I just stood there, staring at Mabel as she trembled, her head down and face flushed with shame. My body refused to move, not because I was scared, but because my mind simply wasn’t prepared for a situation like this.
My gaze slowly shifted toward the young man.
I had never been around someone so audacious.
My classmates might not have been attractive or dressed in designer brands, but they were decent, considerate people. I didn’t think even a villain like Major Bane would pour a bottle of champagne over the head of someone he’d just met.
Our eyes met.
The young man merely smirked, completely unconcerned, as if what he’d just done were nothing more than a harmless prank. He pointed at me as he turned toward his friends.
"Look at his face. He looks like a terrified hamster about to die from a heart att—"
BAM!
I don’t know what came over me.
Maybe it was the Crispin Cross in me.
Maybe it was simply the sight of Mabel standing there, humiliated while this bastard laughed about it.
Whatever the reason, my fist moved before my brain could catch up.
I drove my fist straight into the young man’s throat. His smug expression vanished instantly.
He staggered backward, both hands flying to his neck as he desperately tried to draw breath. The bottle of bubbly slipped from his hand and shattered beside him, sending glass fragments skittering across the corridor.
Before he could recover, I kicked his shin, making his leg buckle beneath him. As he bent forward in pain, I grabbed his head by the back of his hair and drove my knee into his face.
CRACK!
Blood burst from his nose as he collapsed onto the polished floor. For a moment, nobody moved.
The young man rolled on the floor, clutching his throat and face as he struggled to breathe.
I immediately turned toward his friends.
They were drunk, shocked, and suddenly very quiet. The moment they met my gaze, they instinctively backed away.
I then turned toward the manager, who was still standing there in a daze, glancing at the young man’s ID. I said coldly, "Arthur, throw that trash out. And bring some towels, a change of clothes, and your best Scotch. I need something strong enough to cleanse the filthy aftertaste in my mouth."
The manager hesitated for only a moment before hurriedly nodding.
I turned toward Mabel, who was still soaked in wine, her clothes stained and her hair dripping. I gently placed my hands on her shoulders and guided her toward the Owner’s Private Lounge.
"Let’s get you cleaned up."
Neither of us looked back.
Behind us, Mille Miles remained in the corridor, already dealing with the aftermath and the increasingly nervous club staff.
Standing over the sprawled Julian, Mille Miles glanced toward the back of the man responsible for the mess.
She had come here intending to snag a client with nearly a hundred million denars in investable assets. She hadn’t even managed to get him to sign the paperwork yet, and already she was cleaning up a disaster that even her most troublesome clients wouldn’t have dared to cause.
Hopefully, he had the power to withstand the consequences, or was backed by someone who did. Otherwise, all her efforts would have been for nothing.
Mille wasn’t naive enough to believe that wealth alone could shield someone from the Reinfields family, a branch family of the influential Spawn Summoner Clan. But she wasn’t particularly afraid of them either.
She was a banker representing one of the country’s largest and most influential banks.
If the Reinfields were foolish enough to come looking for trouble with her, the government would have little choice but to back the bank and protect its interests.
Besides, the real question wasn’t whether the Reinfields would dare to cause trouble. It was whether this young man had enough influence to make them regret trying.
"That’s quite a mess you’ve got there."
A familiar voice snapped Mille Miles out of her thoughts.
She turned and immediately greeted the newcomer with a polite smile. "Ma’am Arnar. I see he managed to drag you out of the meeting."
"The little guy is persistent and has a way with words," Arnar replied, glancing toward Lucas, who clearly didn’t appreciate being discussed in that tone.
"Little?! You—"
Lucas nearly exploded, but stopped himself at the last second. He tugged down his blazer, straightened his tie, and composed his expression.
Arnar and Mille both raised their eyebrows, silently waiting for him to finish. Lucas gave them an awkward smile. Then, raising one finger, he slowly wagged it at them, saying, "Not today. You two almost had me."
Seeing that he didn’t dare finish his sentence, Arnar and Mille exchanged amused glances.
Mille then looked toward Julian’s friends and said, "You two go ahead. I’ll join you once I’m done here."
Arnar nodded and started after Mabel and the others. The moment she turned away, Lucas looked down at the sprawled Julian and the anger he’d been holding back finally resurfaced.
"Piece of shit! How dare you humiliate my junior associate!"
He turned toward Julian’s group of friends and the nearby club employees, his voice echoing through the lounge.
"What are you looking at? Clean this shit up before it stinks up the whole club!"
The friends immediately looked away, while the employees hurried to avoid becoming the next target of his temper. Lucas gave the unconscious Julian one last disgusted look before rushing after Arnar.
Mille could only shake her head. She then turned toward the club employees, who were still standing around Julian, clearly unsure whether they should touch him. Their nepo manager was nowhere to be seen.
"For fuck’s sake, take him to the club infirmary already. He’s too out of it to remember either of you."
The employees immediately scrambled into action.
"And remember to take him through the staff entrance," Mille added coldly. "You don’t want word of this getting out."
The employees nodded quickly and began hauling Julian away, doing their best to keep the whole incident as quiet and discreet as possible.