"Why did that old geezer want me to come?"

Alex could have spent the day enjoying his brand-new Lambo if it weren't for having to deal with all this nonsense. 

He had sent him a message, an email, and even a letter to make sure he came. The envelope was still sitting on the passenger seat, stealing the spot from a pretty girl who could have been there instead. 

Alex gritted his teeth just thinking about it. 

He slammed down the accelerator. The gleaming yellow car roared through the streets of New York. After a few minutes of pure bliss and adrenaline, Alex arrived at his destination. 

He didn't even need to open his own door, as a man was already there to do it for him. 

'For once, it's not me doing it,' Alex thought, a wide smile spreading across his face. 

He handed the keys to the valet standing in front of him. The man was wearing a perfectly tailored red wool suit and a matching cap. 

"You'll take extra special care of this baby, won't you?"

"I'll do my best, Mr. Reddick, but you know in our line of work, there's no room for special treatment." 

Alex's smile vanished. He didn't like the look on the valet's face, nor the insinuation in his words. 

He got that look every day, accompanied by the same smirk. Eyes slightly narrowed, the corners of the mouth lifted, as if he were some kind of lowlife. 

Alex had hated them all. Well, he still did, but he had found a way: make enough money to shut all their big mouths. 

The Lambo he bought yesterday was just the first step. 

Alex leaned in close to the man's shoulder and whispered in his ear: 

"One day, I'll buy your worthless life and make good use of your sister as my maid." 

He spat the words in his face. The valet smiled back. But it wasn't the condescending grin from earlier—it was a genuine, sincere smile. 

"It's surprising, Mr. Reddick, that you can afford such a car on a doorman's salary." 

He took the keys from Alex's hand before slipping into the driver's seat. 

"Nothing's free in this world, Mr. Reddick, especially not in ours." 

He closed the window without even giving Alex a chance to reply and drove off to park the car. 

Alex watched his Lamborghini drive away, clenching his fists. 

'I'll have skin him alive,' he thought, feeling the veins in his face throb. 

He was pulled from his dark thoughts by a booming laugh behind him. He turned to see who it was and had to look down to spot the newcomer. 

Alex wasn't tall, but he wasn't short either. However, the man in front of him couldn't have been more than five foot three (160cm) . He wore a custom-made suit and carried a briefcase in his hand.

He was laughing heartily, completely unfazed by the dark glare Alex was giving him.

"Hahahahahahahahaha, you really are your father's son, no doubt about it.

- And you are?

- Hahahahahahahahaha, who am I? Who cares! he replied, his eyes gleaming with mischief. I'm telling you! It must be in your blood or your genes, I don't know. That irresistible urge to kill people!

- I forbid you to insult my father!" Alex stepped forward. His tone had turned darker, more menacing. A storm brewed in his eyes as he began raising his hand to slap the insolent man standing before him.

"It wasn't an insult, it was a compliment. I'm a fan of your father, though I have to admit, he turned into quite the coward toward the end of his career…"

Alex swung to hit him in the head. The blow, however, didn't land. The man had dodged it with a simple tilt of his head. 

His smile widened even further.

"I'll let this slide today since it's the funeral of my greatest idol. But be careful, kid, everything in life comes at a cost." 

As ridiculous as the threats sounded coming from someone so short, Alex had calmed down. A car had just rounded the corner. 

It was a sleek black Mercedes with tinted windows, concealing the driver from view, but Alex knew that car all too well. 

His father had arrived.

He stepped out of the sedan as a valet moved to park the vehicle. 

Alex's father was a man in his sixties, his face as impassive as ever, though he looked closer to seventy. 

The few remaining hairs on his bald head had already turned white and continued to thin with each passing day.

"Mr. Reddick, I must say, you look even older in person than in the photos in my album." 

Alex's father's face tightened.

"Who are you?

- Why do you all ask the same questions? And come on, lighten up, old man, life is beautiful!

- Who are you?" he repeated. 

- I'm telling you, it doesn't matter!

- Who are you?" he asked for the third time. 

- George Washington. Satisfied?

- It's called politeness.

- I call it an outdated social code that no one gives a damn about.

- Codes are codes, and rules are rules. Everyone must follow them.

- Yeah, yeah, whatever makes you happy, old man."

George regained his smile and extended his hand. 

"I'm a fan."

The two men shook hands.

"Bernard Reddick. I've heard of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Washington, I'd like to speak with my son."

George let out a chuckle and shuffled away with small steps. 

Once he was far enough not to overhear, Alex spoke:

"Father…"

"That man is dangerous." His father interrupted him.

"Stay away from him at all costs."

Alex clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. 

"I'm not a child anymore."

His father turned to look him in the eye.

Alex's body tensed before cold sweat covered his skin. 

His father's gaze was stern, but there was something else. Alex couldn't quite figure out what it was, but it scared him. 

"You're still a child, Alex, and people from his world swallow kids like you whole. We'll talk about the mess you've gotten yourself into once we're home." 

