Even as all focus was directed at Aslan's dark secret regarding Shiroi Hitsuji on the 8th Floor, the man they were discussing was casually walking through the Eye Tower lobby as an invited guest.
In a perfectly cut dark grey suit and a neat navy tie, Ren walked alone. The polished marble floor of the Eye Tower reflected his every step. The sound of his dress shoes was calm and rhythmic, yet its impact felt like a hammer shattering glass in the formal silence. He presented the invitation letter to the receptionist in the lobby, a gesture that gave no hint he was a Tier Platinum fugitive.
After confirmation, a staff woman in a neat uniform and a face as cold as porcelain escorted him to the Executive Room on the 6th Floor.
From the entrance, through the hallway, and inside the silent lift, Ren observed everything in quiet assessment. He locked his gaze on every shadowy corner, scanning how many personnel were hidden behind the walls, what weapons they used, and the points where staff were fully alert. His brain calculated the probability of an attack, but there was a disturbing anomaly.
Strange, I feel no killing intent at all, he thought. Usually, in highly secured areas, the aura of killing intent would feel like piercing cold. This time, there was only professional calm and preparedness.
Ren arrived at the Executive Room. The space looked like a ballroom meticulously arranged and decorated to welcome important guests.
Frey must have assumed Santino would bring many agents to accompany him. This many tables are too much for me coming alone, Ren mused. His eyes swept over the several round tables that had been set, adorned with silk tablecloths and expensive, lavish dishes. This was a high-class trap.
The woman who escorted Ren bowed slightly and, without saying a word, headed towards the elevator to summon Baron Frey.
Ren stood straight in the decorated ballroom. He counted five seconds in silence, allowing the thick stillness of the Executive Room to fully sink in.
Walking towards what he deemed the most strategic seating spot, his left hand moved to touch the hidden earpiece. Ren sat upright, his orange lenses monitoring every light reflection. The show was about to begin.
"Report," Ren whispered, his voice barely audible, even to himself.
"Frey is leaving the 8th Floor, estimated arrival 30 seconds," Isaac's voice crackled with static through the earpiece. "We have locked the CCTV feed. He's accompanied by two bodyguards. Be careful."
Vera interjected hastily because their connection time was limited, "The agents on standby in the hallway and lift are carrying concealed-carry pistols with hidden body armor. They are fully alert. Conservatively, there are at least thirty agents across eight floors. Not including Frey."
"That number isn't ideal for daggers," Isaac muttered, irony laced in the low voice.
Ren let out a small scoff, calming Isaac with a cold fact. "The armor only covers the chest, Isaac. But their throats are wide open."
Just as their less-than-a-minute connection ended, the soft chime of the elevator at the end of the room sounded, and Ren was cut off from his earpiece communication. Vera and Isaac could now only monitor from the CCTV feed, without any sound source.
The ballroom doors opened and Baron Frey appeared.
He wore an expensive, understated suit, walking commandingly across the threshold. His posture exuded the authority of the old clan, accompanied by two bodyguards who were sharply dressed, yet possessed sharp, unfriendly eyes.
Ren, understanding the importance of etiquette in noble circles—even though the monarchy system had been abolished—immediately stood up to greet him. It was a cold, calculated respect, not submission.
"Baron Frey," Ren greeted with a perfect fake smile, "I apologize profusely. Due to some unavoidable reasons, Santino and the other members could not attend. Therefore, I came alone as a representative."
Ren gestured towards the superfluous round tables, the vast room now only occupied by the two of them.
Baron Frey stepped closer, a condescending expression on his lips. "Oh, not a problem at all, Mr…" Frey intentionally left the sentence hanging. "This banquet was prepared to discuss a slight friction that occurred in Santino's secret routes during the last shipment pickup. This way, our discussion will be more focused."
Frey emphasized the word friction with clear, sarcastic implication, referring to the chaos Ren had caused.
Ren remained seemingly calm, his smile unchanged.
"Then it's a coincidence," Ren countered, taking control of the conversation. "Because I am the new manager of that route. My name is 'Daniel'."
Ren extended his right hand, covered in a thin leather glove, offering a cold and daring handshake, challenging Frey to accept his false persona. It was a socially impolite gesture, yet highly assertive in the world of illegal transactions.
