How many properties does the owner of this body possess?
A lot.
There are about five mansions, in addition to the one I currently live in, scattered across the kingdom.
There are also about nine branches of a private company specializing in investments and loans.
There are also nightclubs and specialized shops in various fields that he either owns or whose owners he previously loaned money to.
It seems he was keen on entering every field available to him.
Except for the domains controlled by the four families, you can do whatever you want.
For example, the Bloodsoil family specializes in everything related to the land—what is grown on it and what is extracted from it. If you want to enter these fields, you must get permission from the family itself, which will impose certain conditions.
Of course, there are other activities, such as financing underground arenas. Arenas mean betting, and betting means money—but that's illegal.
As for the transportation sector, anyone can work in it, but it seems he didn't want to get directly involved.
Instead, he approached those who already had the capabilities and expertise in the field and invested large sums in them.
Having read enough of the file, I place it on the seat beside me and rest my head on my hand as I look out the window, gazing at the towering buildings.
Over the past five years, the kingdom's architectural aesthetics have noticeably improved.
"Sir, we'll arrive in five minutes."
Hank, sitting in the front seat as usual, speaks. Next to him is Dexter, the driver.
"What's our legal standing with them?"
"In response to your, sir, from a legal perspective, we gave them money that they are supposed to repay with interest. However, the true nature of our agreement involves using their trucks to transport certain goods."
"Do they know the nature of these goods?"
"Sir, even I don't know everything for sure. I know about some of the goods, but it's clear there's more that I'm not privy to."
There's nothing in the documents, and Hank—currently my right-hand man—also doesn't know the details. The owner of this body really didn't trust anyone.
What kind of illegal activity would require such a large number of trucks? The only thing that comes to mind is the serum, but wouldn't that draw too much attention? I mean, how hard could it be to transport something as small as a serum?
Wouldn't it be better to move it discreetly, attracting less suspicion?
The car comes to a stop, and Dexter quickly exits to open the door for me. I can't help but give him a blank stare—what's with the overkill?
Dexter glances at Hank with eyes full of pride as if he's achieved some great feat, but unfortunately, Hank's response is only indifference.
Do these two have some sort of rivalry?
Anyway, I glanced at the site. It's a large yard filled with trucks of various colors and shapes, waiting their turn to be loaded.
We start walking, only to find someone blocking our path.
"Where do you think you're going?"
We're not going to waste time with secondary characters, are we?
A strong punch to the face from Dexter sends the man crashing to the ground. Without stopping, I continue walking toward the center of the yard, where I see workers either carrying or dragging items to load onto one of the trucks.
In the middle of the yard, chairs are arranged in a semicircle. Seated on them are four men with bloated bodies and frog-like faces, eating voraciously as if they hadn't seen food in their lives.
"Look who has graced us with his presence—Mr. Emiric, the most famous man in the kingdom."
One of them speaks with his mouth full, lounging on his chair. At the very least, he could have swallowed his food first.
Dexter steps forward, standing behind one of the men. With his foot, kicks him, sending him sprawling to the ground as though forcing him to kneel before me. Dexter then grabs the man's chair and drags it behind me for me to sit.
Because of this simple act, the men straighten up in their seats, abandoning their food. All the workers suddenly freeze, directing their gazes toward the center of the yard, awaiting any order from the men to intervene.
I cross one leg over the other and lean back in the chair. Not bad. I light a cigar and begin speaking with a provocative smile on my face.
"I assume you have a convincing excuse for not attending my invitations, correct?"
The men exchange glances, their expressions sarcastic. They start laughing boisterously.
"Hahahaha!"
With every laugh they let out, their bellies jiggle, along with their yellow teeth. I can't even begin to describe how hideous the scene before me is.
Still wearing the same smile, I wait for them to finish their performance.
"Where does this confidence come from, pretty boy? Do you think that just because we owe you some money, we've become your subordinates?"
He finishes his words and spits in my direction, the spit landing near my foot. Dexter tries to step forward, but I gesture for him to stay put. He obeys with a grim expression.
Why the anger? It's just a cliche scene that will end with me slapping their faces.
I extend my hand to Hank, standing to my right, to give me a file. I open it and start speaking as I leaf through it.
"We agreed with your father that the trucks would transport goods from one location to another, and with every delivery, his debt would be reduced."
