Logan's eyes were not those of a man. They were the predatory orbs of a mountain tiger that had already tasted blood.
He stood perfectly still. Yet the air around him seemed to vibrate with a lethal frequency that made the boutique feel thin and metallic.
The silence in the room was a heavy, physical weight. It pressed against the eardrums of everyone present like the depths of the ocean.
"Young Master, just give the word and I will hack them into a hundred pieces."
Logan's voice didn't just carry through the room. It rumbled deep within the floorboards, a low frequency promise of absolute carnage.
Not a single soul in that store believed he was exaggerating. Logan didn't care for the nuances of civilian morality or legal limits.
To him, the world was binary. There was the Young Master, and there was everything else that deserved to be crushed for inconveniencing him.
He watched the fat man with professional detachment. He was already calculating the most efficient way to disassemble the human body.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a desperate, wet sob. Eva, her face a mask of smeared mascara, lunged away from the fat man's side.
She crawled across the cold marble floor. Her fingernails scratched against the expensive stone as she reached for Max's shoes.
She, who had just spent the last ten minutes mocking him, was now clinging to his legs as if he were a god descended from the heavens.
"Congratulations, Max! You did it! You passed the test!"
Max looked down at her. His expression twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated bewilderment.
He felt as though he were watching a poorly rehearsed play where the lead actress had completely lost her mind.
"I only pretended to leave you! I wanted to see if you would fight for me! You've proven your love, Max! You're the only man for me!"
The fat man, stunned by the sudden betrayal, reached out a trembling hand to grab Eva's shoulder. His face was a sickly shade of grey.
"Eva? What are you saying? We were just..."
She hissed at him like a cornered animal. She slapped his hand away with a violence that shocked the onlookers.
"Get your disgusting, greasy hands off me, you bloated pig! I never loved you! How could I ever love a walking heart attack like you?"
"Max and I have been soulmates since the beginning! He was only seduced by my sister, that pathetic, low life slut!"
"Max, look at me. I'm giving you the greatest gift of your life. I am allowing you to confess your love to me right here. Say it, and I'm yours."
Max didn't even have time to process the audacity before a sound like a gunshot rang out.
The fat man, pushed past the brink by humiliation, delivered a backhand slap that sent Eva spinning across the floor.
The force was so great that her head snapped back. The thick layer of her foundation left a white, ghostly smear across the man's knuckles.
"You treacherous bitch!" the man roared. His voice cracked with a mixture of agony and hatred.
"You've drained a massive amount of money from me for months! You've eaten the finest steaks and worn silks on my dime!"
"And now you think you can just discard me like a used tissue?"
The fat man didn't wait for a response. He descended upon her like a falling mountain. His heavy leather boots thudded into her ribs and stomach.
The sound was sickening. It was a rhythmic, dull thumping of flesh against bone that made the store employees turn away in horror.
Eva's screams were high and sharp at first. They quickly dissolved into wet, gurgling gasps as she curled into a tight ball on the floor.
"Max! Save me!" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.
"If you save me, I'll consider saying yes when you propose. It will be so romantic."
Is she actually insane? Max thought, a chill running down his spine.
Was she born this stupid, or did she have to undergo special training to reach this level of delusion?
If there were a world championship for the most idiotic person on Earth, she would undoubtedly take the gold medal without even trying.
"Oh? Do I even know you?" Max asked. His voice echoed with a cold, hollow indifference.
The fat man stopped his assault, his chest heaving with exertion. He turned toward Max, his face a grotesque mask of pleading.
He sank to his knees. His expensive suit trousers strained against his thighs. He moved his fingers in a slow, revolving circle.
It was a universal sign of a disgusting proposal. He looked up with eyes that were hollow and wet.
"Young Master, please. Look, I have educated this ungrateful whore for you. I have done your dirty work. Can you find it in your heart to be merciful?"
"My daughter, Syl, she is a flower. A masterpiece of beauty. If you want, I can deliver her to your doorstep tonight."
"She can be your secretary, your maid, your plaything. Just please, spare my life!"
"If she isn't enough, my wife! I can give her to you too! Or, if you are interested in men, I can personally serve you myself! I will be your dog!"
Max felt a wave of visceral disgust hit him like a physical blow.
He looked at the man. This was a creature willing to barter the lives and dignity of his own flesh and blood just to breathe for another hour.
This man wasn't a human being. He was a void wrapped in expensive fabric. Max maintained a thin, razor sharp smile.
"Of course, I can forgive you for the insults from earlier. I'm not a petty man."
