In the VIP room of a luxury hotel, two men sat surrounded by opulence. The first man was enormous, his sheer size dominating the room.
He wore a loud pink suit that seemed to strain against his bulk. His face was marked by a deep, ugly scar running from his cheek to his jawline, and his mouth gleamed with gold teeth when he grinned.
Each of his thick fingers bore heavy gold rings that sparkled under the room's lights.
Perched on his massive lap were two dancer girls, their bodies barely denting his huge frame. Despite being seated, the girls could move about with ease, giggling and leaning into him as he smirked.
Across from him sat a thin man in a sleek black suit. He was wiry and tense, his right hand resting stiffly on the table. His ring finger was bandaged, the top half missing entirely.
The fat man noticed the bandage and pointed at it with one of his sausage-like fingers. "What happened there, eh?" he asked, his voice a booming mix of mockery and curiosity.
The thin man grimaced. "Got ambushed. Rival gang caught me off guard. Took a knife to my finger."
The fat man roared with laughter, his gold teeth flashing. The girls on his lap giggled along, though they didn't seem to understand the joke. "A knife to your finger?" the fat man bellowed. "And you sit here sulking about it? You've got it all wrong. Scars are marks of pride!"
He leaned forward, jabbing a thumb at his own disfigured face. "See this? Got this beauty years ago in a street brawl. Nearly took my head clean off! But now? It's my badge of honor."
He turned to the girls, his thick arm pulling them closer. "Ain't that right, my darlings? Scars make a man, don't they?"
The girls nodded enthusiastically, one running her hand along his broad chest. "Of course!" one chimed, her voice sugary sweet. "It makes you look so strong!"
"Like a warrior!" added the other, giggling as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
The fat man leaned back with a smug grin. "There you have it!"
The thin man shifted uncomfortably in his seat but pressed on. "You're in a good mood. Probably because of Tasha."
The fat man raised an eyebrow. "Tasha?"
"Yeah," the thin man said, leaning forward. "The celebrity. She's made a reservation in one of your high-end flats. That kind of attention is going to give your business some serious publicity."
The fat man's grin widened, his laughter filling the room again. "Ah, now that's good news! A star like Tasha in one of my places? It's like putting gold on gold!" He gestured to his teeth with a hearty chuckle. "Soon, everyone will be begging to live in my flats. I'll raise the rent just for the fun of it!"
The girls giggled again, clapping their hands like he'd told the funniest joke. The fat man picked up a glass of champagne and took a hearty swig, his massive frame shaking with laughter.
The fat man's booming laughter abruptly stopped as the person they'd been waiting for arrived. Sureiyan entered the room with commanding grace, her every step exuding authority.
She wore an elegant red dress, tailored perfectly to her figure, its deep crimson hue radiating power and control.
Beside her walked a female bodyguard, dressed casually in jogging clothes, yet carrying an unmistakable air of quiet, lethal competence.
Sureiyan sat in the third chair at the table without asking. She glanced at the men and gave a small, polite smile. "Sorry I'm late," she said in a calm voice.
The fat man grinned, waving his hand. "Late? Didn't even notice!" He laughed, but Sureiyan's sharp eyes were already scanning the room.
Her gaze stopped on the two dancer girls sitting on the fat man's lap. Her face showed quiet disgust. "Leave," she said firmly. Her tone was cold, not leaving room for argument.
The fat man chuckled and handed the girls cash. "Go on, wait for me outside," he said, grinning.
The girls giggled, taking the money. "Don't keep us waiting too long!" one of them said playfully before leaving.
Sureiyan watched them go. She didn't hide her disdain. "Your choice in company is... predictable," she said, her tone cutting.
The fat man shrugged, brushing off the remark. "Let's get to it, Sureiyan," he said, his voice suddenly serious.
The skinny man cleared his throat nervously. He avoided looking at her as he spoke. "We called this meeting to... uh... talk about the deal."
Sureiyan's sharp eyes turned to him. "What about it?" she asked, her voice calm but firm.
The skinny man hesitated, glancing at the fat man for help.
The fat man leaned forward, grinning. "We're thinking about ending it," he said, his voice casual, as if it were no big deal.
Sureiyan tilted her head slightly. "Why?" she asked, her tone steady and cold.
The skinny man stammered, "It's... it's the new gang. They're getting stronger. If they take you out, your protection won't mean anything."
The fat man leaned back in his chair, resting his big arms on the armrests. "It's not personal," he said with a shrug. "Just business."
Sureiyan smiled faintly, as if she knew something they didn't. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locked on the fat man. "Reconsider," she said softly, but there was steel in her voice.
The fat man shook his head. "No can do," he said. "In business, we go with facts, not hopes."
Sureiyan's smile didn't fade. "Then let me show you something," she said.
The fat man raised an eyebrow, curious.
Sureiyan's bodyguard stepped forward, placing a small silver box on the table. Sureiyan gestured toward it. "Open it," she said, looking at the skinny man.
The skinny man froze, his hands trembling. "Me?" he asked weakly.
The fat man laughed, slapping his knee. "Go on! The suspense is killing me!"
The skinny man hesitated, then slowly opened the box. His face turned pale. Inside was his severed finger, the one he had lost in the ambush. The gold ring he had worn was still on it.
Sureiyan leaned back, calm as ever. "That finger," she said with a faint smile, "found its way to me."
The fat man roared with laughter, clapping his hands. "Impressive!" he said, clearly entertained.
The skinny man's face twisted in horror as he realized the truth. It wasn't just a rival gang. It had been Sureiyan's men who ambushed him.
Sureiyan looked at the skinny man, her eyes cold and sharp. "That finger," she said calmly, "was your punishment. You thought I wouldn't find out you were leaking insider information about my business?"
The skinny man's face turned pale. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words.
The fat man, who had been laughing moments ago, stopped suddenly. His smile faded. "Sureiyan," he said, his tone serious. "You went too far. "
Sureiyan turned her icy gaze to him. "That finger is more than punishment," she said. "It's a message. It shows I still have power. And I'll tell you this—if I fail to deal with this new gang, I'll cut off my own fingers and send them to you." Her voice was steady, each word landing like a hammer.
The fat man's eyes widened, and then he chuckled. "Fine," he said. "I'll wait and see what you will do."
He looked at the skinny man, who was still frozen in fear. "Get up!" the fat man barked. "Stop crying over one little finger. You've got nine left!"
The skinny man nodded weakly and stumbled to his feet. He followed the fat man out of the room without another word.
Once the door closed, the room fell silent.
Sureiyan's bodyguard, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke. "Are you sure it's a good idea to involve agent Skyline?" she asked, her tone cautious. "Given your history with him?"
Sureiyan's eyes softened slightly, but her voice stayed firm. "I have no choice," she said. "Skyline is the only one who can do what needs to be done."
The bodyguard nodded, though her face remained unsure.