Duel.

The door was opened by none other than Victor, who had a huge smile on his face. Without asking any questions, he pulled James into a hug as if they were old friends, which only confused James even more.

"Make yourself at home." Victor said with a smile, pushing James inside. The sight before him immediately made it clear that Victor loved to spend money.

The grand entrance hall was decorated with gold ornaments and white marble, resembling a palace.

"You have a beautiful home, Victor. My eyes are dazzled," James laughed.

"Thank you. He replied, leading James to the dining room. 

On the table, gold-plated glasses, flowers, and lavish decorations made James feel like a princess for a moment. However, he quickly came back to his senses when Victor's beautiful wife and daughter appeared.

"James, let me introduce you to my wife, Yena, and my daughter, Penelope."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I must say, Victor, you've truly hit the jackpot," James laughed. "Not only is your wife beautiful, but your daughter is absolutely stunning as well."

"Thank you for the compliment." Yena smiled, while Penelope's expression remained unchanged, making it clear that she had already had enough of all this.

"Well then, let's have a good conversation over a fine meal."

As they sat down, the servants immediately arrived, bringing dish after dish of the finest delicacies and the most expensive drinks available on the market.

As James settled more comfortably, the first question came, and it hit his heart like a rush of adrenaline—this time from Yena.

"May I ask, where did you grow up?" She wiped her mouth. "You know, there's a slight accent in your speech."

James smiled, but the smile was not out of amusement—it was out of nervousness, because he already knew the whole evening was going to be filled with lies, at least from him.

"Well, I'd say I grew up in the Eight District, before the regime change. More specifically, in Odessa."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Yena took a deep breath and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide her surprise.

"Oh my god!" She said, placing her hand over her chest.

"That must have been terrible…" Victor responded, shaking his head.

Only Penelope said something different.

"What was so terrible about it?" She asked, raising her food to her mouth but never breaking eye contact with James.

"Penelope, please behave!" Her mother scolded her, but Penelope held her ground.

"I'm just curious, that's all."

James chuckled, but his gaze was focused intently on Penelope. "Well, to shorten it for you, you had two choices: money or family."

"Mmmhhh, and which one did you choose?" Penelope asked.

"Neither." James took a sip from his glass, his eyes still fixed on Penelope.

"What do you mean by that, if I may ask?" Yena asked.

"It's a long story, and I don't want to—"

"Tell us." Penelope interrupted, almost as if she were demanding the answers.

"Well to understand it I start from the beginning. My father and older brother were both soldiers. One day, my brother came home excited, saying some gang offered him money to transport drugs with the military truck, because it wouldn't stop at the district border or the state border. He came home with passion, claiming he'd make money for our poor family. "

"But my father… my father said no. He was a man of dignity, of honor." He paused, shaking his head. "He said it was blood money and that it would tear us apart and they argued the whole night.

"My father believed in family. In honor. In dignity. Things he thought could stand unbroken against the cruelty of life. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe there's no difference between family and money after all. The world taught me that both are fragile. Both slip through your fingers when you need them most.

He let out a bitter laugh, though it was more a sigh than anything else.

"Because what is family if not a debt you can never repay? A burden you carry, whether you want it or not? Money promises security, but family demands sacrifice. And in this world, sacrifice often feels like a cruel joke. Just another way to drain you dry until there's nothing left but ashes.

"And in the end, both of them disappeared into the same cold darkness at the eastern front leaving nothing behind but their ghosts."

He looked up, meeting the eyes of the others, his voice barely a whisper.

"So… what's the difference?"

"Maybe," Yena began, her eyes meeting his,"the difference is that we keep trying to find it, even when we don't have the answers." She paused, her fingers gently brushing the edge of her glass. "You're right. Family and money, they slip through your fingers. But if we don't keep trying, if we don't hold onto something, what's left? Just the ashes, like you said."

Her voice softened, but there was a resolve behind it. "I don't know if that makes sense... but I think sometimes, even if we don't have the answers, we keep going because it's the only thing we can do."

Victor started nodding to that answer. Meanwhile, Penelope was looking at James as if she were in a blackout—she was thinking deeply.

"Well, your answer is a good one for someone who grew up in the very opposite of the Eighth District—the First District, am I right?" James asked, smirking while drinking some whiskey.

"Yeah, I grew up in Russael."

"From my point of view maybe my father was right, maybe Erik was right. Maybe neither of them was right. All I know is that when you grow up in a place that strips you of everything dignity, respect, even hope you start to believe that everything has a price. Even love. Even family."

Yena's eyes softened as she listened, her voice low but clear as she spoke. She leaned forward slightly, as if trying to make her words sink in.

