The night was still, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional clatter of bottles as they rolled along the streets below. From where Rion stood, perched halfway up the side of a luxury hotel in Coca Town, the city felt like a different world altogether. The view was breathtaking—the building looming against the starless sky, its neon lights stretching in every direction. But Rion wasn't here for the scenery.
He'd already scouted the area, noting the number and position of guards stationed inside and outside the building. Herbert and his cronies, apparently, were well secured. But the extra security wasn't going to stop Rion from sending a clear message tonight.
"No more games, Young Master #1," Rion muttered to himself as he scaled the side of the building. "You should've just stayed down."
His magnetic gloves hummed softly as they clung to the smooth surface of the hotel's exterior, his enhanced adhesion allowing him to climb undetected. This wasn't the first time he'd broken into someone's room, but it was definitely the first time he was doing it in style—courtesy of his newly repurposed bodysuit which now clung to him like a second skin.
He felt the cool, metallic weight of his handguns under his jacket, but they wouldn't come into play unless absolutely necessary. This was going to be a personal visit, one that Herbert would remember for the rest of his hopefully short, miserable life.
"Hope you're enjoying that Red Light District tour," he muttered under his breath as he pulled himself up another floor, glancing at the dimly lit windows above him. "Because this little rendezvous is about to get a whole lot less fun for you."
The thought of Young Master #1 stumbling back to his hotel after a long night of indulgence made Rion smirk. Rich kids always thought they were invincible. It would be fun to remind this particular one that money couldn't buy intelligence.
Finally reaching his destination on the eleventh floor, Rion carefully disengaged his gloves and leaned back against the wall. The building's security system was no joke, but Rion had bypassed it easily enough—another testament to just how overconfident these people could be. He pressed his ear against the glass, listening for any movement inside. Nothing.
With a flick of his wrist, he activated a small tool on his belt that buzzed quietly against the window, cutting through the glass with laser precision. He removed the circle of glass, placed it gently on the floor beside him, and slipped through the gap like a shadow. The hotel room was dark, quiet, and far too luxurious for someone like him who preferred functionality over form.
He walked over to the bedroom door and peered through the crack. Outside, he spotted two guards lounging outside, clearly bored out of their minds. Their conversation was punctuated by sporadic laughter, and one of them was scrolling through his phone, oblivious to the world around him. Rion couldn't help but roll his eyes.
What spectacular security....
He softly closed the door and turned back to the room, his eyes flickering to a sleek black laptop on the desk.
Bingo.
He approached the desk quickly but silently, suppressing a smirk. He had a little tool for this—a millitary-grade USB drive designed for cracking computers, disguised as a simple flash drive. Just another piece of tech he'd snagged from Zayn, his friend who dabbled in, let's say, less than legal services.
But Rion hadn't just left it as is; he had upgraded it with his rudimentary programming skills, enhancing its capabilities to the point where it could bypass most low-grade security systems and some mid-grade ones. He felt a little thrill as he pulled it from his pocket, its sleek form fitting comfortably in his hand.
"Reveal yourself to me my precious," he whispered, inserting the drive into the laptop's port. The device lit up with a soft glow, and Rion watched as it began to work its magic, bypassing security protocols like a pro.
As he waited for the laptop to decrypt, he glanced around the opulent room. Plush furnishings, expensive art on the walls, and a mini-bar stocked with top-shelf liquor. It reeked of privilege, the kind that had likely been handed to Herbert on a silver platter. A dark cloud of disdain washed over him, a reminder of how out of touch with reality the brat was.
After a few tense moments, a progress bar popped up on the screen, inching its way toward completion. "Come on, come on," he urged under his breath, tapping his foot impatiently.
Finally, the screen flashed, and folders full of data appeared. He clicked through the directories, searching for anything juicy that would force the spoiled brat to rethink his choices.
"Ah, what do we have here?" Rion murmured, spotting a collection of incriminating evidence. There were logs that showed that he'd been involved in shady dealings—drugs, smuggling, illicit betting, the works.
There was also a collection of images of him in a very compromising position with a group of people that definitely weren't on his family's approved list.
"Oh, Young Master #1," he muttered, scrolling through ap particularly damning folder as he suppressed a full blown laugh, "you've been a very naughty boy."
After downloading everything he needed, Rion slipped the laptop back in place and made himself comfortable in a dark corner of the room, waiting. Herbert would be back soon, and Rion had a feeling this conversation was going to be one for the books.
* * *
It wasn't long before the door to the hotel suite clicked open. Herbert stumbled in, his face flushed, the smell of cheap perfume clinging to his clothes. He swayed slightly, clearly tipsy, but not so much that he didn't notice the unsettling silence in his room.
"Phew, what a night," he sighed dramatically, fumbling with the lock.
Rion waited for the door to close and lock behind Herbert before making his move. He stepped forward, the soft click of his boots against the floor barely audible, and pressed his gun lightly against the back of Herbert's head.
"Don't make a fuss, rich boy," Rion said, his voice calm but firm.
Herbert froze instantly, his entire body going rigid. "Wha—"
"Shhh." The pressure of the gun increased ever so slightly. "Let's not ruin the moment with unnecessary noise, yeah? You know how these things go."
