With his drooping eyelids, Leuther scanned the surroundings. Men wearing eye-dazzling suits, and women flaunting their long gowns paired with shimmering accessories, were sitting spread all over the room.
Glittering stars filled the pitch-black sky outside the Baroque window. The cool breeze of the air conditioner, matched with the warmth emitted by several candle lights brushed his skin. Million-dollars-worth of paintings hung around the wall as the aroma of smoking Salmons flared his nostrils. His ears pleasantly received the voice of a balladeer, serenading everyone with a 90's pop ballad song.
Elegant as it could be, Leuther already grew accustomed with this kind of environment. For the welfare of his family's company, he was used in meeting potential 'partners' at this setting and spinning them round in the palm of his hands.
Every time he took a visit here, he couldn't help but simper as he saw women acting desperately to ensnare their dates — forced smiles while batting their lashes, wearing attractive but self-suffocating dresses, walking like amateur circus performers on wires with their 5-inch heels — he was amused of how pathetic humans could be as novice actors.
Leuther's knees crossed over each other, as his fingers ran along the linen of his black American style-tuxedo that covered his slender arms. His white turtleneck compressed his throat, and his black-framed eyeglasses covered his eyes, giving him a more sophisticated look.
He was waiting for Ythan at this point, eager for the man to fall in his hands. His blood was boiling in excitement to execute the plan he formulated. His insides were trembling in ecstasy, thinking of his tormentor's moans echo around the room.
As a scene of a woman splashing a glass of cold water to her partner flashed in front of him, a trivial matter crossed his mind. If Ythan was not willing to cooperate with him, his plans were as good as dead. However, deep inside Leuther, he knew that Ythan would never fail him—all along, he had known him for ten years already.
As if hearing the familiar brake of the 2018 Cadillac CTS Sedan, the corners of Leuther's mouth slowly lifted. He saw his soon-to-be-husband striding along the eccentric tables. He was proud of his future groom of course—Ythan's presence required attention, and his absence ignited emotions.
He leaned closer and rested his arms on the table. The rhythm of his fingers, tapping along the surface of the table, composed an unforgettable melody depicting the art of temptation. He then gently touched the clover-shaped, diamond earring on his right ear, anticipating for Ythan's arrival.
Ythan leisurely sat down and gave Leuther his usually cold stare.
"Ythan, you're such a gentleman. You let your husband-to-be wait for thirty minutes." Leuther pouted as he perfectly mimicked the teenager's exotic performance he had witnessed earlier.
"What do you need this time?" In a serious tone, Ythan stopped beating around the bush.
A waiter with a gold pocket-watch stood on the side and nodded at the both of them. From his ice bucket, he poured the sparkling wine on Ythan and Leuther's glasses. The sound of the wine cracking the ice eased the waiter's anxiety. He then quickly took a few steps, hurrying to leave the table.
"Ythan, I just want to chat with you." Leuther smiled, fiddling with his wrist.
He held his chin and exposed his Louis Vuitton Watch. Ythan's gaze immediately shifted at it and noticed that the watch's shorthand pointed at three, and the longhand pointed at twelve.
'What show are you preparing this time?' Ythan caught the idea. "About what? About life? Don't be silly, Leuther. Stop wasting my time." He sighed and turned his head three-o'clock.
At the restaurant's bar, a man covered with a long black coat, wearing a fedora, welcomed his sight. The man immediately shifted his gaze back to the bartender after he saw Ythan looking at him.
"Getting to know your lifelong partner isn't a waste of time." Leuther's tantalizing stares lingered around Ythan's lips. He leaned dangerously closer. "How about we do the honeymoon before the wedding? I know you're not into tradition." His sultry voice drifted into Ythan's ears.
Ythan cocked his head to the side and remained unfazed by Leuther's seduction. The truth was, only one percent of Leuther's potential 'partners' could withstand his sultry voice. Unfortunately, Ythan claimed to be one out of that one hundred people.
Leuther sighed and got down to business. His eyes swept on the CCTV scattered all around the restaurant. He also recognized a few suspicious eyes and ears prying on him.
"Okay. Let's do it after the wedding then. Anyway, here's my new number." He winked at Ythan and slid a piece of paper across the table. "Call me anytime...especially if you need it."
16 15 9 19 15 14 ?
Ythan scanned the digits, covering the last symbol with his thumb. 'Choosing numbers to symbolize letters? How dare you use the same old trick.' He crumpled the paper and threw it onto the table. "I don't need it." He pressed a bell, and an old bartender rushed to him.
"Yes, sir? Your order?" The bartender said in an Italian accent.
"One shot of Black Markus." Ythan handed his credit card to the man standing at his side. His gaze still affixed at Leuther.
"Really, Ythan? You left me starving for thirty minutes, and you'll only order one shot of Black Markus?" Leuther's posture stiffened. His eyes narrowed. "You're not even going to order for me?"
After swiping the card, the old bartender went back together with Ythan's credit card and an invoice needing Ythan's signature.