I finish flipping through the papers and hand the file back to Hank, directing my attention to the man who spoke earlier.
"Based on the unpaid debts, you're far from being in a position to say those words confidently."
The man scratches his eyebrows with a yellow-toothed grin.
"And what will you do about it? I won't pay. I won't deliver. I'd love to see how far you're willing to go with your threats."
He gestures with his hand, signaling the workers to advance toward us. Suddenly, we're surrounded, with no way out.
I narrow my eyes at the four men.
Dexter pulls a black knife from his sleeve, waiting for my command to leap at them. He's not afraid of anything. By my count, there are no fewer than fifteen of them, each armed with a knife or an iron rod.
"What exactly are you relying on?"
"Me? Hahaha. No, what are you relying on? You're public enemy number one. As if that's not enough, you've also become the enemy of the investigation office. You'll fall sooner or later, which means I don't have to pay you a cent. And you can't report me either because I'll tell them you're smuggling illegal goods. See? That's what I'm relying on."
Honestly, I can't blame him. I'd even give him points for trying to use his brain.
The common perception remains the same. The spirit of the people may be dead, but that doesn't mean the kingdom's power has diminished in their eyes.
It's clear his father never told him the true nature of the agreement. The body's owner promised them high-ranking positions. I don't know how he convinced them, but he made them believe that taking over the kingdom was possible.
The only thing that comes to mind is the serum. But it's impossible he would reveal something so vital and dangerous to them.
"What do you think about me killing you here? Do you think the kingdom would miss a group of former criminals?"
Their harsh gazes remain unchanged. They aren't taking things seriously. This only fuels my anger, which will inevitably lead to their greater suffering.
"Look at the pretty boy. I'd love to see how you're going to do it."
I raise a finger and raise my voice.
"100,000 for betraying these men."
Their eyes dart back and forth, glancing at one another, and suddenly laughter erupts from all directions.
"Yeah, he's really just a spoiled kid with a silver spoon in his mouth who thinks he can buy us."
"Who does he think he is?"
"Sir, let me cut out his tongue. His voice is annoying."
Their attempts to insult me grow more creative, but whatever. As long as I get what I want in the end, they can amuse themselves for now.
I take a puff from my cigar.
"How about 200,000? I think that's a decent offer."
"Hahaha."
"He's truly insane. You've made yourself look even more foolish."
"Alright then, let's say 300,000."
"Hahaha."
"He doesn't get it. Did he hit his head? Why would I give up working here for such a measly sum?"
The laughter continues. I glance at the man with the frog-like face. I don't see any fear in his eyes. Is he confident in his men's loyalty, or is there something else?
"500,000. I think that's more than enough."
Discontent begins to bubble up among the workers. Their eyes are now fixed on their leaders. I see now—he's threatening them with something. Let's see how strong his threats really are.
"Sir, let me shut his filthy mouth for you."
"Everyone stop. Let the clown have his fun."
"Hahaha."
"Oh, I am so grateful for your generosity. I wronged you when I compared you to pigs. It turns out you simply share their exceptional talent for eating and wallowing in filth. But it seems even pigs have a shred of dignity that you lack."
Some of the workers can't suppress their quiet laughter. The situation is becoming clear. Let's end this.
"One million. I think that's enough for a fresh start."
"He's just a clueless child who doesn't even understand the value of money. Just beat him and those dogs with him, then toss them out. If they die, the police will come knocking at our door. Hurry up!"
As soon as he finishes speaking, some of the workers start moving forward. One of them seems particularly eager to be the first to obey.
He gets closer and closer. I notice Dexter preparing to stop him, but it seems he's learned to wait for my cue. He looks at me, and of course, I stop him, allowing the worker to approach, muttering all the while.
"One million? Are you an idiot? What are we all supposed to do with such a small amount?"
I stand up suddenly. The movement is so fast that no one can see it, but they all hear it.
Boom.
A slap sends the worker flying back to his group, soaring as though he's been launched into the air.
"Do you think I'm as poor as you?"
No one expected me to have this kind of strength. The shock freezes everyone in place like statues, and my words only add to their confusion.
"A bunch of fools. I said one million for each of you."
I finish speaking, return to my seat, and resume smoking my cigar, wearing a look of annoyance.
Everyone's eyes begin to gleam.
We're done here.