Meanwhile, behind the Prime Minister's desk, the real person with 'that name'—Daniel—felt a shiver, as if his professional soul had just been forcefully stolen by a dreadful entity.
Frey offered a faint smile—a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He knew his opponent's codename was Shiroi Hitsuji, but he wasn't sure if 'Daniel' was his real name. Nonetheless, a 10 Million Marble reward was far more important than name validation. He accepted the gloved handshake, their grip cold and brief, a promise of hidden conflict.
"We have much to discuss, Mr. Daniel," Frey said, stepping past Ren towards the banquet chair. "Let's converse while sitting and enjoying what has been prepared."
Ren followed, taking the seat opposite Baron Frey. In his mind, he analyzed: the chair was a blind spot from the main entrance, requiring Ren to be extra vigilant if there was a sudden attack from there.
Although several finger foods and luxurious canapés were already on the table, two stiff, expressionless waitstaff began preparing the main course with overly precise movements. As the two men sat down, Baron Frey started the conversation amidst the servants' activity.
"Mr. Daniel," Frey began, his tone as smooth as silk, but his eyes observed Ren's reaction. "A few days ago I received a report. It seems something quite disturbing occurred on the 'Santino route'."
Ren wasted no time on unnecessary pleasantries. "For the last four months I have been an advisor to Santino's business system. Then, I discovered a consistent stumbling block hindering our business growth."
Ren's expression was flat as he attacked. "After tracing its root, it turns out that it is Santino's secret route being exploited by the Baron's family for their own interests, rather than as a partner," Ren emphasized the word exploited.
They continued the business conversation for a few minutes, but the intensity between them never receded. The waitstaff placed porcelain plates before them, adding two more pairs of hands Ren had to watch out for.
Baron Frey reached for a fork but did not touch the food. He looked at Ren, his smile faint. "That distribution route has run smoothly for years, Mr. Daniel," Frey began, his tone sounding like a lecture. "Is Santino blaming old partners for his own internal management failures?"
Ren leaned his elbow on the table, his gaze unwavering. "The problem is not management, Baron. The problem is capacity."
Ren paused, letting his voice penetrate the layer of formality. "When a partner begins using most of that vital route to supply their own internal 'needs,' Santino's distribution quota is naturally choked, and that will only become an endless problem."
One of the waitstaff carefully poured red wine into Frey's glass, his movement slightly too slow. Frey merely nodded without looking, his gaze locked on Ren.
"We call it operational adjustment, Mr. Daniel," Frey countered, his voice slightly rising to assert authority. "A small compensation for maintaining route security, something Santino never understood."
"Operational adjustments that resulted in a 30% loss in the last quarter," Ren cut in, replying with accurate data. "We must cut out the tumor before it devours the entire system."
That was where the polite conversation ended. Ren had stabbed Frey right at the Baron's greatest weakness: inefficient greed.
Then Ren ended the game.
"My arrival here is to permanently terminate the working relationship with the Baron's Family."
Baron Frey seemed silent for a moment, before he let out a low chuckle, a cold laugh restraining amusement. The laughter slowly filled the Executive Room, overpowering the sound of silver and porcelain friction from the waitstaff.
"Termination of the working relationship, he says," Frey sighed, wiping the corner of his eye as if hearing the best joke of the year. "A very brave stance, Mr. Daniel. However, will you still terminate the relationship," Frey leaned back into his chair, threatening, "if this will not only impact the partnership but change the business rivalry between the two parties into a physical war?"
Ren stared straight into Frey's eyes, his smile vanishing, leaving a sharp, cold gaze.
"No problem," Ren replied, drowning Frey's bluff with genuine arrogance. "Because Santino's side now has 'him'."
Baron Frey leaned forward, a satisfied smirk appearing on his lips.
"Him, you say?" Frey repeated in a dangerously playful tone. "Is the 'him' you mean... Shiroi Hitsuji?"
Ren merely smiled, a thin smile that promised no warmth at all. He let Frey answer his own question.
Frey twirled his fork over his plate, as if measuring Ren's value. "Then, what will this Mr. Shiroi Hitsuji do if the Baron's Family refuses to terminate the partnership?"
