Saturday afternoon, Karel, who usually stayed in his room, now found himself in a filthy place with a stifling stench.
It was a stark contrast to his neat appearance and strikingly handsome face.
As he walked, a few passersby glanced at him with curiosity, wondering what a young man who looked like an aristocrat was doing in such a rundown area.
After asking around several times, Karel finally found the staircase he needed to climb to reach the fifth floor.
Each step creaked under his weight and felt slick, as if the building had long been abandoned. Even sunlight barely seeped inside.
"How the hell does Tristan live in a place like this?" Karel muttered, waving a hand in front of him to swat away a few insects.
According to the novel's plot, Tristan would eventually become one of Daniel's subordinates. With an IQ of over 150, he was renowned for his extraordinary intelligence.
In the story, Tristan could predict market trends and was a genius in the world of investments.
"Sorry, Daniel. I'm taking one of your men. You're smart enough without him" Karel murmured with a small smirk, already thinking of his next move.
Reaching the fifth floor, his gaze immediately locked onto unit 47 at the far end of the hall. But instead of approaching, he stopped in his tracks.
At the doorstep of Tristan's house, a few people with rough looks and some typical gangster tattoos were shouting and cursing.
Karel decided to stay where he was for now and assess the situation.
One of the gangsters, a bald man with tattoos covering his neck, kicked over a trash bin beside him, sending its contents scattering across the floor.
"I promise I'll pay off my husband's debt! But please... don't hurt him" the woman pleaded, her voice trembling as she knelt with both hands clasped together.
The gangsters, rather than showing pity, only laughed mockingly. Screams like hers were nothing new to them. If anything, they were a little entertaining.
The neighbors, who had initially watched out of curiosity, quickly shut their doors the moment they realized gangsters were involved.
No one wanted to deal with that kind of trouble.
"Shut up, why are you so noisy!" one of the thugs barked, scraping his pinky inside his ear.
A moment later, a young man was shoved out of the house, stumbling onto the ground in front of the gangsters.
The push must have hurt, but the young man's face remained unreadable, painless. His eyes glanced towards the door, at the person who had pushed him: his own father.
One of the gangsters, the one Tristan had bumped into, furrowed his brows in annoyance. Instead of lashing out, he took a moment to consider something more profitable, his gaze sweeping over Tristan from head to toe.
Karel, still observing from the shadows, caught the look in the thug's eyes. Disgust and ill intent.
"Your kid doesn't look half bad" the man said, grinning as a sly gleam flickered in his eyes.
"Rich older ladies would line up for a boy like this. Take him!"
"Damn you!" Tristan shouted, unable to hold back his rage as he recklessly lunged at the thug who had insulted him.
His resistance was useless. The others reacted instantly, beating him down until he collapsed.
Now sprawled on the floor, weak and gasping for breath, Tristan was grabbed by two gangsters who easily dragged his body away.
"Tristan! Tristan!" the woman cried out, her voice hoarse, yet she made no move to chase after him.
"I swear, I'll get you back! I'll pay off the debt as soon as I have the money!"
Karel watched the scene with a cold expression. What kind of parent does that? He already knew the truth. That woman would never be able to save Tristan.
She only cared about her husband, a man addicted to gambling. No matter how many times he beat her or treated her cruelly, she still loved him.
And Tristan, that naive fool, kept trying to help her, even if it meant taking the brunt of his father's rage.
As Tristan was beaten by his father, the woman could only weep. Tears streamed down her face without stopping, yet there was no sign she intended to help her son.
"Stop!"
Karel lifted his foot, blocking the men who were about to take Tristan away.
"You little brat! Get lost before I beat you up!" one of the gangsters shouted harshly.
His expression, which had been filled with malice, shifted the moment he took in Karel's appearance. Compared to Tristan's ragged state, Karel looked far more refined and well-kept.
Disgust flickered in Karel's eyes as he stared at the thug. Slowly, he reached into his backpack, pulled out several stacks of cash, and tossed them onto the ground. The money scattered across the floor.
The gangsters' subordinates instantly lunged to grab it.
"Boss, boss! Holy shit, this is a ton of money!" One of them crouched down, quickly scooping up the bills. Their grip on Tristan loosened as greed took over.
The sight of so much money sparked hunger in their eyes. They snatched up every bill in sight before anyone else could claim it.
Tristan stood frozen, staring at the money scattered across the floor. Not even in his dreams had he imagined seeing that much cash in front of him.
"Follow me" Karel's voice pulled Tristan from his daze.
Tristan blinked several times, struggling to believe the words were meant for him.
His gaze flicked toward the gangsters, who were still too busy gathering the money to pay attention to anything else.
"Hurry!"
o0o
Karel stared at the sheet of paper in front of him, his expression serious. Line after line filled the page, and he crossed out the part that marked Tristan's recruitment as complete.
Last night, he had discussed which stocks were expected to rise soon. He had also been trying to gather more information since the novel provided very little about the companies.
In the novel, it was known that Tristan started investing at sixteen. That happened after he came across books about investments while working as a scavenger.
Because his learning speed was far beyond other kids his age, Tristan quickly understood the contents of those books.
He started with small investments, choosing to be cautious and avoid taking big risks.
Even though the profits weren't much, the small gains he made over time were enough to build a solid foundation and learn a few tricks.
Since he wasn't eighteen yet, he couldn't get his own bank card. He had to use his mother's instead, but the money he earned from investing ended up being taken by his father for gambling.
The incident devastated him. The money that was supposed to pay for his school was gone, leaving him with nothing. After that, he stopped playing the stock market altogether.
Karel shook his head, feeling a pang of sympathy at the tragic fate of the side character.
Last night, he had given Tristan some money as starting capital. It wasn't a small amount, but he believed in him. According to the novel, Tristan was honest and hardworking.
He wasn't naive enough to blindly trust someone he had just met, though.
People could change, and money had a way of altering them. With that in mind, he decided to keep a close watch on Tristan.
Sometime soon, he also planned to send Tristan to college, giving him the opportunity to learn more about the business world and strengthen his foundation.
That way, he could shape Tristan into the perfect right-hand man.
Although Tristan had initially refused, Karel eventually managed to bring him over to his side through various efforts, and, of course, a little persuasion.
Finished with his thoughts, Karel took a deep breath and tucked his notebook into the desk drawer.
Now, he refocused on the mathematics lesson. Maybe his interest wasn't really in math, but rather in the man standing at the front of the class, teaching.
o0o