Groans of pain echoed through the office, seeping through the walls and making the air feel heavy. Men lay sprawled across the floor, twisting in agony, their limbs bent at impossible angles — clear signs that they had gravely underestimated the man sitting before them. Some struggled to breathe; others remained still, drained by the pain, as if every breath was a hammer striking their lungs.
At the center of the chaos, Arthur sat cross-legged in the boss's chair, looking as though he owned not only the office but the entire situation. His expression was cold, his gaze sharp as a blade.
Before him, the office manager knelt on the floor, utterly defeated. His face and body were covered in bruises, and each breath escaped him as a long, ragged sigh — the kind of sound that belongs to someone who has lost all hope.
"Who the hell are you?" the man's voice trembled, thick with pain and fear. The words barely left his lips before being swallowed by his own dread.
Arthur smiled — a slow, cruel smile that made the room feel even heavier. "You called me here without even knowing who you were dealing with? How careless… Well, I'm Arthur Morgan. Genius. Billionaire… and writer." He pronounced the last word with disdain, almost mocking the man, deliberately mimicking Tony's trademark arrogance.
Silence fell for a moment. Every muscle in the man's body froze, and he swallowed hard, realizing just how dangerous every word from Arthur's mouth could be.
"Now, answer me honestly," Arthur continued, his voice low and razor-sharp. "Who was the idiot that thought forcing a famous writer to sign a contract like this was a good idea?"
The man almost flinched. Fear locked his throat. He wanted to cry, to run — but there was nowhere to go. How could anyone think answering that question would be easy?
Arthur leaned slightly forward, a subtle motion that somehow crushed the man's remaining courage. "Answer. Now. My patience has limits…"
Arthur's cold tone made the man tremble. He swallowed hard and finally stammered, "Damian Silver… that's my boss's name."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "Damian Silver, huh?"
"He's not in the building… but… all of this was under his orders," the man said, unable to meet Arthur's gaze. Every word seemed dragged out by fear.
"Where is he now?" Arthur asked, his voice calm but carrying a silent threat that weighed heavier than any weapon.
"I… I don't know…" The man's words rang true, the hesitation and raw fear in his voice leaving little doubt.
Arthur studied him closely, watching the sincerity in every twitch and tremor. The fear was real — almost tangible. He wasn't lying. It was as if he expected to be torn apart at any second.
"And… I have his private contact," the man continued, clinging to his last hope of survival. "I was supposed to call him after you signed the contract, to report how things went."
He carefully pulled a phone from his pocket, his hands trembling, and dialed the number. The click of the connection sounded like a death knell.
A firm voice echoed from the other end: "Well? Is it done?"
The man bit his lip, swallowing hard as silence hung thick in the air — sharp and dangerous.
Arthur leaned forward, fingers interlaced over his knee, and replied coolly, "It's done. In fact, I'd say it went perfectly. I managed to wrap everything up quite fast."
On the other end, Damian Silver instantly realized that it wasn't his subordinate speaking. The icy tone gave it away — something far more dangerous lurked behind that voice. A flicker of dread shot through his mind. He had underestimated Arthur.
"Looks like I underestimated you," Damian muttered, trying to keep his composure, though he already sensed disaster looming.
Arthur chuckled softly, pure contempt lacing the sound. "Stop talking nonsense, Damian. What on earth made you think this would ever work?"
He let the laughter fade slowly, savoring every second of tension bleeding through the line. It was a low, cold, lethal sound — like a blade slicing through silence. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms with elegant disdain, and spoke mockingly:
"Oh, Damian… Damian, Damian… what a stupid choice you made. No, really — your biggest mistake wasn't underestimating me. It was believing you could manipulate me and walk away unscathed. Pathetic. Truly, you've outdone yourself in stupidity."
On the other end, Damian straightened up, trying to sound confident, though his voice carried the faintest tremor — barely perceptible, but there.
"Stupid? You're not as great as you think you are. I'm not afraid of you."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slowly, his eyes gleaming with razor-sharp irony.
"Not afraid? Interesting… very interesting. Then tell me, Damian — why are you the one talking to me right now, trying to sound brave… and failing miserably?"
"I won't be intimidated by cheap tricks and empty words," Damian retorted, forcing arrogance into his tone, though the strain behind it was unmistakable.
Arthur leaned forward again, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. His smile twisted into something venomous and satisfied.
"Cheap tricks? Empty words? Oh, Damian… the real joke isn't in what I've done — it's in your arrogance. You really thought you could use me, manipulate everything, make me sign contracts like some pawn in your little game. Every move you made, every decision — it's been nothing but entertainment for me. And I've enjoyed every second."
Damian's breathing grew heavy. He still tried to sound composed, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.
"You think you scare me? If that's your best, then… yes, I'm disappointed. Very disappointed."
Arthur leaned back again, crossing one leg over the other with regal confidence. His smirk curved into a full expression of superiority as he spoke with the authority of a king mocking a servant.
"Let me make one thing clear, Damian. Every step you took, every move you thought you controlled — only revealed how weak you really are. Every act of arrogance, every ounce of your bravado, only highlights the gulf between us."
He paused, letting his words sink in, his tone dripping with disdain.
"In the end… a mutt will always be just a mutt."
On the other end, Damian said nothing. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the phone tightly. He had no more arguments — no more ground to stand on.
---
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."