The noises from the rowdy crowd outside continued to rise, in stark contrast to the calm and quiet atmosphere of the office—an atmosphere I was about to shatter.
"Are you insane? How could you end the first round so quickly? Do you know who was watching your match?"
Sora sat in his chair, sneering at the fighter standing before him—Cobra.
Contrary to the commanding presence of his massive build, Cobra now stood with his head bowed, hands clasped in front of him, like a high school student being scolded by a strict teacher.
"Luckily, he doesn't know anything about fights. If he finds out, that new life you're hoping for—just forget about it."
Though Cobra stood there, enduring the reprimand, his eyes betrayed his disapproval of the words being hurled at him.
If you looked closely, you'd notice his mouth twitching, as if he wanted to say something but was too afraid to speak up.
His verbal skills didn't seem to match his combat abilities.
Sora was about to continue berating him when he noticed Cobra's gaze drifting toward the door, as if sensing something outside.
He was about to storm out wondering what was going on outside the office only to have a stack of papers thrown at him.
He turns to see Sora's angry face.
"How dare you ignore me?"
Cobra tried to explain himself, but Sora cut him off.
"What? Do you think you've made it just because you won the match? Let me remind you—I made you. Without me, you're nothing."
Frustration and rage contorted Sora's face, all because Cobra's momentary lapse in attention had been taken as a sign of disrespect.
"Don't rely on him too much; he's an investor. Today, you're useful to him. Tomorrow, he'll toss you aside."
Cobra bowed deeply in an effort to placate Sora.
"I didn't mean to, sir."
"What do you mean, huh? What do you mean?"
Sora continued throwing papers at Cobra as if the apology had only fueled his anger.
Although Cobra's mask hid his expression, his eyes and body language spoke of confusion. What did I do wrong now?
"What? Do you have something to say?"
Cobra straightened his back, realizing that bowing wasn't helping.
His mind, long unused to critical thinking, scrambled to find something—anything—that might calm Sora down.
Finding nothing, he resigned himself to more abuse, until once again, his attention shifted to the door.
If Sora was a burning flame before, after repeating the same action he became an erupting volcano and was about to explode on him.
BAM! BAM!
Two loud knocks caused a cloud of dust to rise within the office.
Sora waved his hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air and figure out what was going on, only to hear a voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar.
"Mr. Sora Would you care to join me for this dance?"
Before Cobra could fully process the situation, he realized I was standing right beside him.
He instinctively began to move, only to stop in his tracks at Sora's command.
"W-what are you doing here, sir?"
Sora started to step toward me, but I halted him with a raised hand.
"Don't move. Your spot is perfect."
Confusion washed over him, but he obeyed the order.
I took a moment to look at both Sora and Cobra, my hand on my chin. Both men stood frozen, exchanging glances while I pondered what to do with them.
The quiet returned to the office.
"I noticed you don't use your legs much in combat,".
"I rely more on my hands in fights."
"Yes, I've noticed. It seems I'll need to help you develop some new habits."
I pointed toward the desk in front of them.
Cobra and Sora followed my finger, both wondering why I was singling out the desk.
"I want you to use both your legs and the desk to pin Sora against the wall behind him. Can you manage that?"
Sora began to sweat profusely, realizing where this was heading.
He opened his mouth to try and de-escalate the situation, but Cobra lifted his leg and kicked the desk.
The force of the kick sent the desk flying as though it had legs of its own, slamming straight into Sora.
THUD
The desk crushes Sora's legs, and his head hit the surface with a resounding thud.
His nose was now enthusiastically bleeding.
As he struggled to lift himself free of the desk's weight, Cobra planted his foot firmly on its edge, pinning Sora in place.
"S-Sir, I can explain—"
"Oh really? Quickly then. What are you waiting for? Explain!"
"I..."
I grabbed Sora's head with one hand.
BAM
His head slammed against the desk, and I held it there, ensuring he couldn't wriggle free.
