Today, Aaron was brought along by Lucian to discuss a potential collaboration project.
Compared to the powerful empire under Lucian's control, the partner's corporation was nothing more than a tiny, insignificant name.
Yet Lucian still chose to bring Aaron—so he could witness firsthand just how majestic and merciless the true world of power really was.
The meeting room was set inside one of the most discreet high-end restaurants.
The partner's chairman—Mr. Vernon Yeun—had arrived early, sitting nervously with his hands tightly clenched together.
The moment Lucian and Aaron appeared, the entire atmosphere of the room shifted.
Without a word, simply with his cold gaze and commanding presence, Lucian made Vernon shrink back like a small cat before a wolf.
Aaron sat quietly beside Lucian, attentively observing everything.
Lucian's posture was relaxed yet cold, and even his simplest gestures carried the aura of a man who stood at the summit of the world.
Vernon cautiously pushed a stack of documents across the table to Lucian, forcing a sycophantic smile:
– "Mr. Lucian… what do you think about this project?"
His voice was full of flattery, completely devoid of the arrogance he had shown when facing Raphael just days ago.
Lucian casually flipped through a few pages, his indifferent eyes regarding them as if they were worthless, before he responded blandly:
– "Not bad."
Hearing those two words, Vernon lit up as if he had struck gold, quickly piling on more flattery:
– "If it's been acknowledged by you, then this partnership is bound to be a great success…! I'll give it my absolute best!"
Lucian didn't reply right away.
He closed the file with one hand and leaned back into his chair, his deep eyes staring straight through Vernon, as if he were invisible.
A deadly silence stretched between them, making Vernon sweat profusely from his temples.
Finally, Lucian spoke with cold detachment:
– "I never said we would collaborate."
The words, though gentle, pierced through Vernon like a dagger.
– "Mr. Lucian… what do you mean? Didn't you just say the project wasn't bad?"
He stammered, his face going pale.
Lucian's lips curved slightly—half a smile, half disdain:
– "The project isn't bad… but the one leading it is."
He paused briefly, his voice turning even colder:
– "A man without competence doesn't deserve to step into my world."
Vernon hastily bent over, pleading:
– "Please reconsider! I—I've poured everything into this project! I can make improvements, Mr. Lucian—!"
But Lucian only cast a dispassionate glance at him, like looking at trash screaming beneath his feet.
Without offering a single word of response, he turned to Aaron, his gaze softening just a fraction.
Lucian took Aaron's hand and stood up.
The movement was powerful, yet tender—like shielding him from the filth of this room.
– "A waste of time."
Lucian uttered coldly, before leading Aaron away, leaving Vernon's broken pleas echoing behind them.
Out in the hallway, Aaron looked up at Lucian, his round eyes full of curiosity.
In a small voice, he asked:
– "Lucian… didn't you think the project was good?"
Lucian didn't stop walking.
His voice was calm, light as the night breeze:
– "No need to collaborate with someone who's about to die."
Aaron blinked in surprise, but he understood—if Lucian said so, then the other party's fate was already sealed.
Silently, he continued walking alongside Lucian, a mixture of admiration and unease welling up inside him as he faced the world he was slowly becoming a part of.
—————————————————
The next morning, at Raphael's house.
Sunlight filtered through the glass windows, casting a warm glow over the newspaper Raphael was reading, while Lyra sat nearby, browsing the news on her iPad.
Suddenly, Lyra called out softly:
– "Raphael, look at this."
She turned the iPad screen towards him.
Across the screen, a headline dominated in bold letters:
"Chairman Vernon Yeun Dies Suddenly. Suspected Poisoning."
Raphael frowned slightly, the fingers flipping his newspaper pausing mid-turn.
– "He's dead? What's the cause?"
His voice dropped lower, tinged with both surprise and caution.
Lyra lightly slid her finger across the screen, opening the article wider:
– "It says here… he was poisoned during a meal."
Her voice also carried a clear note of suspicion.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Raphael leaned back slightly, his gaze sinking into the lines of news before him.
He didn't feel regret.
Thinking carefully, the disappearance of someone like Vernon Yeun from the business world could only serve to make it a little less filthy.
And yet… Raphael couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
He murmured:
– "But Vernon… was the type to be excessively cautious. How could he die so easily from being poisoned at a meal?"
Lyra frowned as well, her face unusually serious.
– "Exactly…"
She set the iPad down and folded her arms thoughtfully.
– "If it really was poisoning, then the person who did it must have been extremely sophisticated. Ordinary methods… would never have escaped Vernon's scrutiny."
A silent conjecture flashed through Lyra's mind—
A type of deadly poison, something that could kill even someone as cautious as Vernon without leaving a trace…
– "Manchineel…
The Manchineel tree is one of the most poisonous plants in the world. Its toxins… even just coming into contact with water contaminated by it, or inhaling the vapors from its bark, could cause severe complications. If someone had skillfully extracted and mixed that into food or drink, even someone like Vernon wouldn't have been able to guard against it."