One of the frog-faced men stands, clearly overtaken by fear at last. What's wrong? Weren't you confident in your men? What changed?
"Haha… Do… do you think we're stupid?"
Before he can finish, I cut him off.
"Yes, I think you're stupid. What are you going to do about it?"
Sweat beads on his forehead as he tries to raise his voice to regain control.
"He's just a kid. Let's get this…"
"Just shut up."
A voice interrupts him, coming from among the workers. One of them steps forward, seemingly representing the rest.
He bows slightly, and unlike before, his tone is polite and refined.
"Sir, is what I heard true? Each of us will get one million?"
I lift my eyes slightly to him.
"If you don't want it—"
"Of course we want it. Of course we want it."
"What are you doing, you traitor? Have you forgotten your families are in my hands?"
The same worker cuts him off.
"Yeah, yeah. If you survive, you can try."
Everyone begins ignoring his rambling, focusing solely on me.
"Hank."
"At your command, sir."
As usual, he pulls out his phone and, with a few taps, a series of notification chimes ring out from the workers' pockets, signaling the arrival of a message on their phones.
Suddenly, their faces light up, their eyes glowing with excitement.
"Thank you for your generosity."
"Thank you for your generosity."
"Thank you for your generosity."
"Thank you for your generosity."
They bow their heads and begin to leave the yard, dropping their weapons on the ground. One by one, the yard empties, leaving only me and the remaining frog-faced men.
The man who had been so relaxed is now sweating and trembling.
"No… no, you can't do this. I spoke with…"
Before a second passes, I'm in front of him. Before he can comprehend what's happening, he finds my foot meeting his face, sending his body to the ground where it belongs—among his kind, the dirt.
Boom.
The other three stand frozen in terror, watching their companion sprawled out on the ground, my foot pressing down on his head.
"What were you saying? Who did you speak with?"
A noise escapes his mouth. I can't tell if it's from the pain or an attempt to answer my question.
"Dexter."
As though unchained, Dexter springs into action, slashing through the other three with his dagger, leaving them screaming and collapsing without killing them.
"Every time I ask a question, I expect one of you to answer."
I lift my foot only to slam it down harder this time.
"Aaaahhhhh!"
The ground was filthy to begin with, but now, with their blood soaking into it, it's an artistic masterpiece.
"The King of the Underworld… he told us he would protect us… that you'd die by his hands sooner or later… We're sorry. Please forgive us."
The King of the Underworld? I feel like I've heard that name before. They didn't say anything except… What was his name again?
"Are you talking about the Faceless?"
His name was too distinctive for me to forget.
Hank steps closer and whispers.
"Sir, the so-called 'uncrowned king' of the underworld is someone else."
I turn to him, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you know anything about him?"
"All I know is that he's currently the most influential figure. He's responsible for over half the illegal activities you've already managed to take control of."
Ah, another enemy. Good. Let him join the queue.
I grab the man by the hair and lift him to face me. I should test the limits of this body's strength. The serum seems to have enhanced it.
"You're saying you feared him but didn't fear me. Isn't that right?"
"Sir, sir, we didn't know you. Please, forgive us."
I smile.
"Alright, I'll forgive you. But to ensure you don't make this mistake again, I'll make sure you understand me clearly. Isn't that fair?"
"We've learned, we've learned!"
"No, I'd rather confirm it myself."
The moment I finish speaking, I slam his face into the ground and start punching him repeatedly.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
I finish with one and move on to the next in the same manner. You know I'm a fair and democratic person—I believe in equality.
On the ground, their hideous faces have become even uglier, unrecognizable, drenched in blood. I intentionally leave one of them conscious to hear and remember my words.
I stand in the middle and try to wipe the blood off my hands with the tissue Hank offers me.
"Tell the others when they wake up to hire new men."
Though he can't move his neck, he nods like a dog, a clear sign he understands.
"I want everything delivered on time without delay. Do you understand?"
He nods faster.
"Good, good."
I start walking toward the car but stop.
"If you try to go after the workers…"
I don't even finish the threat before he blurts out.
"We won't… we won't."
"Good."
I get into the car, cigar still in my mouth.
"How many more places do we have to visit?"
"There are nine more, sir."
Just thinking about how much blood my hands will be drenched in gets me excited. Damn, I'm really a psychopath
"Alright then, let's go. There are plenty of bones that need breaking."
"Haha."