The second day had been a grand success for the Billion Bloodline group, which was good news for Max.
Lately, it felt like the group had been dragged from trouble straight into more trouble without ever being given a chance to breathe. None of them had planned for things to spiral the way they did with the Black Hounds. It wasn’t something they had actively sought out, nor was it part of any grand strategy. One situation had simply rolled into another, connections overlapping until suddenly they were caught in something much bigger than they originally intended.
Because of that, receiving a large payment and dealing with the Gilt Rats without any real resistance felt almost surreal. For once, something had gone smoothly. Too smoothly, perhaps.
"But they’re going to find out," Aron said, his voice calm but heavy with concern, while Max leaned back in his chair with a smug look plastered across his face.
"Even though you’ve done well so far, there’s no doubt they’ll eventually get information that we’re the ones who were hired. And once that happens, they won’t just target the company... they could target you directly."
Aron was always cautious, always thinking several steps ahead, but Max had never seen him speak this openly about worry before. It wasn’t the usual calculated risk assessment. There was something personal behind it this time, something that clearly hadn’t left Aron’s mind for even a moment.
The real reason for that concern was obvious.
The Gilt Rats weren’t operating alone anymore. They had someone from the Black Hand working alongside them.
The Black Hand weren’t just another gang or group of thugs. They were mercenaries, highly trained and versatile in almost every field imaginable. Combat, infiltration, sabotage, surveillance, assassination — there was little they weren’t capable of. The fact that the Gilt Rats were now moving with someone like that meant things were no longer limited to street fights or intimidation tactics.
And the most worrying part was that Aron couldn’t stay by Max’s side at all times. That lack of control gnawed at him constantly.
"You’re right," Max replied after a moment, his tone more serious than before. "But we already knew they were going to get involved eventually. This was always how it was going to go."
Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes focused as if he were already running through possibilities in his head.
"They were going to come after us either way. Whether it was because of the department store or something else, it doesn’t really matter. The best way for us to defend ourselves isn’t by hiding or reacting every time they make a move."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"It’s by getting stronger. For us, that means learning how to use our vows properly and earning more money. And honestly, in this city, there are plenty of people with too much money and not enough sense."
Max chuckled quietly.
"That’s why we ended up going after the same person in the first place."
Still, even with that confidence, a question lingered at the back of his mind. What would the Gilt Rats do next? Another direct attack on the department store seemed unlikely. After how badly their last attempts had gone, repeating the same mistake would be foolish, even for them.
Unless they planned to escalate.
Max considered the possibility that they might send people equipped with exoskeletons next time, mercenaries meant to end things quickly and decisively. If that happened, Max wasn’t particularly worried. More advanced equipment meant more resources for the group. He knew there were members of the Billion Bloodline who would benefit greatly from dismantling and repurposing that kind of technology.
When Max returned to the department store with the others, however, the atmosphere was far from what he expected.
There was no tension.
No panic.
No sign of an incoming attack.
The warehouse was quiet. Too quiet. The same was true for the other locations they were guarding. There were no suspicious vehicles, no lurking figures, no sense of imminent danger.
Wolf had been making his rounds, checking in with each person individually, and eventually he sought Max out.
"Hey Max, I don’t think anyone’s coming to attack today," Wolf said, his expression serious.
"Huh?" Max replied, raising an eyebrow. "What makes you say that? And honestly, judging by your face, if you’re sure about it, shouldn’t we be happy? Getting paid without getting hurt or exhausted sounds like a win to me."
"Well... about that," Wolf said slowly. "They’re hitting us harder than I expected. Just not the way we thought they would. I think you should see this."
The two of them walked through the department store together, and Max couldn’t quite tell what Wolf was trying to show him at first. Everything looked normal on the surface. Customers were moving about, staff were working, and there was no sign of violence or disruption.
That changed when Wolf led him to a man wearing a neat suit, holding a tablet in his hand. Several staff members stood nearby, all of them visibly tense.
"Tch, tch," the man said as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "So many violations. It’s honestly impressive how this place hasn’t already been shut down."
His fingers moved rapidly across the tablet as he continued.
"I’ll have to report every single one of these. If they’re not fixed to the required standards within the allotted time frame, the fines will be... substantial."
Max frowned as he watched the scene unfold.
"Oh, he’s a safety inspector," Max muttered. Then his eyes narrowed. "Wait. You’re not telling me he’s here because of the Gilt Rats."
"It’s not just him," Wolf replied quietly. "There are food inspectors, mystery shoppers writing reports, people checking the foundation of the building, even inspectors looking at electrical wiring and fire safety systems."
Wolf let out a long breath.
"Every single one of them has found a problem."
The moment those words left Wolf’s mouth, Max understood exactly what was happening.
He’d used these same tactics himself in the past.
This was the true power of a syndicate that knew how to operate behind the scenes. When brute force failed, they turned to influence. They slipped money into the right pockets, pulled the right strings, and weaponised bureaucracy itself.
The department store would be fined for everything imaginable. Safety violations, hygiene concerns, structural weaknesses — even issues that didn’t truly exist would suddenly become urgent problems that needed immediate attention. Repairs would be ordered. Renovations demanded. Entire sections of the store forced to shut down until further notice.
Costs would pile up quickly. Revenue would drop. Customers would lose confidence.
Even if the store survived, it would be drained dry in the process.
This was a slow, calculated method of destruction, one that didn’t require a single punch to be thrown.
Max clenched his jaw, his mind already racing through countermeasures.
"How are we supposed to fight against this?"