The auction hall was abuzz with anticipation, the tension could be felt as the first item of the evening was revealed. From Room A, a shadowy figure watched intently, their presence barely noticeable behind the opaque glass. In Room C, another cloaked figure peered through the transparent barrier, their gaze fixed on the auction floor below. Room B, reserved for the patriarch of the Wales family, was where the real action seemed to be unfolding.As the first item was wheeled onto the stage, the crowd's murmur grew into excited whispers. It was a lavishly decorated antique clock, its golden frame encrusted with jewels. The auctioneer, with a radiant flair, began the bidding."Opening bid for this exquisite timepiece is set at one million dollars," he announced, his voice echoing through the hall.In Room B, the patriarch of the Wales family, a tall, imposing man with a steely gaze, watched the proceedings. His guards, dressed in sharp suits, flanked him closely."Ten million," the patr
As the auctioneer stepped back up to the podium, his voice amplified and echoed through the grand hall. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, with a sly smile on his lips, "we now come to the final item of the evening, a treasure of unparalleled significance, as I had earlier said. Hidden away by none other than the God of War himself, the Monarch of Death." A murmur swept through the crowd, almost instantly. In Room D, Zen’s eyes narrowed, and his posture straightened. Sinclair, standing beside him, leaned in closer, his voice was nearly a whisper. “Chief, is this what I think it is? The box—what’s inside it?”Zen remained silent, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed on the auctioneer. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “How did they find the box? It was hidden away so carefully, so many years ago,” Zen thought to himself.The auctioneer raised his hand, signaling for silence. "The bidding will start at one hundred million dollars."A hush fell over the room. For a moment, ther
Back in Room D, Sinclair stood behind Zen, as they both watched the hall. “So, Chief,” he said, his tone was light but his eyes serious, “what’s the plan now? You’ve got the box. What are you going to do with it?” Zen didn’t answer right away. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze distant. “First,” he said slowly, “we find out who leaked the box and how they managed to get it here. Then…we deal with them.” Sinclair nodded, his smile fading. He knew better than to press Zen for more details. The man had a way of revealing only what he wanted, and Sinclair had learned long ago to trust his instincts. As the crowd began to disperse, the energy in the room slowly settled back into a steady hum, Zen’s thoughts were already turning to the next move. After the auction concluded, the hall slowly began to empty. Zen and Sinclair made their way downstairs, the opulence of the venue was very much evident in every marble pillar and crystal chandelier. Their steps echoe
Zen and Sinclair got into a private room just off the main hall. The room was sparsely furnished, with a single table and two chairs under the dim glow of a chandelier. The thick wooden door clicked shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the ongoing auction outside. As Sinclair placed the chest on the table, Zen pulled off his gloves and flexed his fingers, his gaze locked on the box. “Well,” Sinclair said, a hint of anticipation in his voice, “Let’s see what’s inside this thing that was worth twenty billion.”Zen smirked, leaning forward as he slowly unlatched the chest. The hinges creaked softly as the lid lifted, revealing a dark, empty interior. Sinclair stared at the empty space, his mouth agape. “What the hell? It’s empty!”Zen chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course, it’s empty. It would only be empty if someone had already gotten to it first.”Sinclair stumbled back, his face pale. “Twenty billion, Chief! You just spent twenty billion on an empty box! Do you think the aucti
They barely made it a few steps before bumping into a woman in a sharp, tailored suit. She was standing right in their path, her posture rigid, her face obscured by a sleek mask with gold detailing. Sinclair was quick to speak. "Hey, move it," he snapped, a hint of irritation in his voice.But Zen raised a hand, followed by a smirk playing at his lips as he recognized the poised figure before them. "You're quite the superstar these days, Keisha. I hardly see you anymore."Keisha removed her mask with a practiced grace, revealing a calm, composed expression that seemed almost serene amidst the chaos of the auction. Her lips curled into a slight smile. "Well, when my boss decides that blowing twenty billion on a chest is his idea of fun, I have to stay busy."Sinclair’s eyes widened in surprise. "Keisha!" he exclaimed, realizing who she was. He didn’t expect to see her there, let alone hear her speak so casually about the staggering sum Zen had just spent.Zen chuckled softly, unfazed.