Alex lifted his head to look at his father. 

"The mess?

- Everything has a price, my son." 

Alex grew angry. 

"That's the third time today I've heard that stupid phrase.

- So, everyone already knows.

- Knows what?! I haven't done anything illegal.

- Oh really?" his father responded, his voice weary and filled with exhaustion. 

"And how did you buy that brand-new, shiny Lamborghini, my son?

- I wanted to show you that I could succeed," he answered, clenching his fists and lowering his gaze.

- There's no point in discussing it now. We'll talk about it once we're home.

- But...

- We'll talk about it once we're home!" 

Bernard's voice was louder than he intended. George and another man standing near the steel gates of the cemetery turned to look at them. 

Alex's father bowed slightly. 

"Please forgive my conduct, gentlemen."

Alex looked away from his father. He hadn't even noticed that someone else had arrived. It was a man Alex recognized, and for once, someone he liked. He had crossed paths with him several times at work. After all, the man was the manager of the hotel where both Alex and his father worked. 

He walked toward them, arms wide open. 

"I know I shouldn't be so cheerful on such a sad occasion, but I'm still happy to see you." 

His tone was jovial, without a hint of arrogance in his body language or on his face. 

Alex's father went to greet him, arms also open. 

"Hahaha, you were only gone for three days, but you miss me?"

"You old rascal, who do you think would miss you?" 

The two men hugged. 

"You're the old one, you don't even have hair anymore!" 

"Your five white hairs don't count, you little rascal." 

He grabbed Alex's father's head, laughing, and rubbed the top of his bald scalp vigorously. 

It was only after their playful exchange that the man noticed Alex's presence. 

"How's it going, kid?" 

"Doing great, and you, Uncle Jo?" 

Jo gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. 

"Fantastic! You'll have to give me a ride in that Lambo of yours one of these days." 

"Anytime, Uncle Jo!" 

Alex had regained his smile. Jo had this magnetic charm that could lift anyone's spirits. 

"We'll see about that tomorrow or next week, kid!" 

His smile faded like magic. 

"Today, though, is a time for mourning."

Alex sighed inwardly. 

'But I don't even know why I'm here.' 

His father had told him that the hotel they worked for was like a family in its own right. 

Yet, aside from Uncle Jo, who managed the New York branch of the hotel, and his father, who worked as a receptionist, Alex didn't know anyone else. 

The person who had died wasn't even a staff member, just a client. 

Alex had probably only crossed paths with him a handful of times on the hotel steps, but the man had still left an impression. 

He had never responded to Alex's greetings or goodbyes, merely casting him a cold glance every time he passed through the door. 

Once again, Alex despised people like that, the ones who looked at him as if he were trash. 

Apparently, the man was deaf and mute, but Alex didn't care. 

His father had told him that the man had died in an accident four days ago, though even he didn't seem to know the full details. 

'Nobody's going to miss him,' Alex thought, as he waited for the rest of the guests. 

There were a few passersby around them, but very few were dressed for a funeral. 

One man stood out, walking toward them. He wore a flawless suit, had a perfectly trimmed beard, and polished leather shoes. The man might have seemed detestable to Alex if it weren't for the silly smile plastered on his face. 

He looked like a kid, or someone on his first day of work. 

'Or an idiot.' 

Alex leaned more toward that option as he shook the man's hand. 

"Good morning, gentlemen, my condolences. I'll be the undertaker for this ceremony." 

The man tried to put on a sorrowful smile, but all Alex could see was the grin of a complete idiot. 

It worked out perfectly, though, as George had plenty of questions for him. 

'Let the two weirdos talk to each other,' Alex thought. 

He glanced at his watch. 

9:55. 

There were still five minutes before the ceremony began, but Alex was already bored. 

His father and Uncle Jo were talking quietly among themselves. Alex couldn't make out what they were saying, but it seemed to be about work. 

So he stood there, staring blankly at the trees. 

Their autumn leaves were falling by the dozens from the branches, twirling in the air for a few seconds before crashing onto the pavement at his feet. 

The wind wasn't strong yet, but it was expected to pick up throughout the day. 

'I heard there's going to be a storm tonight. I'll be done with all this by then, sitting in a restaurant with a blonde and a glass of red wine in my hand when it hits,' he thought, already dreaming the entire evening in vivid details.

For now, though, he was bored to death.

He only snapped out of his daydream when he heard the rotors of a helicopter. It had landed right on the street, just a few dozen meters from where Alex stood. 

Three men stepped out of the aircraft. The first two were built like refrigerators, wearing sunglasses despite the autumn season, and each had an earpiece. 

'Now *that's* what you call bodyguards,' Alex murmured, a hint of admiration in his voice. 

They flanked a man in his fifties, with round glasses and an impressive belly, who was likely their client. 

The man didn't even bother greeting anyone and stayed off to the side. The helicopter, meanwhile, restarted, sending the dead leaves on the ground swirling into the air. It took off in just a few seconds, and Alex watched it land on a nearby building. 