"It's not for me. It's for you." As the old bartender handed the pen, Ythan swiftly signed the paper with a cursive writing that read as follows:
'GiveThePoisonWhenLeutherWalksAway'
" As the old bartender handed the pen, Ythan swiftly signed the paper with a cursive writing that read as follows:
Leuther swept an eye to the paper. The old bartender smiled and walked back to his working station with Ythan's fake signature.
"Now, if I may. Enjoy the rest of the night, Leuther." Ythan smirked and stood to take an exit.
As Leuther saw Ythan's silhouette leaving the door, he slammed the table and gritted his teeth. "Damn you, Ythan! Damn you!"
Hearing the clink of metal utensils on the table, a few people looked at his direction. He stared at the complimentary wine the waiter had served earlier and took a sip from it to cool himself down. Feeling his nerves relaxed a little bit, he left the table.
As the turn-out-of-events were revealed, the gaze of the mysterious man at the bar followed Leuther entering the Comfort Room. Sweat trickling down his temples, he observed his watch. After a few seconds, a smile slowly crept on his face, as the red dot on his watch stopped moving. A death scream pierced his eardrums before a static noise took over his hidden earpiece.
"Excuse me, Sir." The old bartender smiled at him, catching his attention. "Please take this complimentary drink for the restaurant's first anniversary."
"Indeed! Indeed! This is worthy of a celebration," the man responded. He ardently took the shot glass and gulped the black liquid in one go. Seeming to taste the sweet victory, he couldn't help but grin wider as he imagined a lot of zeros entering his bank account.
In the middle of a busy hour, the old bartender casually left the bar station.
While the man was celebrating his supposed-to-be success, his chest suddenly tightened. He shifted his position several times before he felt a raging flame traveling from his stomach, all the way up to his mouth. His bloodshot eyes were popping out as he desperately held his throat, gasping for air.
"AAAHHH! AAAHHH!"
The man moaned on the top of his lungs. He laid on the floor thrashing, kicking all the stools around him. After what felt like a century of terrorizing shrieks, his breathing hitched and a pool of blood came flowing out from his three orifices.
Leuther sensed the commotion outside the restroom as he listened to the people's howls of surprise and panic. He spat out the wine he had sipped earlier and flushed it, together with a tracking device he had found at his tuxedo, in a toilet bowl.
He stepped outside the cubicle, washed his hands, and looked at the mirror. He noticed a stubborn strand of hair arching on his forehead. After futile attempts of blowing to straighten it up, he adjusted his short, thick, wavy hair, whistling to the tune of Kill Bill's whistle song—The Twisted Nerve.
'An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.' He stared at his reflection.
The entrance of the restroom suddenly flung open as two bodyguards went inside. With them was the waiter, who poured the wine on Leuther's drinking glass before the gruesome scene.
"Shifu! Shifu! Please spare me! Please spare me!" The waiter kneeled on the bathroom floor, hugging Leuther's thigh.
As tears soaked his black pants, Leuther loftily looked at the waiter, wanting to expose his new subject's ignorance. "Aaawww. Poor Little Guy. Now stand up." He offered his hand and urged the waiter to rise on his feet.
The waiter clutched the gentleman's hand and stood with his body shaking uncontrollably.
"Now tell me how much?" Leuther plucked his lips.
"Wh-What... I-I'm sorry sir?" The waiter fumbled for words.
"How much did he pay you to poison me?" Leuther clarified himself. He bent forward and whispered to the man's ears, "Do you want to share the same fate as him?"
"Fifty-Fifty Thousand Yuan," the waiter stuttered as his breath burst in and out. "I don't want to die. Please forgive me! Please forgive me!"
"Ohw? Only Fifty Thousand Yuan in exchange for someone's life?" Leuther smiled and nodded at one of his bodyguards.
The waiter saw the bodyguard reaching something out from his slacks. 'Is-is it a gun?' He quickly tried to flee but was firmly held down by the other escort. He closed his eyes waiting for his demise, and images of what-could-be were flashing through his mind. Blood drained out from his face, as his bladder loosened and a yellow fluid leaked out his white pants.
"Why are you closing your eyes?" Leuther's voice playfully roamed around his ears. "You don't want to see your present?"
As if enchanted by Leuther's voice, the waiter slowly opened his eyes, as a visible pulse stood out of his neck.
In front of him was a cheque worth one-hundred thousand Yuan.
"I'll buy your life back with this amount." Leuther beamed and inserted the cheque into the waiter's vest pocket. "Now be good and stop messing around." He tapped the waiter's stiff shoulder before taking his graceful exit.
"The young gentleman will need your service in the future," the bodyguard explained. "You must be always prepared if he wants you. He will call you anytime."
The waiter stared blankly, nodding at the bodyguard. He was dumbfounded as his brain could not fully comprehend what was happening.
Only the last few words of the bodyguard registered on his mind.
"Remember his name, Mr. Eleutherius Collins."