In the capital city of Weston, a middle-aged man sat on a luxurious chair with his brows furrowed.
Behind him were his men, and the mere mention of their names was enough for fear to grip their hearts.
Death Wish.
They were assassins for hire. A deadly organization with a high success rate when it came to assassination commissions.
And this group was currently looking at the man seated across from their leader.
"Why the anxious face?" the man asked, treating the main headquarters of the assassin organization like his own home. "And it's this how you usually treat your guests? No water, no wine? Poison is also good. It took me a while to find this place, so the least you guys can do is offer me a drink, you know?"
Gerald Leventis smiled faintly as he looked at the leader of Death Wish, whose rank was that of a Throne.
Thirteen's father was only a Champion. Someone who should fear the person in front of him.
