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 light on Zen’s phone blinked, pulling him back to reality. He picked it up and answered with a quiet, “Yeah?” Keisha’s voice came through, slightly muffled. “Malia has eaten the bait.” Zen's lips curled into a sly smile. “Perfect,” he replied coolly. “Thanks, Keisha.” Without another word, he hung up, his smile lingering as he thought about the next steps in his plan. Almost immediately, his phone buzzed again. It was Willow. “Tom, your suit is ready,” she said cheerfully. “You forgot about the big four families’ party tonight, didn’t you?” “Shiiii!” Zen cursed, realizing he’d almost let it slip his mind. “Thanks for the reminder, Willow.” Sensing an opportunity, Willow's tone became teasing. “So... when should I be ready?” she asked, trying to sound casual. Zen chuckled. “Sorry, Willow, but I already have a date for the night.” He could almost hear her pout through the phone.