Herbert swallowed, his throat clicking audibly. His mind raced. A robbery? No—no, this was something else. This voice was familiar.
"R-Restaurant Guy?"
Rion exhaled through his nose, almost in disappointment. "Come on, man. Took you that long?"
Herbert's jaw clenched. He wanted to spin around, to do something, anything, but the knowledge of cold steel against his skull kept him frozen in place.
"What do you want?" he forced out.
"Now, see, that's a better question. I was gonna make this quick, but then I thought… nah. You and I should have a chat."
Herbert's gaze flickered to the door.
"Don't." Rion smiled. "We both know you're not fast enough. And even if you scream, do you really think your guys outside will get in here before I make a mess of things?"
Herbert's breath came in short, shallow bursts. "If you kill me, my family will—"
"Oh, relax." Rion rolled his eyes as he directed him toward the bed, keeping the gun trained on him. . "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have made it past the door."
"Sit," Rion ordered, gesturing toward the bed with the barrel of his gun. Herbert obeyed without hesitation, collapsing onto the mattress as if his legs had given out beneath him.
For a moment, Rion said nothing, watching the panic settle into Herbert's eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, he holstered his gun and switched on the laptop, spinning it around so Herbert could see the screen.
"You really shouldn't leave your laptop unprotected," Rion said conversationally, as if they were chatting about the weather. "But hey, it worked out great for me."
Herbert's eyes widened as the files opened on the screen. The images, the documents—all the dirt Rion had dug up. The color drained from his face in an instant.
"No... no, no, no," Herbert stammered, his voice shaking. "I-I can explain—"
"Explain?" Rion interrupted, his voice smooth and laced with mock disbelief. "Oh, I'd love to hear it. Really, I would. But here's the thing, Young Master #1. I already know everything I need to know. What I'm interested in is why, after our lovely little chat yesterday, you thought it was a good idea to send Tweedledee and Tweedledum to jump me."
Herbert blinked rapidly, trying to process everything at once. "They... they were just supposed to mess you up a little! That's all! I didn't mean for—"
Rion raised a hand, cutting him off. "You really think this is a game, don't you? After everything that happened between us, I thought you'd respect me enough to send a real challenge. But you? You send me two guys who don't even know how to handle a poisoned blade properly! If you're going to send goons after me, at least have the decency to send ones with a brain cell between them."
Herbert blinked, confused. "W-what? Poison—"
"Never mind, doesn't matter," Rion muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "Point is, you insulted me, man. And I don't take kindly to insults."
Herbert gulped, eyes darting from Rion to the incriminating images on the screen. "I-I'm sorry. I made a mistake, okay? It won't happen again, I swear!"
Rion sighed, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. "Oh, my sweet boy, I know it won't. See, after today, you're not going to want to mess with me. Ever. Again!"
With a casual flick of his wrist, Rion pulled up one particularly damning file. Herbert's eyes widened in horror as he saw the contents—a series of highly compromising images between him and what could best be described as his father's wife.
"This one's my favorite," Rion said, smirking. "Can you imagine what would happen if this got out? Your cushy little life? Poof. Gone. All that prestige, all that wealth? Bye-bye."
Herbert's breathing grew more frantic. "P-please! I-I'll do anything! Just don't—"
Rion raised an eyebrow. "Anything, huh? Well, that's a good start." He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "Here's the deal. I've got a very large mouth, but my silence can be bought, for the right price of course."
He tossed a small card onto the bed beside Herbert. "You've got 24 hours to wire me one hundred thousand kila. I've already set up an encrypted account, and the details are right there."
Herbert stared at the card, then back at Rion, his mouth hanging open. "O-One hundred thousand? Are you serious?"
Rion shrugged. "Pocket change for a guy like you. Think of it as a courtesy fee. A little something to make sure we both stay out of each other's way."
Herbert nodded quickly, eyes wide with fear. "Y-yes. Okay. I'll do it. Just—just don't release the files, please!"
Rion straightened up, walking toward the window. "Relax, man. I'm a reasonable guy. As long as the money's in my account by tomorrow, we're good. But—and this is important—if I don't get my money in full, or you pull off some type of shenanigans, those files are going public faster than you can say 'stepmother's domination'."
Herbert paled even further, if that was even possible. "I-I won't. I swear."
"Good." Rion smiled, giving Herbert one last glance before slipping the flash drive into his pocket. He approached the window, ready to leave the way he came.
"Oh, and one more thing," he said, pausing with one hand on the window frame. He turned back, his face deadly serious. "I don't care what you do, but this really is your last chance. If you even think about crossing me again, if I hear so much as a whisper that you're sending someone after me, I won't bother with blackmail. I'll just put a bullet in your head. Are we clear?"
Herbert nodded frantically, too terrified to speak.
Satisfied, Rion activated his gloves and began scaling down the side of the building, leaving Herbert trembling in the darkness of his hotel suite.
As Rion descended, he allowed himself a small smile.
One hundred grand and some serious leverage over a rich idiot. Not bad for a night's work.
Now, all that was left was to see if Young Master #1 was dumb enough to try anything else. He kind of hoped he would.