Chapter3

The blinding light of the crystal chandelier pierced my eyes like a sharp blade. I crawled out from beneath the crotch of the last security guard, pressing my mud-stained hands onto the pristine, handmade wool carpet of the banquet hall.

Dirty water dripped from my chin, blooming into glaring black stains on the pure white rug.

The Wall Street elites, who had been clinking glasses just a moment ago, fell silent for a split second. Then, a tidal wave of roaring laughter erupted, almost lifting the magnificent golden dome of the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy tonight's special entertainment." Victor walked through the crowd to the center of the hall, bowing elegantly to his surroundings.

He made a gesture, and a waiter hurried over carrying a solid silver tray. On the tray sat a freshly opened tin of top-tier albino beluga caviar.

Victor picked up a silver spoon, scooped out a spoonful of the priceless caviar, and casually flicked it right in front of me.

Next, he lifted his custom-made leather shoe—which had just stepped through the puddles on the red carpet—and rubbed it hard against the caviar. The mud and motor oil from his sole instantly mixed with the expensive delicacy, turning it into a sickening pile of filth.

"Since you're a dog, you should eat dog food." Victor looked down at me from above, a sickly excitement flashing in his eyes. "Eat it. Lick it clean. Otherwise, your sister is going to have a bloody hole in her neck right now."

My knees sank deep into the carpet. My stomach acid churned, but what raged even harder was the murderous intent violently crashing around in my chest. I stared at the pile of filth, my knuckles popping faintly from extreme tension.

Elena swayed her hips as she walked up to Victor's side. She swirled the goblet in her hand, and the golden champagne poured down.

The ice-cold liquor landed precisely on the wound at my ribs. The high alcohol content stung the torn flesh, sending a piercing, agonizing pain through me.

"Why aren't you eating?" Elena covered her mouth with a coquettish laugh, the tip of her high heel kicking my shoulder again. "Where did that arrogant Commander from back then go? Can't even eat a mouthful of food now?"

The mocking laughter around us grew increasingly grating. Several chaebol heirs holding wine glasses gathered around, pointing at me as if sizing up a beast in a zoo.

"Victor, this dog doesn't look very obedient. Let me help you teach him a lesson."

A blond rich kid reeking of alcohol staggered forward. Laughing loudly, he took a half-step back, drew his right leg into position, and aimed his brand-new leather shoe right at my temple, kicking viciously with a gust of wind.

In that split second, I abruptly raised my head.

The aura of a mountain of corpses, soaked in the battlefields of the Dark Web for five years, was released without reservation in this exact moment. My pupils contracted sharply, and my gaze turned into a materialized, ice-cold blade that pierced straight through the blond kid's eyes.

No movement, only a look. It was the oppressive weight of the Reaper staring into the abyss—a gaze forged from seeing endless blood and reaping thousands of lives.

The rich kid's shoe stopped an inch from my temple, unable to move forward even a fraction more.

His laughter caught in his throat. His eyes instantly glazed over, and the color drained completely from his face. Immediately after, his knees trembled violently, and a stream of warm, yellow liquid flowed down his haute couture trousers, emitting a foul stench on the carpet.

With a thud, his legs gave out, and he collapsed directly into his own waste, making meaningless, terrified gasping sounds from his throat.

The roaring laughter in the hall came to a dead halt. The elites backed away in shock and uncertainty, as if the air around me carried a lethal toxin.

The smugness on Victor's face froze instantly. He looked at the collapsed rich kid, then at my completely deadpan eyes, looking as though he had just been slapped hard across the face in public.

"You little bug, you still dare to bite!"

Fury burned Victor's eyes red. He abruptly reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out a red, miniature remote control, placing his thumb directly on the edge of the detonator button.

"Since you don't want to play along anymore, let's watch the fireworks early!"

The moment he pulled out the detonator, Marcus's anxious voice suddenly crackled through my micro-earpiece, accompanied by the harsh clacking of a keyboard.

"Commander! We have a situation! The bomb's base layer is wired to a military-grade self-destruct firewall. The forced breach got intercepted!"

My heart sank heavily, my eyes locked on Victor's thumb.

"How much longer?" I asked in a barely perceptible whisper from deep in my throat.

"Three minutes! Even with the top-tier algorithms running at full capacity, I need an extra three minutes!" Marcus's voice was strained to the absolute limit.

Three minutes. On a rapidly changing battlefield, three seconds is enough to determine life or death, let alone a torturous three minutes.

Meanwhile, Victor had completely lost his patience. He looked at my suddenly tight jawline, seemingly reclaiming the thrill of total control.

"Game over, you sewer rat."

Victor's mouth curled into a smirk, and with absolute finality, his thumb pressed down hard on the red button.