"Hmm, well done. Despite all the talk, you did a good job."
Jansen looks through the photos. Nothing seems amiss; everything appears normal. Indeed, corpses and casualties aren't something Jansen finds peculiar or horrifying. He is solely focused on finding answers to the unease and anomalies that have persistently lingered in his heart for the past few days.
"What are you doing here? I need some time alone," he says, unaware that there's an infuriating person in his room.
The lawyer bows respectfully – more of a formality than a genuine gesture – then leaves.
However, Jansen's words a while later halt the lawyer in his tracks, stirring a tumultuous sense of annoyance.
"Hey, don't forget to clean up your bloodstains. I find it repulsive, and it's bothering my sense of smell, damn it," Jansen remarks, glancing through the photos and CCTV footage.
"I understand... Sir." Emphasizing the word 'Sir' as an expression of his frustration.
Jansen continues his examination of the evidence, engrossed in the details that might unveil the answers he seeks. The lawyer, irritated but composed, turns to leave the room. As he reaches the door, he glances back at Jansen.
"Anything else you require, Sir?" he asks, the formality in his tone barely concealing the undercurrent of irritation.
Jansen, without looking away from the footage, waves dismissively. "No, just make sure you handle your mess promptly."
The lawyer nods curtly and exits the room, leaving Jansen to his investigation. The air in the room is charged with tension, a reflection of the unresolved issues lingering beneath the surface.
"Why does everything seem normal? What's bothering me, actually? What's nagging at me? What went wrong with that accident?"
His exasperated breaths irritate even his own ears. He detests the reality that his body has now changed, permanently marred. Then, there's the matter of his missing pet monster for the past few days.
"Even if there were an accident, that nasty creature could surely handle it well. Hasn't it turned the tables when those swines tried to harm me and my business?"
These questions continue to swirl in Jansen's mind, fueling the anger that has been building up since yesterday.
His inability to neutralize it all eventually spills over onto some employees he encounters.
The air thickens with unresolved tension as Jansen grapples with the turmoil within him.
After spending three hours, repeatedly scrutinizing the same photos, Jansen finally fixates on one image that reveals a tall man with pale skin and an unkempt, slender frame.
"This damn guy?! Viktor?! Why is he there?!"
His strong suspicion is rooted in the conflicted history he shares with Viktor. Various unpleasant feelings collaborate with his unbearable anger. Viktor contacts his father for help.
"No, not now. I'm dealing with my own problems," says a man well into his senior years.
"Oh, really? Does Dad already know my purpose in calling him?" Jansen asks, not overly curious, as he already anticipates his father's response.
"I have eyes everywhere. Besides, news of the accident is quite popular in various newspapers. I don't need my 'pet' to ensure your condition," he replies firmly. His voice is calm, but it carries a chilling undertone, creating an overwhelming sense of pressure on Jansen.
"Ah, in that case, let's get straight to the point. I want Dad's help to verify something."
Octavius simply waits for Jansen's continuation, tapping the desk and sipping on the bitter black coffee extracted from civet droppings.
Jansen sends a photo to Octavius. "I want Dad to help me find out if this man is involved in the accident ... that dreadful monster ... your pet... order him...."
"What's the price for this request?" The tension in the room surrounding Jansen escalates. The blunt question pierces, sinking sharply into his heart.
In the realm of business, blood ties hold no sway. Assistance is assistance. It's a necessity, and formalities of the job demand an equal exchange for that assistance.
"This wicked man, he has never changed since forever. Always cunning and full of demands," Jansen mutters, whispering those words to himself as if trying to make sense of it all.
"Don't worry ... I always pay off all that assistance." Jansen's typically arrogant and assertive voice diminishes. His mental defense crumbles instantly under Octavius's pressure.
The call ends abruptly, Octavius concluding it to prevent further futile and feeble discussions.
Jansen vents his frustration by haphazardly throwing his phone, causing it to shatter and slide to the edge of the room. Then, he grabs a fruit knife, ruthlessly stabbing at Viktor's image. In his mind, Viktor's body becomes the victim of his vicious attacks.
"From the past until now, you've always been a parasitic obstacle to all the success I strive for, to all the triumphs I anticipate!"
Engrossed in his erratic actions, Jansen grabs a glass with his other hand, squeezing it tightly, shattering it and creating long scratches on his palm.
"...ah, but ... actually, I don't care if you're involved or not. Just seeing you alive makes my chest tighten. That face! The face that disgusts me! Why did my father only kill both of his parents without finishing off Viktor too? It's infuriating!" Jansen rants.
The orchestrated screams intentionally resonated within Viktor's mind, courtesy of Malphas. This malevolent entity reveled in the spectacle of humans destroying each other, a twisted fascination that only deepened Viktor's internal turmoil.
Meanwhile, in his own secluded space, Viktor grappled with the echoes of Jansen's enraged outburst.
"Viktor, my lil naive master, wasn't it fascinating how they kept trying to tear you apart?" Malphas's sinister voice slithered through Viktor's thoughts.
The mental onslaught fueled by Malphas intensified, goading Viktor to reconsider the unyielding pursuit of his revenge.
"Vengeance is a fleeting desire, Viktor. Embrace the chaos, let it consume you," Malphas whispered, the words dripping with malice.
Images of chaos and pain danced in Viktor's thoughts, a grim reminder of the world's cruelty.
"Your influence won't break me," Viktor retorted, clenching his fists.
Yet, Viktor's resolve remained unbroken.
"Their world is a canvas, Viktor. Paint it with their despair," Malphas urged, his voice echoing in Viktor's mind.
The struggle within him continued, a silent battle waged in the recesses of his mind.
***