Lyra's lips pressed into a tight line, her gaze sharpening with caution.
But she didn't voice her thought aloud.
Some things… were better kept inside for now.
Only one thing was certain to Lyra:
The one who moved this time was absolutely no ordinary person.
The room was deathly still.
Only the soft rustling of Raphael turning pages could be heard, as he sank deeper into thought about some hidden force quietly stirring behind the scenes.
——————————————————-
At night, inside the large study bathed in the warm glow of golden light.
Lucian was deeply focused on his work, his slender fingers swiftly flipping through thick stacks of documents.
Suddenly, the door burst open without warning.
Lucian only glanced up slightly, showing no sign of surprise.
There was only one person who would dare barge in like that.
Aaron, holding a tablet in his hands, his face brimming with excitement and curiosity, ran straight into the room.
– "Lucian, Lucian!"
He called out softly, hurrying to his side.
– "Chairman Vernon… he's dead!"
Lucian didn't lift his head, only gave a slight nod:
– "Mm, I already told you."
His voice was deep and calm, as if he had known all along.
Aaron frowned in confusion, waving the tablet in front of Lucian:
– "But… I didn't see you do anything?"
Lucian exhaled softly, set his pen down, and wrapped an arm around Aaron, pulling him fully onto his lap.
Turning slightly to face him directly, Lucian's low, magnetic voice brushed against Aaron's ear:
– "Do you think I'm the only one in this world… capable of taking lives?"
Each word was drawn out, laced with an alluring undertone, his warm breath tickling Aaron's ear, causing him to flush and shyly bury his head against Lucian's chest.
Aaron mumbled in thought, then slowly said:
– "Only someone skilled with poison… could kill without leaving a trace…"
Lucian, pleased, curled his lips into a faint smile.
He lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to Aaron's cheek, rewarding his little angel for his rare moment of sharpness.
– "Good. You're starting to understand this world."
With that, Lucian effortlessly lifted Aaron into his arms in one smooth motion and strode out of the study.
– "It's late. Time to sleep."
The lights in the room gradually dimmed.
Outside, the villa was swallowed by the silent night, but the underworld beyond —
its dark tides were only just beginning to stir.
Under Lucian's absolute protection, Aaron lived like a delicate little queen — leisurely savoring a life of peace.
Yet, behind that gentle facade, Lucian was quietly training him — preparing Aaron to survive in this bloody world, in his own unique way.
——————————————————
At noon at the company, soft sunlight filtered through the glass, casting a gentle glow on the figure engrossed in work.
Raphael was still immersed in handling documents, his expression serious. The focused contours of his face exuded calmness and decisiveness — the bearing of a future leader.
A knock sounded at the door, but he didn't look up, only said quietly:
– "Come in."
After receiving permission, the door opened.
Lyra stepped inside, a gentle smile on her lips.
In her hands was a neatly wrapped lunch box.
– "Lyra, what brings you here?" Raphael asked softly, his gaze subtly softening at the sight of her.
– "I got off early for lunch today. I figured you'd end up skipping your meal, so I brought you some food."
Her voice was soft and clear, like a spring breeze.
– "Mm… thank you."
Raphael stood up and walked over to take the lunch box from her hands.
– "It's nothing," Lyra said with a smile.
Her gaze swept lightly over his shirt before frowning slightly:
– "Your shirt's a little crooked. Stay still, let me fix it."
She stepped closer, her right hand gently holding the knot, while her left hand deftly smoothed out the fabric.
In that moment — Raphael stood still, quietly gazing at Lyra.
But deep within his eyes, another figure gradually appeared.
…Faint… like mist…
A young man with soft, loving eyes, carefully adjusting his shirt.
– "Wifey, what are you staring at?"
A warm, deep voice floated through.
Raphael, then still young and a little shy, smiled slightly
– "Your shirt's crooked. Stay still, let me fix it."
Julian — that young man — held the shirt's knot with one hand and skillfully smoothed out the crease with the other.
Close. Natural. Intimately familiar.
A happiness so light, it felt like a dream.
The memory faded.
Returning to the present, Raphael remained standing in front of Lyra.
The corners of his lips unconsciously curved into a faint smile — a smile tinged with wistful longing.
Lyra blinked in surprise and asked:
– "Raphael, what's wrong? Why are you smiling like that?"
He shook his head gently, his distant gaze retracting as he gave a small, strained smile:
– "It's nothing. I'm just hungry… Let's eat."
Lyra smiled too:
– "Then you eat, okay? I've got plans with a friend, so I'll be heading out."
With that, she turned and left, her light footsteps disappearing behind the closing door.
