I had misjudged him. He wasn't just some rich guy from Liac's capital—his actions, his presence, and the way he carried himself all screamed something else. Something far more dangerous. But I couldn't back down now.
He suddenly leaned back, only to lunge forward again, gripping my clothes tightly and yanking me up. The force sent a sharp tug through my sore body, and I clenched my jaw, refusing to let it show. His grip was firm, unyielding, his fingers digging into the fabric like he wanted to crush the defiance out of me.
"Listen here, kid," his voice dropped, rough and seething, like a low growl before a beast pounces. "The time for asking nicely is over." His breath was hot against my face, tinged with the faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with something metallic—like blood, or maybe just my imagination playing tricks on me.
"Either take your report back, or I'll explain my real job to you."
Most people in my position would be praying for a family member to suddenly barge in, to put an end to whatever was about to unfold. But I wasn't one of them. If anything, I was relieved they weren't here. No distractions. No unnecessary risks.
"Don't make the same mistake that taxi driver did," he warned, his grip tightening for a moment before he let go, letting me slump back slightly. "I don't like getting rid of young guys like yourself."
It was a threat, veiled just enough to pass as a warning. A final chance to comply.
Intimidation is a powerful tool—it can make people crumble under pressure, force them into submission. But it has one major flaw.
It weakens the more you get used to it.
I met his stare, my expression calm, my voice even. "Am I getting threatened?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "Sorry, it's just… these anesthetics are making my brain work slow. Not like I was a bright one to begin with."
I was completely fine. But playing dumb sometimes had its advantages.
He studied me for a moment, his eyes scanning my face like he was trying to read between the lines. Then, he chuckled. "Hmm. Interesting. Your eyes," he murmured. "You're not scared. I can tell."
Oh, but I was. I just knew that showing it here wouldn't do me any favors.
He let out another laugh, this one louder, more amused. "Haha, you see this?" He turned slightly, addressing the two men behind him. "Looks like I'm really getting old. Haha! This lad here is strong, so how about I give him a gift and spare him?"
Neither of his men responded. They didn't even flinch.
He sighed, shaking his head. "...Sigh, I forgot you guys don't talk."
Then, his expression shifted again. The amusement drained from his face, leaving behind something colder, sharper. He just stood there, staring at me, his eyes unreadable.
The air in the room felt heavier, the kind of silence that signaled something bad was about to happen.
I needed to move things forward.
"From the moment you got here, I never intended to decline you," I said finally.
His eyes narrowed, confusion flickering across his face. "Then why the fuck are you making it harder, kid?"
I leaned forward slightly, keeping my tone steady. "Because what you're offering isn't enough. So how about you listen to what I have to say?"
His lips curled into a slow, almost sinister grin. "Sorry, but the negotiation time is over."
I sighed. "I'm not taking your offer. So you can either get rid of me, which will only create more problems for you than—"
Before I could finish, Tom flicked his gaze toward one of his men.
The larger man stepped forward, and I immediately noticed the shift in weight as he adjusted his blazer. My eyes followed the motion, and that's when I saw it.
A gun.
Tucked near his waist, its dark metal surface catching the dim hospital light.
Tom reached for it, sliding his gloved hand over the grip as if he had done it a thousand times before.
The moment stretched, my heartbeat steady but my mind racing.
Firearms were illegal in all of Liac. The only ones who had them were the police and the military.
And yet, here it was. In his hand.
"I don't think you're hearing me," Tom said, his tone still calm, still in control. He tilted the gun slightly, just enough to make sure I saw it clearly.
He was using it as a tool of intimidation. And for most people, it would've worked.
But I wasn't most people.
I analyzed the situation quickly.
First, I had noticed the safety was still on. He hadn't even bothered to switch it off—meaning he assumed I was like most people, unaware of how these things worked.
Second, he was too composed. A man willing to pull the trigger wouldn't be this relaxed, this patient. Not in a hospital, where witnesses and consequences were guaranteed.
This was nothing but a performance.
I exhaled slowly. "You said there's always more than one way to get rid of problems. You're right—there always are. But most of them just create more problems in the end."
I kept my voice calm, unwavering, locking eyes with him.
The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating.
And for the first time, a small seed of doubt planted itself in my mind.
What if I was wrong?
What if he actually planning to get rid of me?
I wasn't in any shape to fight back. The way he was positioned, the distance between us—it all led to one outcome.
Was what I was about to ask really worth risking my life?
The question lingered, clawing at my resolve.
And then, finally, the silence broke.
"It's no use," a deep voice rumbled.
It wasn't Tom.
It was the other man. The one who hadn't moved until now.
He stepped forward slightly, looking at me with what seemed like genuine curiosity. "Not your first time, kid," he said. His voice was deep, authoritative. "Seeing a gun, that is."
Was he testing me?
I kept my expression neutral. "Weapons are illegal. There's no way I could have."
He didn't look convinced. But he didn't press the issue, either. Instead, he simply stepped back into position.
Tom, meanwhile, had lowered the gun slightly, though his grip remained firm. His gaze was still sharp, still assessing.
Then, after a moment, he sighed. "Alright, what are the conditions?"
I glanced at the guard briefly before refocusing on Tom.
He was finally ready to listen.
This was it.
Everything depended on how I played my next move.
People like him only made deals based on cost. If what I asked for was too expensive—if it was easier to get rid of me instead—they wouldn't hesitate.
But I already knew they were going to accept.
Taking a deep breath, I spoke.
"I want you to cover my college loans along with my hospital bills. In exchange, I'll take care of the police case that was filed."
Tom didn't react at first.
He just… stared.
Then, his brow furrowed. "That's all?"
I nodded.
"It might not be a big deal for you," I continued, "but for someone like me, who would have to spend years paying it off after getting a job, those college loans are a massive problem."
He remained silent, so I kept going.
"These loans are just a scam. A way to give middle-class people the illusion that they can move up in the hierarchy, when in reality, they're just being kept in place. The rich stay rich. The powerful stay powerful. And even if you're talented, you still end up on the lower shelf—middle, at best."
The weight of my own words settled in my chest.
"In a world like this, where only a handful of places still function, the ones who run everything decide who rises and who doesn't. And I don't want to be stuck at the bottom."
Tom still said nothing.
Was I not convincing enough?
I took another breath. "The chances of me getting a well-paying job right away are next to none. Even talented people get stuck in low-wage work with ridiculous hours. So the last thing I want is to be buried under a debt that'll take decades to pay off."
I thought about home. About the people who had been crushed under that same weight.
"I have examples of what that life looks like. And I don't want it."
Tom's expression shifted slightly—confusion, maybe even skepticism.
"Hm. Anything else?"
"No." I shook my head. "I don't want to push my luck."
Silence.
Then, suddenly, Tom chuckled.
"Haha… this kid is a weird one."
His previous menace faded, replaced by something amused.
He turned to his guards, but they—once again—remained silent.
Seriously, who's the weird one here?