The soft hum of the car engine was drowned out by the news blaring from the radio. “Breaking news from Fairy Island: the Albrecht family has recorded their highest surge in income in a single day—twenty billion dollars.” Zen leaned forward and switched off the radio with a flick of his wrist, his expression unreadable as he took of his mask. “No mention of the auction hall,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to Sinclair, who was seated next to him, a thoughtful look on his face. “Why wasn’t the auction mentioned? They made it sound like it came from nowhere.”Sinclair shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “These sorts of things, the general public doesn’t need that kind of information. The allure of Fairy Island is its mystery. People are drawn to it because it’s like a dream—a place where anything can happen. Keeping details under wraps keeps that dream alive for 90% of the citizens.”Zen nodded, his fingers drumming lightly against his knee. “I suppose you’r
“Keisha!” Zen’s voice sliced through the room with a commanding tone.Keisha turned swiftly, her usually calm expression attentive. “Yes, Chief?”Zen took a slow step towards her, his eyes fixed with a calculating stare. “I need you to respond to Malia. Tell her we’re willing to lend her the money she needs for ‘Operation: Sky City’ but on one condition.”Keisha raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “What’s the condition?” she asked, curiosity lacing her tone.Zen’s lips curled into a sly smile. “We’ll tell her that we’ll start reclaiming our loan from the profits generated by the city they’ll build. It sounds beneficial, right? Like a fair deal.”Sinclair, sitting nearby, leaned forward, his interest piqued. “That does sound fair. What’s the catch?”Zen’s smile widened, the devious glint in his eyes becoming more pronounced. “The loophole is this: the contract will specify ‘profits from when they build the city.’ But we won’t wait until it’s completed. We’ll start demanding
Zen watched through a narrow opening in the door as the other interns buzzed around the ward. They were all busy with their tasks, some carefully preparing tinctures, while others mixed herbs. There was an air of quiet concentration, interrupted only by the occasional clatter of a jar or the muttered instructions of a more experienced nurse. He observed them for a moment longer, then turned his attention back to Tasha as they finished up their own tasks.Tasha glanced at Zen, noticing his gaze drifting towards the other interns. "Want me to introduce you to the others?" she asked, gesturing toward the group.Zen shook his head, his expression indifferent. “No need. I don’t want to bother myself with remembering names.”One of the interns overheard and looked up, scoffing. “He sounds like a rich kid.”Another intern, without looking up from his work, added, “Yeah, that’s how they all are. Snobbish.”Zen’s lips curled into a faint smile, finding their assumptions amusing. He wasn’t offe
The room hung in stunned silence, the air thick with disbelief. Yaya remained on his knees, his voice breaking as he groveled toward Zen. His head bowed so low it seemed he might sink into the marble floor. “Please, I’ll do anything!” Yaya’s words poured out like a flood, his hands trembling as they gripped the floor beneath him. “Just—just call them back. Restore my distribution channels. I can fix this! I’ll pay whatever you want!” Jun stared at his father, horror and confusion warring on his face. His voice came out sharp, cutting through the murmurs beginning to rise around the room. “Dad! What are you doing?” Jun took a step closer, grabbing Yaya by the arm. “Get up! Why are you kneeling to him?” Yaya barely turned, his eyes wild with desperation. “Let go of me, Jun! You don’t understand what’s happening here!” “I don’t understand?” Jun’s voice cracked as his confusion turned to anger. “You’re humiliating yourself! Him? He’s nothing! A useless son—” *SMACK!* Yaya’s ha
Zen's gaze remained steady as the man took another step closer, the condescension dripping from his tone. “Hey! Look!” Someone echoed. “That’s Mr. Yaya. Jun’s father. What’s he doing here?” Another voice echoed. “Do you even understand the weight of the people in this room, Tom?” Yaya’s voice was loud enough to draw more eyes to their corner. “Men who have built empires, shaped industries, and created legacies. And then there’s you—scraping by, pretending to fit into a world you clearly don’t belong to.” Rosalia, her frustration evident, stepped forward again. “Mr. Yaya, this is getting out of hand. You have no right—” “Stay out of it, Mrs. Rosalia,” Yaya snapped, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t understand the stakes here. This is about respect, and this boy has none.” Jun smirked as he pushed his uncle’s hands off himself, crossing his arms as he looked Zen up and down. “He doesn’t just lack respect, Father—he lacks everything. Power, influence, wealth. What does he have? A
Zen turned slowly, his eyes locking onto the man who had called out. His tone was sharp and mocking, cutting through the air like a whip. The man was tall, his stance brimming with arrogance as he squared his shoulders and stepped forward. Rosalia’s smile faltered, and she instinctively stood from her chair. “Jun, what are you doing?” Jun ignored her, his eyes focused entirely on Zen. “I’m asking what right he has to be sitting here with you.” Zen’s expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his gaze. He stayed calm, leaning slightly on the back of the chair he’d just pulled out for Rosalia. “And who are you to decide that?” Jun scoffed, his lips twisting into a bitter smile. “Who am I? That’s rich coming from someone like you. Do you even know where you are? Do you have any idea the kind of people in this room?” “I’m well aware,” Zen said evenly, his voice low but commanding. “Now, why don’t you explain why this concerns you?” Jun’s hand clenched i
