"Good night, Father. I'll make sure to review all the documents tonight," Greg bid his father farewell with a nod. "Hmmm..." And with that, Greg stepped out of his father's study, clutching a stack of documents in a brownish map. As he walked down the Von Ritcher’s corridor, Greg couldn’t help but replay his father’s words in his mind: "You can start from tomorrow… I want you to begin with Behav Company which is located in Struggl City. Do you still remember Behav, right?" A crooked smile tugged at the corner of Greg's lips as he remembered it. Well, of course… Of course, Greg remembers Behav. How could he ever forget the place where his father made him out from Von Ritcher, and even accused him of crimes that he didn’t commit? Behav Company, a pharmaceutical subsidiary of Von Ritcher Industries, was where Greg had once worked alongside his stepbrother, Griffin. Griffin held the title of an executive, while Greg was just an assistant, overshadowed and underappreciated. Although G

TING! "Attention all passengers, the gate for flight T1RE8 to Struggl City is now open. We kindly ask all passengers to proceed to the gate for boarding. Thank you." The announcement echoed through the bustling airport terminal, catching the attention of passengers who were waiting to board their flights. Greg and Dylan, along with the other travelers, promptly made their way toward the front gate in anticipation of their departure to Struggl City. Navigating through the crowd, Greg kept a composed demeanor, his strides purposeful while Dylan, on the other hand, seemed slightly annoyed by the prospect of the upcoming flight. As they settled into their seats, Dylan's frustration with the domestic flight process became palpable. "Man, I thought I was going to die out there. Did you see the lines at the security check? It was like a never-ending nightmare," Dylan lamented, rubbing his temples before looking at his boarding pass. “And seriously? UglyPlane 2000? Why on earth did they c

The luxurious BMW sedan smoothly navigated the winding roads that led to the outskirts of the remote town. Greg and Dylan sat in the back seat, the leather upholstery enveloping them in comfort. The innkeeper, Jason, gripped the steering wheel with practiced ease, his eyes focused on the road ahead. The purr of the engine was a calming backdrop to their conversation. "Haha, the signal is pretty bad here, huh? Well, you’re lucky that I need to use my phone too, so you can go to the nearby woods with me," Jason chuckled, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "It might be tough for you city people to be stuck in here! Well, it’s not like you have other options besides my inn; it's the only one that's open, haha!" Dylan grinned in response. "Oh, don't worry about us. I think it's actually good to take a break from our tech addiction once in a while. Besides, staying here isn't so bad. Your inn is pretty cozy." Jason laughed heartily. "Ahh, you’re too kind! I’m glad you’re enjoyin

—The Next Morning—The sun's gentle rays filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room where Greg and Dylan stood, bags packed and ready for checkout. Greg meticulously checked his belongings, ensuring that nothing was left behind.“Hey, Dylan,” Greg's voice rang out, breaking the quiet stillness of the room. “You didn’t forget anything, did you?”Dylan's response was casual, a confident zip of his bag accompanied by a shake of his head. “Nope. I think I already packed everything. I didn’t really bring anything except clothes and cigarettes,” he said.With their bags in tow, Greg and Dylan made their way out of their room, stepping into the inn's hallway. The soft sounds of their footsteps filled the corridor as they embarked on the process of officially checking out from the Bluebell Inn.As they walked, their path converged with one of the inn's servants. A warm and welcoming smile graces her lips as she greets them."Leaving already?" the servant inquired, her to

Hours passed, and the luxury sedan glided to a halt at the airport. The sleek vehicle's soft hum dissipated as Bradley, his assistant, Greg, and Dylan emerged onto the tarmac. Bradley's composed voice cut through the air, resonating with authority and respect as he addressed Greg, "Mr. Von Ritcher, kindly await here momentarily. I shall oversee the arrangements for your flight." Greg met Bradley's gaze with a nod of understanding. "Thank you, Bradley. I value your assistance." With those words, Bradley and his assistant strolled toward the waiting private jet, leaving Greg and Dylan in the midst of the bustling airport. After Bradley left, Greg's mind, which still buzzed with the 'F' symbol immediately seized the opportunity, and discreetly snapped a photo of the cross with the 'F' keychain hanging in the car. Swiftly, he forwarded the image to his subordinate, along with a terse message instructing them to delve into its significance. Meanwhile, Dylan's gaze flickered between Greg