Veiler Against The Board

As the system completed its initialization, the Veiler felt a tangible shift in the room. His awakened Dark Charm made subtle ripples—an alluring yet predatory energy radiating from him. The women present seemed to falter, their gazes lingering, while hidden fears and veiled desires betrayed others' facades.

The Veil Meter revealed fake smiles and concealed schemes that Justin might've missed before. His Lust, spiking with each fleeting glance, was almost overwhelming, yet it was counterbalanced by a stark realization—his Love stat, already empty, had taken its toll. The absence of genuine warmth left him colder, his expression hardening into indifference.

Then, his lips curved into a calculated, manipulative smile, sending shivers through the board members. In their eyes, he had shifted from an 18-year-old struggling heir to something far more dangerous—a predator in a finely tailored suit.

Justin's gaze swept across the room, landing on each of them one by one, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement as they kept their hands raised in that silent vote against him. Eight. Eight people out of twelve had the audacity to think they could take him down like this.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, and then—he chuckled. Just a low, soft sound at first, but it carried through the room like a slap.

"Scandals, huh?" he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. "That's what we're doing now? You're really coming at me with that? That's your big play? Pathetic!" He leaned back, his confidence radiating as he gestured lazily at them. "Y'all gotta do better than this. I mean, really, this is the angle you're gonna use to say I'm not fit to run the agency? Scandals? You gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

His voice carried a casual mockery that made a few of them glance at each other.

"Let's get one thing straight—you don't sit at this table without dirty laundry, and we all fucking know it. You wanna talk about scandals? Be real with yourselves for once. This agency—this whole damn machine—is a goddamn ticking time bomb. Y'all seriously acting like Black Veil runs on rainbows and charity drives? We've got skeletons in closets and mass graves, and you're gonna sit there and pin me for scandals? But sure, blame me for the smoke when the whole building's been on fire for years."

His smile sharpened, more teeth than warmth now. "Okay, fine. Let's play this game. Say I step down. Who's next? Which one of you righteous-eight-ass saints thinks they're squeaky clean enough to run this ship? Hmm? Anyone?" His voice dropped an octave, almost a whisper, but it still cut deep. "I ask again, Which one of you thinks you're clean enough—hell, righteous enough—to sit in this chair and keep the skeletons in the closet from spilling out? Anyone? Nah, didn't think so." The place felt like it was holding it's breath letting him talk like cat got their tongue.

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his voice quiet but sharp enough to slice. "Because here's the truth—you're all just as messy as I am. Probably worse. And the fact that you're trying to come at me with scandals? Man, that's just embarrassing how pathetic, unprepared and desperate y'all are."

The room went silent except for the man who had raised his hand first—the instigator, the one who started this mess. The smug confidence on his face had slipped, replaced by narrowed eyes and a twitch in his jaw. "What the hell are you trying to say, Justin?" the man bit out.

Justin tilted his head, the smirk never leaving his lips. "Oh, you wanna know?" He tapped his temple, his tone almost playful, like he was letting them in on a joke they weren't smart enough to get. "You're all out here questioning me over a few childish fuck-ups from, what, a two or a yeah ago? Sure. I admit it. I was reckless, I made mistakes—big deal. But at least I own my shit."

His eyes locked onto the man now, sharp and unrelenting, like a predator toying with its prey. "But what about you, huh? Should we start peeling back those layers, Frank?" The name rolled off his tongue like a blade, and you could see the blood drain from the man's face. Justin's grin widened, pure menace wrapped in charm. "Because I've got all day and night, and trust me, this could get real interesting."

Justin leaned back, his arms crossing lazily over his chest as his smirk widened, oozing cocky amusement. "Let's say I hand you the agency," he said, his tone casual but laced with venom. "What happens when your skeletons come tumbling out? You really think this place wouldn't burn faster than a cheap gas station firework? Or do you believe your shit's buried so deep no one could ever dig it up? Because trust me, there are phantoms out there who'd tear through those voids like it's a damn buffet."

The man who had raised his hand first—Frank, of course, the loudest voice against him—shuffled awkwardly in his seat. He let out a forced laugh, the kind that tried to sound confident but only came off as shaky. "I don't have any scandals, Justin," Frank said, his voice a little too high-pitched. "And if this is your idea of intimidation, it's not gonna work. You can't just throw baseless threats at me."

"Intimidate? Threaten?" Justin raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a low chuckle. "Yeah, Frank, I'm doing exactly that. But over nothing? Come on now." He leaned forward, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. "Or should I remind you of July 17th?"

Frank froze, his face draining of color. "I… I don't… I have no idea what you're talking about," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, really?" Justin laughed again, louder this time, the sound echoing in the tense silence of the boardroom. "Alright then, let me help you kick-start that rusty memory of yours." He leaned back, his voice casual again, like he was talking about the weather. "July 17th—you remember now? You got wasted at some private club, hopped up on God-knows-what, and ended up in bed with an underage girl. Seventeen, wasn't she? But don't worry I won't judge you, man's gotta satisfy his fetish and good for you—you cleared it all up the next morning when you paid her off to keep her mouth shut. That ringing any bells, Frank?"

The room was dead silent. Frank looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and die. "T-That's not true," he stammered, shaking his head. "You're lying—"

"Oh, but am I now?" Justin interrupted, his tone sharper now, cutting Frank's denial clean in half. "What about August 5th? Should I refresh your memory on that, too? Your little affair with Kane's wife?"