The Rise of the Humiliated Son-in-Law

Call Me a Fool!

Gaston stepped closer to them. “I don’t want to interfere, but I think your fight is unfair,” he said, his eyes glaring at the attackers. He noticed the man lying on the ground was getting weaker, blood flowing from his wounds, and pain evident on his face.

The attackers exchanged glances, clearly not pleased with Gaston’s audacity. “You want to butt in? We’ll make you regret it!” one of them threatened, his voice dripping with mockery.

Gaston sighed, realizing the situation could escalate. However, he wasn’t backing down. He knew there was strength within him that he could tap into. Steadily, he raised his hands and prepared to face them.

One by one, they charged. The first man stepped forward, swinging his fist toward Gaston’s face. With quick reflexes, Gaston dodged and struck the attacker’s stomach rapidly. The man stumbled back, shocked by the unexpected speed of Gaston’s counter.

“He’s fast!” one of them shouted, and the others appeared to hesitate.

But there was no time for doubt. Two other attackers moved in together, one from the left and the other from the right. Gaston calmly positioned himself, dodging the attack from the left while grabbing the wrist of the attacker on the right, twisting it forcefully and sending him crashing to the ground.

“This is just the beginning,” he said casually, a faint smile crossing his face. The man who had been assaulted earlier lay on the ground, watching in awe as Gaston handled them so effortlessly. He had never seen anyone act so boldly.

The remaining two attackers looked increasingly furious and launched simultaneous attacks. One tried to kick Gaston in the stomach while the other swung a baton toward his head. Gaston nimbly jumped to the side, avoiding the kick and grabbing the baton as it came toward him. With a swift motion, he pulled it back and swung it at both attackers.

The two men fell, their faces reflecting fear and desperation. “Enough!” one of them yelled, but Gaston didn’t give them a chance to retreat. 

“Not done yet!” he said, redirecting their attention to attack again. In an instant, he leaped toward the last attacker, easily dodging their strikes, and with one swift motion, he brought the man crashing to the ground.

After several minutes that felt like an endless fight, the attackers began to run out of energy. They were cornered and powerless, their faces clearly showing fear. “Please! We beg for mercy!” one of them whimpered, his face pale and breathing ragged.

Gaston, calm and relaxed, looked at them. “You really don’t deserve mercy after what you’ve done, but… I’ll give it to you,” he said, a hint of mockery in his expression.

The attackers, still pressed, quickly scrambled to their feet and fled, though their faces still held traces of resentment. “We’ll be back!” one of them shouted a threat before disappearing from sight.

Gaston turned his attention back to the man lying on the ground. The man crawled toward him, moving slowly and in obvious pain. “Wait…” he tried to speak, but before he could finish his sentence, he passed out right there.

Gaston quickly knelt down, concerned as he checked on the man. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, but there was no response. “You shouldn’t be passing out here; it’s going to be a hassle for me!”

Given the dire situation, Gaston lifted him up.

A few hours later, the man who had been near death, Damian, slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, but as time passed, he began to realize that he was in a small, simple clinic. The walls were white, and the scent of antiseptic filled the air. He felt a sharp pain throughout his body, especially in his stomach and face.

As he tried to move, Gaston, sitting beside the bed, noticed that Damian was awake. “Open your eyes wide and focus on what I’m saying,” Gaston said in a serious yet gentle tone. “You’re in a clinic, and you’re safe.” 

Damian looked at him in confusion, still trying to piece together his memories. “What happened?” he asked weakly.

“You were attacked. I brought you here,” Gaston replied. “But I had to stay in this clinic for three hours because I didn’t have any money to pay for your treatment.”

The man felt guilty. “I… I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. The expression on his face showed deep regret.

Gaston shook his head. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that you’re safe. But I have to go now. You’ll need to pay this bill later.”

Damian weakly grabbed Gaston’s arm, his eyes pleading. “Wait… my name is Damian Wagner,” he said, as if hoping that would make Gaston care more.

Gaston furrowed his brow, as if he recognized the name. However, he quickly brushed it off. “I’m Gaston,” he replied curtly, trying not to get caught up in a deeper conversation.

“Thank you, Gaston. I want to repay your help,” Damian said, his voice filled with hope even though he was very weak.

Gaston shook his head again. “Forget about it. What matters is that you’re okay now.”

“No, I can’t,” Damian insisted, his voice trembling. “I’ll feel indebted to you if you don’t ask for something in return.”

Gaston looked at him doubtfully. “If that’s what you want, fine. I only have one request.”

“What is it? Just say it!” Damian promised to repay the favor.

“You need to keep it a secret that I helped you,” Gaston said. “The next time we meet, you have to treat me like a fool!”

Damian was taken aback and confused by that statement. “What do you… mean?” he asked, bewilderment clear on his face.