Zen turned slightly, scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on Rosalia, who stood a few feet away, her soft smile aimed directly at him. She looked stunning, her emerald-green gown flowing gracefully as she approached him. "Tom," she said, her voice warm and teasing, "I thought I’d never get through that sea of people to find you." “Rosalia,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” She gave a small laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You could say that, though I don’t think ‘enjoying’ is the right word. Awkwardly surviving? Maybe.” Zen arched a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Awkward, huh? What’s awkward about mingling with a bunch of over-dressed people waiting to make power plays?” Rosalia rolled her eyes, stepping closer. “You’re forgetting the forced smiles, empty compliments, and the undercurrent of judgment in every conversation. It’s exhausting.” Zen chuckled softly, tilting his head
On the day of the gala, the Albrecht Estate was alive with energy. Cars lined up in a procession at the gates, with chauffeurs stepping out to open doors for the city’s elite. Inside the sprawling ballroom, the hum of conversation was only interrupted by the occasional clink of glasses or bursts of laughter. Waiters moved swiftly through the crowd, trays balanced, while the soft melody of a live quartet filled the air.Zen’s car pulled into the driveway, sleek and understated compared to the flashy limousines that preceded it. As he stepped out, two young attendants rushed forward. “Mr. Diel,” one said, bowing slightly. “Welcome to the gala. Let us guide you inside.” Zen adjusted his cuffs and gave a curt nod. “Lead the way.” The attendants escorted him through the grand entrance, where the doors opened to reveal the glittering scene inside. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume and polished wood, every detail carefully curated to impress. Zen’s gaze scanned the room
Zen’s eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft morning light spilling through the window. He turned his head and spotted Keisha, sitting across the room with her arms folded, watching him with a casual smile. Her presence caught him off guard.“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said with a smirk.Zen blinked, then let out a sigh, rolling onto his back. “I overslept,” he muttered, a bit annoyed with himself. “Not like me at all.”Keisha raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Even the mighty Zen has his off days, it seems.”Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, then looked at her with suspicion. “How did you get in here? I lock my doors every night.”She held up a shiny key, dangling it between her fingers with a playful grin. “Spare key. Thought you’d remember I keep one.”Zen sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Of course you do.” He ran a hand through his hair, then fixed her with a curious stare. “Since you’re here, Keisha… explain your schedule to me.”Keisha blinked, clearly t
The night was cool and crisp as Zen stepped onto the deck of his yacht, taking in the gentle sway of the water beneath him. The lights from the city reflected off the waves, casting shimmering patterns on the boat. Just ahead, leaning against the railing with a glass in hand, Sinclair turned, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted Zen approaching. “Thought you’d never make it,” Sinclair teased, raising his glass in greeting. Zen smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Didn’t want to keep you waiting too long.” He looked around, taking in the luxurious setup. “But tell me, when are you finally going to get your own yacht, Sinclair? This ‘borrowing’ act is getting old.” Sinclair laughed, an easy, carefree sound. “Who says I don’t have my own?” he replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. “In fact, I have more yachts than a three-year-old can count. I just happen to like *this* one the best.” Zen raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “So, you’re telling
Zen’s gaze locked onto Silas, his expression calm but his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. “So, this is how you like to handle things? Thought you’d finally stand up to someone, Silas?”Silas sneered, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. “You think you’re something cause you managed to pull a fast on me with pure luck—”Zen’s smirk widened. “I think we both know luck had nothing to do with it.” He took a step closer, hands relaxed at his sides, his presence radiating an authority that made everyone in the room hold their breath.“Stay back,” Silas snapped, his voice wavering as he tried to maintain his composure.Zen chuckled softly. “Oh, now you’re worried?”Silas glared, but his posture had shifted, more defensive than before. He glanced around, seeking support, but the others kept their eyes on the floor, unwilling to meet Zen’s gaze.“I don’t have time to play with you, Silas,” Zen murmured, his tone almost bored. “But maybe a quick reminder wouldn’t hurt.”He mov
“Tom!” Nia called out, drawing his attention, her voice sounding urgent. She didn’t even glance at Rosalia, who was standing beside him, her eyes fixed solely on Zen.Zen looked up, surprised to see her approaching. “Nia?” he asked, standing as she reached their table. “What happened?”Nia huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she tilted her head, clearly savoring the moment to vent. “You won’t believe what just happened,” she began, her tone laced with annoyance as she jerked her thumb back toward a waiter who was lingering nervously by the kitchen entrance, clearly aware he was in trouble. “That waiter back there? He decided to make a judgment call on my financial status. Apparently, my card didn’t go through, and he assumed I couldn’t pay.” She paused, letting out a short, sarcastic laugh. “He even suggested I… ‘pay’ another way. Like I’d be desperate enough to trade favors for dinner.”Zen’s face shifted from mild surprise to something much darker, his jaw tightening as he