s all I needed to hear."
In one smooth, practiced motion, Darno vaulted over the reception desk. His boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, and he began rolling his shoulders, pounding one fist into the open palm of his other hand as he stalked forward. The sound echoed like a drumbeat, each strike of flesh against flesh sending a warning through the air.
Anton’s bravado faltered. He stumbled back a step, eyes darting to the two guards at the door, but neither moved to intervene. His voice rose in a desperate cry. "You can’t scare me! If you lay a finger on me, you’ll lose your job. Do you hear me? You’ll be finished!"
Darno chuckled darkly, his shadow falling over Anton as he loomed closer. "Unfortunate for you," he said, savoring every syllable, "I’ve been given permission."
Before Anton could react, Darno’s fist shot forward. Anton’s reflexes kicked in, he lifted both arms, crossing them in front of his face in a desperate attempt to block. But Darno’s punch tore through his guard like paper. The sheer force of it shattered Anton’s defense, his arms thrown aside as the knuckles smashed squarely into his face.
There was a sickening crack, and Anton’s head snapped back violently. His entire body lifted off the ground before collapsing like a ragdoll against the polished floor.
For a moment, silence filled the reception. Anton lay sprawled on the ground, barely conscious, his limbs twitching. Darno crouched down beside him, plucking the Lamborghini keys from his limp fingers. He turned them over in his hand, admiring the gleam of the emblem.
"The boss isn’t even in this building," Darno muttered, slipping the keys into his pocket. "And this gift was meant for him, wasn’t it? Not for that so-called representative. Which means... he’ll never even know about it. Guess that makes these mine."
Whistling softly, Darno turned his back and walked casually toward the desk again, rolling the keys between his fingers. For once, he felt almost grateful to Max’s mysterious representative.
"Maybe he’s not such a bad boss after all," Darno thought with a grin. "Letting me punch this smug idiot? That was more satisfying than I imagined."
A few minutes passed before Anton stirred, groaning as he forced himself to sit up. His head throbbed, his vision blurred, and when he touched his face, a sharp pain lanced through his jaw. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, his entire body trembling.
"You hit me," Anton rasped, his voice cracking. "You really hit me... You’ll pay for this. Do you hear me?" He staggered toward the door, each step filled with fury and humiliation. "I won’t forget your face. I’ll make you pay for this, if it’s the last thing I do!"
Darno rose halfway out of his chair, cracking his knuckles again as he lifted one threatening fist in the air. The gesture was enough. Anton bolted, scurrying out through the main entrance, clutching his face as he disappeared into the courtyard.
Outside, he turned back one last time, glaring at the looming building. The logo above the door seemed to glint mockingly in the sunlight. His humiliation burned hotter than the pain in his jaw.
The Billion Bloodline Group had made an enemy of him today. And Anton Stable, bruised but seething, silently vowed that Darno would become his first target.