Chapter 8

After the nerdy man bid farewell to Craige, he casually handed him a wad of cash, a gesture that, for the first time, made Craige genuinely grateful for money—something his past self would have never cared about, for wealth had always been meaningless to him. Money had never held any real value in his life, as he had lived solely by the blade, his existence shaped by the art of assassination, a skill passed down to him by the only person he had ever considered family: his master, an old man who had seen potential in him, taken him in as an apprentice, and molded him into a weapon. When that old man passed away long ago, leaving him without guidance or purpose beyond the instincts he had been trained to follow, Craige did what he knew best—he kept killing. And he continued killing until the weight of his accumulated wealth made him a billionaire, though none of it ever truly mattered to him, for money had never stirred excitement in his blood the way taking a life did. Yet, at that very moment, holding that small sum in his hands, he felt something unusual—something oddly satisfying—because, for once, it wasn't about the amount but rather about the simple, genuine act of receiving.

Later, Yuan and I stopped by a store, and as I wandered through the aisles in search of a dress for Lory, I found myself stealing a glance at Yuan, who, sensing my gaze, furrowed his brows in silent curiosity. "Why are you just standing there quietly?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "Go pick out some shoes for yourself. I'll buy them." He seemed surprised by my words, hesitating for a moment before I led him toward the shoe section, plucked a pair from the shelf, and handed them to him. "Try these." I watched as he slipped them on, and for some reason, the sight of him wearing them made me smile. Yuan, despite his usual reluctance, helped me pick out a dress for Lory, as well as her favorite foundation and lip tint—small luxuries she cherished.When we reached the cashier, the woman behind the counter raised a brow in amusement at the abundance of girly items before flashing a knowing smile. "Good choice," she remarked with a playful wink, which left me feeling slightly awkward, though I returned the smile nonetheless.Afterward, we headed to a bakery, our last stop before returning home. "Lory loves chocolate cake," I mentioned absentmindedly, my gaze locking onto a perfectly frosted confection in the display case.

"We'll take this one," I decided, pointing at the cake, and without hesitation, Yuan nodded in agreement.As we walked back, a comfortable silence stretched between us until, out of nowhere, Yuan finally spoke. "Why are you still staying with us? After all, we're not really family."His words made me pause for a moment, as even I sometimes questioned the reason myself. Was it because I had nowhere else to go? Or was it something deeper, something I hadn't yet fully understood? I exhaled softly before answering, "Let's just say... I love being with you all. It makes me feel human. For the first time in my life, I feel something real—like I have a reason to exist."Yuan, still unconvinced, scoffed before shaking his head with a small chuckle. "You're wasting your time on us," he muttered. "I don't want to say this, but you're kind of stupid."A laugh escaped my lips, light and genuine. "Yeah, maybe," I admitted, "but to me, living with all this chaos—this unpredictable, messy, ridiculous life with you guys—is the only kind of peace I want. This... this is worth more than money could ever be."Yuan clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"No way. Money is still the best."I would have agreed once. For the longest time, I had believed that money was everything, that it was the ultimate measure of success, that amassing wealth would bring me some kind of satisfaction. But then I made too much of it—so much that nothing felt exciting anymore. The more I spent, the more mundane life became. When you have everything at your fingertips, when there are no struggles, no obstacles, no challenges left to conquer, money becomes meaningless. And when nothing in the world can give you a thrill—nothing except the act of taking a life—that's when you realize what you truly are. That is what I am. A psychopath.

I was taken aback when Yuan suddenly laughed—a sharp, bitter sound that sent a chill down my spine.

"Foolish," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

I frowned but didn't press him for an explanation. We continued walking home, the cool evening air doing little to ease the growing unease in my chest. Something felt off, like a dark cloud looming over us.

As we neared our house, my stomach twisted at the sight of a crowd gathered outside. People stood murmuring among themselves, their faces painted with concern and unease. Yuan didn't hesitate—he bolted toward the entrance, and without a second thought, I followed. My heart pounded, each beat filled with dread.

The moment we stepped inside, my world tilted.

Lory lay sprawled on the floor, his face swollen and bruised, his arms littered with cuts and welts. Blood stained the corner of his lips, and his breathing was ragged. My hands went numb, and the cake and bags I was holding slipped from my grasp, forgotten.

"Lory!" I dropped to my knees beside him, gripping his shoulders. "Who did this to you?! Talk to me!"

His eyes fluttered open, barely able to focus. He tried to speak but winced in pain. That was when I noticed the fresh wounds carved into his skin—a deliberate pattern, like a brand. My stomach churned as I traced the jagged letters etched into his arm.

"ABBYS."

My blood boiled. A fierce rage surged through me, making my vision blur. Those bastards. They were behind this.

I pushed myself up, fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. Yuan stood frozen, silent tears streaming down his face. I grabbed his shoulder, shaking him out of his trance.

"Take Lory to the hospital," I ordered, my voice sharp, unwavering. "I'm going after them."

Yuan's grip tightened around Lory, but he said nothing. He knew there was no stopping me.

I turned on my heel and stormed out of the house, my pulse hammering like war drums in my ears. I didn't need to waste time hunting for clues—I already knew where to start. The underbelly of the city. The casino. That's where the gangs operated, where they drank, gambled, and made deals in the shadows.

When I arrived at the entrance, a burly bouncer stepped in my path, eyeing me up and down.

"Students aren't allowed here—"

Before he could finish, I struck. My fist connected with his throat, cutting his words short. He stumbled back, gasping for air, but I was already past him, making my way inside.

The stench of alcohol, sweat, and cigarette smoke filled the air. The main floor was packed—men shouting over card games, dice clattering on tables, the hum of business dealings and dirty money changing hands. But my eyes were set on one group in particular.

A cluster of men sat in a corner booth, exuding the arrogance of gangsters. Their flashy watches, gold chains, and the way they negotiated told me everything I needed to know. They were my targets.

I strode toward them, shoving aside anyone in my path.

One of them looked up, irritated. "Hey, what the hell do you—AHHHH!"

His scream echoed through the casino as I grabbed his hand and twisted, snapping his finger like a twig. The others jumped up, ready to fight, but I yanked him closer, using him as a shield.

"Where is Abbys?" I demanded, my voice low and deadly.

The man shook his head frantically, sweat beading on his forehead. "I—I don't know what you're talking about! I swear—AHHHH!"

I pressed down harder, feeling his bones grind beneath my grip. His companions lunged at me, but in their panic, they ended up hitting their own man instead. Chaos erupted, fists flying, tables overturning.

"ALL OF YOU, STOP!"

A deep, commanding voice cut through the noise. The gang's leader.

I smirked, keeping my hostage firm in my grasp. "You must be the boss," I mused. "Good. That makes this easier."

He scowled. "I don't know what you think you're doing, kid, but you're making a big mistake."

I leaned in, voice dripping with venom. "Unlucky for you. You're my target.

I kicked his legs out from under him, making him drop to his knees. He glared up at me, but I could see fear creeping into his expression.

"Now," I said, nodding toward one of his men. "You're going to find someone who knows where Abbys is. If you don't… see that gun your friend's holding?" I gave him a dark smile. "The next bullet is going straight through your skull."

The room fell into heavy silence.

And then—

"Fine," the boss growled, spitting blood onto the floor. "I'll get you what you want."