The old man left.
Time to work.
William surveyed the scene.
Revenge.
Or provocation.
Probably aimed at those men who’d just left.
First time working manually.
It sucked.
Relying on skills was easier.
This was too much work.
Just wrapping the bodies took over an hour.
Cameras were still rolling.
The footage would end up with the High Table.
Leverage for later.
William noted the tattoos on the bodies.
A winged eye emblem.
Cool design.
But the eye’s center was painted red.
A bloody hole.
Strange.
None of his business.
He earned another gold coin today.
Things were looking up.
Looking at the cocoons, William felt more certain.
Stay away from Families.
Look at these kids.
Too young.
What a waste.
Families offered belonging.
Real family.
Your problems were their problems.
Their enemies were yours.
Part of him wanted that.
But that life wasn’t for him.
He’d learned a lot tonight.
Manual cleanup was harder.
Reagents.
Adjustments.
A maze of techniques.
A fellow worker showed him lifting tricks.
How to use leverage.
William tried it.
Game-changer.
The guy knew his stuff.
William immersed himself in the work.
He didn’t notice Anson’s strange stare.
“You’re telling me he’s a complete rookie?” Venus sat in the tea room, confused.
His file said otherwise.
“The movements don’t lie.
He doesn’t know the basics.
But his eyes tell a different story.” Anson answered honestly.
Eyes?
Venus didn’t follow.
“Like he’s seen too many bodies,” Anson continued.
“Everything’s the same to him.
But there’s something off.
Like he’s looking at NPCs.” “…Understood.
Take the day off.
See your daughter.” Anson’s face lit up.
Venus mulled it over.
Was William worth the investment?
Or was he another disaster waiting to happen?
She touched the scar on her back.
Phantom pain flared.
Years ago, she’d learned the hard way.
Everyone who retaliated against that man died.
She survived by swallowing her pride.
Patience bought tomorrow.
William counted his money.
The Continental paid well.
These rich types only cared about gold coins.
William cared about anything with a price tag.
His name faded from the buzz.
Something bigger was brewing.
Two Families at war.
One was a branch of a major dynasty.
Nights turned into war zones.
Kids collected bullet casings in the streets.
William’s workload doubled.
No system missions, though.
Maybe because he wasn’t working alone.
Days resting.
Nights cleaning.
A full week.
The incinerator was working overtime.
Then the mediators arrived.
First day, more bodies.
Second day, silence.
William lay in his bunk.
He remembered the Elder.
His body came in with a scarred man’s.
He didn’t make it.
William was in the break room when Annabelle led a man in a long black coat toward the tea room.
“Rumor is, that guy was seen before the two bosses died,” someone whispered.
The chatter stopped when Anson entered.
“Shut up.
None of our business.” Then Venus, Annabelle, and the coat man walked in.
The coat man glanced at the speaker.
Silence fell.
Only nervous breathing remained.
The man didn’t make a scene.
He just pointed at the freezer.
“Open it.” “Ms.
Venus, why didn’t you report immediately when the conflict started?” This was the real interrogation.
Venus straightened up.
Regal.
Controlled.
“Our communication lines were cut.
And I can’t break the blood oath.
Reporting late wasn’t a choice.” She added a quiet jab.
“That was your rule, wasn’t it?” William turned.
Slipped through the crowd.
Disappeared.
He ran back to his room and grabbed his gear.
The man’s voice followed him down the hall.
“Your oath isn’t the only one.
The High Table—” An hour later, William had five gold coins and a new title.
Temporary captain.
His team: just him.
The others?
He didn’t ask.
He didn’t want to know.