"Well? Weren't you about to say something? Speak up; I'm all ears."
He tried to form words, but all that came out were muffled, incoherent sounds, thanks to his face being pressed against the desk.
"What's that? What are you trying to say?"
I turned to Cobra and gave him a quizzical look.
"Can you understand him?"
Cobra, visibly uncomfortable, hesitated. How am I supposed to understand him when you're smashing his face into the desk? Of course, these were thoughts he dared not say out loud.
He'd seen the devil incarnate standing before him, and besides, I was the one who held the power to grant him the "new life" he so desperately wanted.
"I... I can't make out anything he's saying, sir."
I turned my attention back to the pitiful Sora.
"See? I mean, did you hear? Even he can't understand you. Have you had speech problems since childhood or what?"
Sora weakly pounded the desk with his fists, silently pleading for mercy.
Though I was still enjoying myself, I reluctantly let him go, fearing he might actually die if I continued.
Gasping for air like a drowning man, he clutched at his desk, his face smeared with blood.
With great difficulty, Sora stood upright, trembling from head to toe, his legs still pinned by the desk.
"Sir, I made a mistake."
"Good. And what mistake was that?"
Sora froze, suddenly uncertain.
Is he testing me? Or does he not actually know? The human psyche is a fascinating thing, isn't it? Look at him—just a moment ago, he was willing to do anything for my forgiveness. Now that he suspects I might not fully understand the situation, he's already scheming to deceive me.
As if I can't read his thoughts.
The annoying part? He's not entirely wrong.
I don't yet know all the details of his betrayal... but I will soon.
I scanned the office, searching for something suitable for the idea forming in my mind.
Just as I was about to give up, a small box sitting on the desk caught my eye—a box like one meant for a wedding ring.
I grabbed it and approached Sora, opening it before him.
"What's in the box?"
My question left Sora bewildered. How could it not? The answer was the simplest thing in the world.
"The box is empty, sir—"
SLAP
The sharp sound echoed as Sora staggered, a cry escaping his lips.
The pain from the slap was one thing, but not knowing why he was being slapped was far worse.
"The box has a tiger in it. Don't you see it?"
Sora wasn't the only one confused—Cobra, who had been silently observing without uttering a word, now looked utterly perplexed. What's going on here?
"Try again."
Sora glanced at the empty box, unable to understand what I was aiming for.
"Sir, the box is really—"
SLAP
"The box has a tiger. Have you had vision problems since childhood or what? Look harder. Try again."
Sora struggled to understand my intentions.
He glanced over at Cobra, who immediately avoided his gaze, as if silently saying: Don't drag me into this. Solve your problems yourself, brother.
All your allies betrayed you, Richard.
Sora refocused on the box, wishing I wasn't wearing the mask so he could at least read my expressions.
Then an idea dawned on him—a simple one. He's asserting dominance, he thought.
He wants me to contradict what I see and accept his reality. Buoyed by his newfound understanding, he spoke with confidence:
"The box has a tiger, sir—"
SLAP
This wasn't just any slap; I didn't increase its force, yet I was sure it was the hardest thing he'd ever experienced.
Having believed he'd cracked the greatest mystery of the universe, Sora was back at square one, completely lost.
"You really do have a problem with your vision. Where would a tiger come from here? Not to mention how would a tiger fit in a box? Have you had thinking problems since childhood or what?"
What's your problem? First, you say the box has a tiger; then, you say it's empty. Just kill me already—why are you playing this game? Sora now felt on the verge of tears but held them back, fearing it would only complicate the issue.
"Try again. Go on."
A heavy silence filled the room. Sora decided the best option was to say nothing at all, but—
SLAP
He couldn't take it anymore.
Tears streamed down his face, his cheek swollen, and his nose bleeding incessantly.
"Is my question really that hard?"
Suddenly, an idea flashed in Sora's mind—so simple, he doubted it could work. But what choice did he have but to try?
"S-Sir, the box has whatever you want it to have."