'He could've walked; it would've done him some good,' Alex thought, spitting on the ground.

Just as Alex was pulling out a cigarette to kill time, a black sedan with tinted windows pulled up in front of the cemetery. 

It was followed by another sedan, and then several more cars. 

The convoy consisted of about ten vehicles, with an enormous Rolls Royce at the center. 

Two armed men stepped out of each car. The valet approached and opened the door of the central vehicle. 

A woman stepped out. The moment she emerged, Alex couldn't take his eyes off her. 

He had never been attracted to Asian women before, but he would gladly trade his imagined blonde for her. 

Her silky, jet-black hair flowed down to her hips, her almond-shaped eyes and small mouth with thin lips giving her a delicate yet striking appearance. She wore a beige fur coat and a white slit dress that revealed a long, slender white leg.

'Who is she?' 

Alex only snapped out of his trance when she approached him. 

"Hello." 

He quickly fixed his hair before extending his hand. 

"Hello, miss. My name is Alex Reddick." 

She let out a crystalline laugh. 

"長くは生きられない" 

Her voice was soft and pleasant, but Alex didn't understand a word of what she had said. 

He didn't even know what language she was speaking. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Reddick. I was thinking out loud," she said in perfect English. 

"No worries, miss. May I know your name?" 

"Mako." 

As Alex grinned like a fool, Mako continued on her way, greeting the others. She was constantly flanked by her twenty or so bodyguards, but Alex could still catch glimpses of her face and the scent of cherry blossoms lingering in the air. 

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. It was his father, with a slight smile on his lips. His talk with Uncle Jo must have lifted his spirits. 

'Classic Uncle Jo,' Alex thought, hiding his own smile. 

"The ceremony is about to begin." 

Alex glanced at his watch. 

10:00. 

His father was right, the funeral was about to start. 

Alex had only one thing on his mind: finish the ceremony as quickly as possible so he could flirt with Mako. 

He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye, talking to an old man. He wasn't the only one who had arrived in the last few minutes, but Alex didn't pay the others any attention. 

'He couldn't have had many friends if only 10 people showed up to his funeral,' Alex thought as he passed through the cemetery gates. 

In reality, there were probably only 8 guests. The undertaker didn't count, and the old man had remained outside the gates with Mako's bodyguards. 

She was walking alone amidst the fallen oak leaves. She looked so fragile and vulnerable that Alex found himself moving closer to her. He didn't try to strike up a conversation, knowing his father would kill him if he flirted during the ceremony. 

He simply walked by her side, casting a distracted glance around. 

The marble tombstones loomed over them, and the smooth outer walls, over three meters high, shielded them from the wind and any unwelcome visitors. 

They must have reached the center of the cemetery. In front of them stood a grave slab, with a photo of the man, his name, and the words: 

Husband, friend, and exemplary employee. 

Beneath that was inscribed a phrase in Latin: 

*Nihil nisi negotium, nihil personale.* 

Alex had no idea what it meant, but it had to be deep. 

The ceremony began. The undertaker adopted a grave, reverent tone. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, 

We are gathered here today to say goodbye to John, a person who touched the lives of many in various ways. In this moment of grief and sorrow, we come together to honor his memory and celebrate the life he lived. 

John was a loyal person, known for his selflessness and diligence. His presence always brought compassion and respect. He will be missed and remain in our hearts forever. 

It is difficult to find the words to express what we are all feeling at this moment. The loss of John leaves a vast void, but we must remember the moments of joy and the precious memories shared with him. 

Today, we say goodbye, but we know that his spirit will always remain with us, watching over his loved ones and friends. May we find strength in the love and support we share here, and may we honor his memory by living our lives with the same generosity and compassion that he showed. 

I now invite you to observe a moment of silence, to reflect on John's life and what he meant to each of you." 

The undertaker paused for a few seconds of silence. 

"Thank you all for coming today to pay your respects. May he rest in peace." 

The undertaker hadn't stuttered or paused even once. 

"I will now give you a few moments alone with the deceased to reflect." 

The undertaker greeted each person individually before leaving. 

The atmosphere was heavy, but one thing was missing that Alex had often seen in movies. 

No one was crying. 

He felt his phone vibrate. 

His father shot him a stern look, but he had also received a call. 

Alex answered. 

"Who is this?" 

"A final request?" 

Alex didn't recognize the voice. 

"I don't know what product you're trying to sell me, but I'm not interested." 

He was about to hang up. 

"Don't worry, kid. Your death will be quick, painless, and free of fear, unlike the others. Make better decisions next time." 

The man hung up. 

BANG! 

Alex felt a numbness wash over him. 

He looked down to see a hole in his chest, right where his heart was. 

"SNIPER!" 

It was his father who had shouted. He had thrown himself at Alex to try and protect him, but it was already too late. 

Alex had only one question in his mind as his consciousness faded: 

"Why?"