Morris had a strange habit. He always thought that getting into bed with a girl he liked was a sacred act. Unlike the younger men and women who would casually find a hidden spot to satisfy their hormonal urges, he treated intimacy like a ritual. Only by completing each step of the ritual could he feel true inner happiness.
After bringing the unconscious girl into the room he had reserved, he turned on all the lights, gently placed her on the bed, and carefully removed all her clothes, covering her with a blanket. Thoughtfully, he placed a glass of water on the nightstand in case she woke up thirsty from drinking too much.
Then, he undressed, neatly hanging his clothes in the closet. He donned a bathrobe and entered the bathroom, removing the robe and hanging it on the rack. Facing the mirror, he grasped the triangular pendant on his chest and prayed silently. It was the emblem of the Catholic Church, with an eye inside the triangle, mysterious and intimidating.
After a moment, he stepped under the shower, meticulously washing every part of his body. Perhaps due to the alcohol, he felt slightly dizzy, and every time he blinked, it seemed as though the whole world was spinning. He enjoyed that sensation, the feeling that he was the center of the world, and everything revolved around him.
After about ten minutes, he felt more alert. He put the bathrobe back on and stepped out of the bathroom. Glancing at the bedroom, he casually poured himself a glass of water from the bottle on the table and took a sip.
Looking at the girl sleeping peacefully in the bed, his heart began to race. Just as he was about to head to the bedroom to indulge in the night's delights, he felt something cold and sharp press against his waist.
In an instant, he sobered up.
...
Morris was a stubborn gang member. He had joined a gang at the age of fourteen. Over the past twenty plus years, he had been to prison three times. The first two times were for violent acts, attempting to climb the ranks, resulting in two and three year sentences for assault. The third time, internal gang issues arose, and while dealing with a traitor, he was accidentally witnessed by an ordinary citizen, who called the police. He took the fall for the gang's big boss and served six years in prison. Since joining the gang, Morris had spent nearly half his time behind bars.
This had earned him considerable seniority, solidifying his status within the gang, especially after taking the blame for the boss. At that time, four people were killed. According to imperial law, Morris should have been sentenced to death by hanging. However, it was during the eve of a looming war, and society's attention was focused on the conflict, not the gang's internal power struggles in some small town.
Whether out of loyalty to his subordinates or moved by Morris' sacrifice, the big boss did what any boss should. He spent around twenty thousand dollars, bribing the judges, prosecutors, and even the state attorney. In the end, Morris was sentenced to "self-defense" and "manslaughter," and with the help of a smooth talking lawyer and a hefty bribe, he received a ten year prison term.
On the last day of his sixth year, he was granted parole.
After leaving prison, the boss decided to give him a good job: raising funds for the gang. In gang slang, this role was called a "fisherman." Morris was very grateful for this. Before his release, he thought the gang might have abandoned him, and he would be given a few thousand dollars and left to fend for himself. He never expected the big boss to remember him, let alone pull him out early and give him a decent job.
Morris ambition had been worn down by his eleven years of imprisonment, so he was more than satisfied with this retirement like job.
Because of this job, Morris shifted his focus from gaining higher status and power to simply enjoying life and satisfying himself.
It's worth mentioning that the reason Morris joined the gang at fourteen was because he recklessly fell for a girl, only to be ruthlessly humiliated. The girl was from a big city, from a good family, and well educated. She was in Ternell simply because she didn't know where else to go during summer vacation, so she came with her friends.
When the girl arrogantly lifted her head, giving Morris dirty clothes and dusty face a contemptuous glance, then mocked him with a dismissive tone, Morris felt something needed to change. He no longer wanted to cower under her aggressive gaze.
He told himself that he had done nothing wrong. He simply liked beauty, and there was nothing wrong with liking someone.
This led to the Morris of today, who enjoyed conquering well educated girls to fill the shadow left in his heart as a teenager.
However, Morris was rational. He never targeted wealthy individuals because he knew he couldn't afford to offend the rich.
At this moment, Morris slowly raised his hands, his eyes darting around, trying to find something reflective on the walls to see who was behind him. As he searched for an opportunity, he softened his tone. This wasn't the first time he had encountered such a situation. A few years ago, when he was drunk and walking home alone, a similar thing had happened in an alley. The fact that he was still standing here meant he had survived that incident.
"Friend, if I've ever accidentally offended you, I apologize for my mistake. If you're just looking to improve your situation, there's some money in my coat, about a hundred dollars or so. You can take it all..." As he spoke and slowly started to turn around, there was a sudden whoosh of wind, and a blunt object struck his head hard.
The back of the human head is fragile, unlike the front, which is sturdy. After being hit, Morris immediately felt two streams of hot liquid running from his nose. He staggered forward, bent over, and half knelt on the ground. He touched his nose, and when he looked at his hand, it wasn't blood but a clear liquid. He felt confused, not realizing that nosebleeds would have been much better than this transparent fluid.