Each word was spoken hesitantly, with great effort, expecting another slap at any moment.
But his answer brought no pain.
Had… had he succeeded?
SLAP
He collapsed onto the desk, barely conscious, before my voice and a reassuring pat on his shoulder revived him.
"You finally gave the right answer. Good, good. Now let's get back to the matter at hand."
My words brought some life back to him, albeit with a hint of resentment. If I got it right, why did you slap me again? Do you enjoy torturing me?
I turned to Cobra, whose terror was palpable as he stared at the demon standing before him. My gaze only worsened the situation.
"You may leave. Wait for me outside."
Following my orders, Cobra exited the room.
He seemed about to close the door but then remembered there was no longer a door to close.
He slipped away quietly.
"I have a suspicion that you don't remember the details of the agreement we made."
"No, sir! How could I forget?"
"Really? Then prove it. Tell me what we agreed upon. Come on, you've wasted enough of my time."
Sora suspected I might be bluffing—that I was the one who had forgotten the agreement—but quickly dismissed the thought.
If I try to deceive him and he catches on, I don't know what he'll do. He's insane. Tortured physically and mentally, Sora chose to play it safe.
See? These are the benefits of physical and psychological torture, so that some people wouldn't think I was doing it for fun.
From his long, tedious explanation, I distilled the gist: The body's owner had invested in the fighting arenas—almost all of them—to discover and recruit strong fighters.
Why? Sora didn't know.
All he knew was that they had been promised a new life.
Since most participants were fugitives or criminals, they were like dogs drooling over a bone.
"And what did you do?"
"Sir, I was just increasing your profits. It's not like I was hiding any money from you."
"Who cares about the scraps you're digging up like a chicken? Do you think I'm as poor as you?"
What's with my animal analogies today?
It's easy for you to say that money is like rice to you. If you don't care about money, why make a scene? Suddenly, his body trembled as he was overcome with the thought that I could read his thoughts because of my look at him.
He tries to correct me.
"Of course, of course. It's nothing compared to you, sir. But… but why?"
He couldn't help asking why he'd just endured the worst night of his life. Of course, being a refugee, there were likely worse nights in his past.
"Still asking questions?"
I stepped closer, making him flinch and retreat—only to be blocked by the wall. He couldn't look anywhere but at the floor.
"I… I didn't mean to…"
Good. He was subdued.
"So why did you rig the matches and make the Monkey Man lose on purpose?"
"For… for that?"
"What? Do you think it's nothing? Do you think I overreacted?"
"No, no, sir. I wouldn't dare. But I was giving everyone a chance. I wouldn't dare disrupt your plans, but… it seems you didn't read my message, s-sir."
Message? What message? Wait… do I have a phone? I remember Hank handled the calls.
But Hank doesn't know about these fights, so the body's owner must have had a separate device to communicate with both the old man and this idiot.
"When you didn't respond, I assumed you approved. It seems I was wrong. Please forgive me."
"And what was in this message that justifies what you did?"
"Sir, I uncovered the Monkey Man's background. It was my mistake for not discovering it sooner, but I found it at the last minute—pure luck."
Pure luck? What? Could he be a cop or a spy for some rival faction? But why would he involve his sister in this? Something doesn't add up.
Is this fool lying to me? No, he's been thoroughly broken. There's no way he's playing games now.
"Spit it out. My patience is wearing thin. Who is the Monkey Man?"
Sora swallowed hard, glancing nervously around the room—particularly at the door that no longer existed.
His unease only made me more anxious.
Is he from the Four Families? The royal family? Just the thought made my stomach churn. Please don't do this to me. I don't need more problems.
"It's the last descendant of…"
Sora leaned in close despite his battered body, clearly desperate to keep this information from escaping the room.
"He's the last descendant of the Fallen Family."
Curse me and my ancestors.
At this rate, I'm destined to die from a heart attack.
The Fallen Family? You've got to be kidding me.