Only Raphael remained in the room.
He sat down, opened the lunch box, and began eating slowly, spoonful by spoonful.
The flavor lingered on his tongue — familiar, yet hazy, as if brushing against a fragment of an old memory.
…Perhaps he had eaten this before.
Or perhaps — it was simply that he missed it too much, and so imagined the taste of the past.
What Raphael didn't know was that
every little movement he made…
was already being watched — closely and carefully.
On the rooftop of the building opposite — a cold breeze swept by, carrying a faint chill.
A small figure wrapped in a windbreaker stood there, silently observing the building across the street through a pair of binoculars.
The lenses captured the image of a man in the office, quietly eating his lunch — each of his movements exuding a faint, lonely aura.
A whispered question slipped from tightly pressed lips:
– "Is it possible… to return to the past?"
Old memories flooded back… hazy…
In a stark white hospital room, cold light washed over the frail, slender body lying on the bed.
The figure was wrapped in bandages, pale skin peeking out beneath the gauze.
The boy stirred slightly, then slowly opened his eyes:
– "Mm…"
A worried voice sounded immediately beside him:
– "You're awake? Do you feel any discomfort?"
The young man sitting by the bed looked at him with eyes full of concern, as if he hadn't left even for a second while the boy was unconscious.
The boy reached up to touch his own face, confusion in his eyes:
– "I… I'm fine.
Who are you?
Did you see my face?"
His voice carried a hint of panic.
The other only smiled gently:
– "Yeah, you've got a beautiful face.
Yesterday, you collapsed into me while walking down the street. You had a lot of injuries, so I brought you to the hospital."
He spoke calmly, warmly, his eyes seeming to smile.
The boy hesitated:
– "So… you saved me?
Thank you.
Is there anything you want me to do to repay you?"
Though polite, there was still a guarded coldness in his gaze.
The other man suddenly laughed — a gentle yet straightforward laugh:
– "Be my wife. I liked you from the moment I first saw you."
The words were light, yet they dropped into the stillness like a stone into a calm lake — sending ripples spreading wide.
The boy on the bed shot up in shock:
– "Are you joking?!
Wife?!
We don't even know each other's names — how could we?"
The man earnestly introduced himself:
– "My name's Raphael, 22 years old.
And you? You look so small; I'd guess you're about 19 or 20?"
His eyes sparkled brightly, patiently waiting.
The boy hesitated for a moment, then slowly replied:
– "My name's Julian. I'm 20."
Though inwardly, Julian thought to himself:
'Actually, I'm three years older than this kid.'
Still, there was no malice in Julian's eyes — only a faint smile, like a ripple across a still pond.
Hearing that, Raphael immediately seized the opportunity:
– "So now we know each other's names, right?
Will you be my wife?"
His gaze burned with eager anticipation, as if at that moment, Julian was his whole world.
Julian slowly shook his head, his face serious:
– "But… there's no love between us.
Without love, there's no happiness."
Raphael was undeterred, his voice steady and sincere:
– "I'll make you love me.
Just trust me."
At that moment, his eyes — so firm and sincere — could have made anyone's heart waver.
The hazy memories gradually faded, giving way to the cold reality.
Back on the rooftop, the small figure still quietly watched through the binoculars.
Across the street, Raphael's silhouette was still blurred under the pale sunlight.
A bitter smile flickered at the corner of the boy's lips.
He whispered, almost to himself:
– "You really did make me fall in love with you…
But… we were never meant to be."
As the words fell, he lowered the binoculars and turned to leave.
His small, slender figure slowly disappeared into the cold wind…
Just like those memories from long ago — fading away with time.
——————————————————
Morning, inside Lucian's vast mansion.
Today, Lucian had left for a business trip, leaving Aaron alone.
Aaron had just woken up, still looking drowsy, his soft hair falling messily on either side of his face. He sluggishly made his way down the stairs, his bare feet stepping onto the cool floor.
The spacious living room was bathed in the soft light of early morning, everything so quiet that even the sound of the wind slipping through the cracks in the doors could be heard.
On the large sofa, a figure — both familiar and unfamiliar — sat leisurely.
That person was calmly sipping a cup of tea, his movements graceful yet exuding an indescribable sense of danger.
Aaron froze for a moment. His still-drowsy eyes immediately sharpened with vigilance. He silently observed the figure for a few seconds, then slowly approached, carefully speaking:
– "Jimson…"
Without lifting his head, the man sitting on the sofa replied indifferently, his voice cold and mysterious like a midnight breeze:
– "Ready for your training?"
His voice carried an invisible pressure, making the surrounding air seem heavier.
Aaron was briefly surprised, but quickly, the corners of his lips lifted into a slight smile.
His eyes lit up — as if accepting a challenge.
EndofChapter14.