The fat man's face transformed. A hideous, hopeful grin broke through his tears. He began to press his forehead against the cold marble.
But then, Max's voice dropped an octave, turning into a majestic, terrifying command.
"But I truly despise it when people call me Young in such a filthy, groveling tone. It offends my ears."
"Logan. Don't kill him. Death is too quick, too merciful for a creature like this. I want him to watch his world burn."
"I want him to feel every brick of his empire falling on his head."
Logan bowed his head slightly, a dark glint in his eyes. "As you wish, Young Master."
The legendary mercenary reached into the inner pocket of his blazer and produced a sleek, black smartphone.
He simply tapped a single button. The conversation that followed was short, clinical, and devastating.
The fat man watched from the floor. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Within seconds, the fat man's own phone began to vibrate violently on the floor beside him.
The screen lit up with name after name. Partners, investors, suppliers. The notifications came in a frantic, digital scream.
He reached out a trembling hand and answered the first call.
"We're out! The contract is nullified! We've seen the reports on your embezzlement! Don't ever call this office again!"
The line went dead. The next call was the same. And the one after that.
The multi-million dollar foundation of his life was dissolving into ash in real-time. Finally, a call came from Ryan.
"Director, it's over. The server was hacked. Every offshore account, every hidden file, every dark secret has been sent to the news and authorities."
The fat man's voice was a pathetic wheeze. "Ryan! Listen! Go to the safe in the office! Take the 2.8 million in cash!"
"Meet me at the private hangar! We're leaving the country! I'll give you half, Ryan! You're the only one I trust!"
The silence on the other end lasted forever. Then, a cold, jagged laugh erupted from the speaker.
"2.8 million? I'm looking at it right now, Boss. It's beautiful. But I'm not meeting you anywhere. I've already moved the funds."
"It belongs to the man who actually did the work while you sat in your gold chair and grew fat."
"You traitor! I trusted you with my life!"
"You trusted a tool, Boss. You used me as your shield. You were going to let me take the rap for you. Well, guess what? I'm quitting."
Through the speaker, the distant, melodic chime of an airport terminal echoed. Final boarding call for Flight 702 to Zurich.
"I'm in the first class lounge, Boss. Sipping a vintage cognac you'll never taste again. You're broke. You're a nobody."
"Oh, and by the way, I'm not alone."
The fat man heard the sound of the phone being handed over. Then, his wife's voice came through the speaker.
"You're a failure, you fat pig," she said, her voice sharp as a razor.
"I'm taking the house, the jewelry, and the life I actually deserve. I only stayed for the money. Now there is no reason to look at your face."
"But the children," he gasped, clutching his chest. "Syl, she looks just like me. She has my eyes. How could you do this?"
His wife let out a laugh that sounded like glass breaking in a dark room.
"Family? You poor, deluded fool. Do you really think she's yours just because of a few physical traits?"
"Years ago, I was your father's mistress. He kept me for three years before he finally cast me aside like trash."
"I was furious. I wanted revenge. That's when I found you. The perfect, gullible fool to take the fall for his mistake."
"I made sure you thought you won my heart. But the truth is, I was already pregnant with his child."
"He paid for our lavish wedding just to bury his own sin and keep me quiet. Syl isn't your daughter, you pathetic loser."
"She's your half sister! Goodbye, my dear husband! Haha!"
The revelation was the final, lethal blow. The combined weight of ruin and betrayal caused a massive, catastrophic heart attack.
The fat man's face turned a bruised shade of purple. He clutched his chest, his fingers digging into his own skin.
He let out a final, rattling gasp, and collapsed onto the marble. His head hit the floor with a hollow thud.
Max stood there, a sudden, sharp pang of guilt lancing through his chest.
He had wanted revenge. But this felt like he had watched an entire human life disintegrate into a pile of misery and death.
Did I do this? he wondered. Was a few insults worth a man's life?
Logan, ever the observant soldier, leaned in and spoke in a low, soothing tone.
"Do not let your heart be troubled, Young Master. You did not kill this man. He was killed by the weight of his own sins."
"You merely pulled back the curtain and let the light hit the rot. Today was simply the day the debt came due."
At that moment, the cashier who had been knocked unconscious by Logan sat up. She rubbed her jaw, and her eyes landed on the corpse.
She, the one who had called Max a beggar and ordered him thrown out, let out a scream that could shatter glass.
"Murderer! The beggar is a murderer! Someone call the police! He killed him! He killed everyone!"
The sound of heavy boots began to echo from the mall corridor. The security team and first responders were closing in.
The calm of the boutique was about to be replaced by a different kind of storm.