"Maybe, but it doesn't always have to be that way." Yena started." The world can strip away so much from us, but it can't take everything. Love, family—they might have a price in some places, but there are moments, real moments, when they're priceless. When you find something worth holding on to, even if it's just for a little while, that's where you see the difference."

She paused, her gaze holding his with a quiet intensity. " I think we're all looking for something that isn't about what we've lost, but what we still have. Even if it's just a little piece."

James stared at Yena for a moment, his expression unreadable. Her words seemed to settle around him, like a quiet storm, making him pause longer than he intended. He shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to find the right thing to say.

But in reality he was just thinking of good answers that will make sense even if it's a lie.

"For me, there is no difference. Money is family, and family is money. Both are things that hold power over you, that can abandon you, that leave you hollow when they're gone. But maybe that's all I've ever known, a life where the things you cherish are just as fragile, just as easily lost, as a few pieces of silver slipping through your fingers. And maybe that's why, in the end, I've learned not to hold on too tightly to anything." He looked at Penelope "So answer I chose to chase money, power, the things that buy freedom in a world that's already sold its soul. I chose to become the very thing my father feared. Because when everything else is stripped away, when all the noble words are hollow and empty, it's money that puts food on the table."

Penelope's eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned forward a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"I totally misunderstood who you are," she said, her voice carrying an unexpected edge of amusement. "I thought you were just one of those bribed businessmen or officials Dad often brings here—just another one of them trying to make themselves feel close, trying to act like they belong. But you… you're different. You're not like them."

She paused, studying James with an intensity that made the air between them feel charged.

"So let me ask you this question," Penelope continued, her gaze unyielding. "Who are you?"

"Well, I would say I'm a business partner with your father." He laughed while lifting up his glass and knocking it against Victor's.

But Penelope's expression shifted, her eyes glinting with a sharp, calculating look. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, and the air around her seemed to grow colder.

"My father is the leader of the Circle," she said, her voice dripping with confidence. "If you're close with him, I'm sure you know exactly what that is. Perhaps you're one of his underbosses?" She tilted her head slightly, watching him closely, as if daring him to respond.

The sharp atmosphere was quickly broken when, after Penelope's words, Victor shot up from his seat and spat out his drink onto the table. But before he could speak, James was already talking.

"Don't you think your question is stupid?"

"Did you just call me stupid?" Penelope glared at him.

"No, I said your question was stupid."

"And why would you?" 

James leaned forward slightly. "Well, if you're going to bring up the name 'Circle,' at least get it right. It's not just a name; it has meaning. You see, every member is equal. There's no leader. So, not only did you say something stupid, but you also lied."

He casually took another sip of his whiskey, meeting her gaze steadily.

For the first time in her life, someone had called Penelope stupid. No one had ever dared to before—whether out of respect or, more likely, fear. People feared her father, and by extension, they feared her. She simply couldn't accept it.

She shot up from her seat, her face flushed with fury, and threw a napkin at James..

"I challenge you to an honorable duel!" She shouted, her voice echoing through the lavish dining hall.

Duel? We are in the 21st century. James thought.

"Penelope, sit down!" Victor sprang to his feet, his voice sharp with urgency. "James, I'm sorry—"

"Why should I?!" Penelope snapped, cutting him off. Her glare remained fixed on James. "He disrespected me! He called me stupid and a liar—said I was lying about my father, about you!" She pointed an accusing finger at James before turning her attention to a butler stationed near the door, his posture stiff, his hand resting near his firearm. "Do you accept the duel, or do you die right now?"

A thick silence blanketed the room.

Victor's expression twisted into something that resembled both panic and rage. His daughter had just declared war without even knowing.

James leaned back in his chair, his grin sharp. "How about we flip a coin?" He suggested, his tone dangerously casual.

Victor's eyes widened in shock. "No... Penelope, apologize. Now!"

But before his daughter could respond, Yena spoke up. She clearly didn't grasp the gravity of the situation.

"Let them duel," she said. "Penelope is a champion of fencing—there's no way she would lose. And James would be wearing full protection, right? It's not life or death."

She had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. Indeed It was life and death.

James flicked a coin into the air, the silver glint catching the light as it spun. "Heads or tails?"

Penelope barely hesitated. "Heads! The bet is—"

But the coin had already landed smoothly in James' palm. He turned it over onto the back of his other hand, glanced at it, then smirked.

"It's tails."

Penelope blinked, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "We didn't even discuss the bet—"

James leaned forward slightly, his smirk widening. "Oh, but the bet was already set the moment you agreed." His voice was almost playful, yet laced with something far more dangerous. "And it was your life, darling."

Penelope barely had time to process his words before James' hand moved.

It happened so fast.