"Hmm, I wonder," Ren replied casually, mimicking Frey's expression. "Since I was so certain there would be no refusal, I haven't thought about it yet."
Frey chuckled again, this time shorter and containing a threat. "How about thinking about it while enjoying red wine, Mr. Daniel?" Frey stared deeply at Ren, his eyes flashing maliciously. "I heard from my brother, Shiroi Hitsuji has a bad memory with that drink."
Ren looked at his glass, which was slowly being filled with red liquid by the waitstaff. Without changing his calm expression, he grabbed his glass, taking a small sip of the red wine—a blatant act of defiance challenging the information Frey had just uttered.
"I don't understand what you are saying, Baron," Ren said flatly, setting the glass back down.
At almost the same moment—before Frey could reply—Ren's entire instinct screamed. A killing intent, thick, cold, and familiar, suddenly filled the room, enveloping Ren like an icy cloak.
The figure who was Ren's ghost of the past had arrived. Aslan.
Aslan stood in the doorway. Then, without warning, he launched a small-scale grenade right onto the table between Ren and Baron Frey.
Boom!
It wasn't a large-scale explosion, but a powerful shockwave. In an instant, Ren had leaped backward from his chair, his body landing lightly a few meters from the center of the blast. Taking advantage of the smoke, his left hand touched the hidden harness beneath his suit and swallowed the alcohol antidote pill. Meanwhile, Frey stumbled a few steps, coughing against the dust and canapé fragments thrown into his face.
"Aslan! What are you doing?!" Frey shouted, shocked and angry. He wiped his face, which was covered in fine dust. "This was not in our agreement!"
Aslan did not respond to Frey's shouting. His cold eyes were still fixed on Ren who stood alert, completely unharmed, only a little dust on his grey suit.
Aslan slowly stepped forward towards Ren, ignoring his brother. "Thank you, Shiroi Hitsuji," Aslan said, his tone full of chilling satisfaction. "Thanks to your presence here, I can now claim the seat of Baron Family Head."
Aslan snapped his fingers—a sharp click broke the silence in the ballroom.
In an instant, all the agents on standby in the room, including the two bodyguards who were previously escorting Frey, moved. They aimed their pistols, not at the Tier Platinum fugitive across the room, but at Baron Frey's head.
Frey stared at the pistols with wide eyes, realizing he had fallen into a trap far deeper than the one he had prepared for Ren.
Noble Council Building, Prime Minister's Office
Far from the commotion and grenade smoke at the Eye Tower, Prime Minister Daniel's office felt calm and cold. The large window offered a glittering view of Rich City, contrasting with the darkness enveloping Daniel's heart.
A professional knock sounded. Daniel, sitting straight in his leather chair, immediately allowed entrance.
A young woman with short, shoulder-length black hair in a neat business suit, Secretary Han Chaeryung, walked in. Her expression was neutral, as usual.
"I have inquired with the owner of that vehicle, Mr. Prime Minister," she reported, referring to a black van that had been parked for quite some time in the Noble Council parking lot.
"The woman has blue hair. She did not give a name, but she conveyed a message, which is 'Double Checkmate Defeat'. She said if she delivered that message to the Prime Minister, you would recognize her."
Daniel held his breath, his chest tightening. He knew well that this was a message from Ren, a humiliating tragedy when Daniel lost to Ren over a chessboard. In a different sense, Daniel didn't need to know who the blue-haired woman was; the message was enough to explain that the person was important to trust and protect.
Daniel sighed, his voice returning to its flat, authoritative tone.
"Grant full operational clearance to that van, Han," Daniel commanded. "Treat it as if the vehicle does not exist in our surveillance system."
He paused to ensure his order was understood. "However, if there is any suspicious movement towards that van, the slightest attempt to harm it, only then are you allowed to act. Protect that vehicle with full force."
Han seemed confused by this unusual command. The usually firm and cold Prime Minister was now showing a hint of hidden panic. However, she did not object, only nodded obediently.
"I understand, Sir," Han replied, then walked out, closing the door quietly behind her.
When Secretary Han was truly gone, Daniel released all the tension he had been holding with a heavy exhale. He touched the spot between his eyebrows.
His hand reached for and opened a thin folder containing an internal report about the chaos at the God Hands Art Gallery some time ago. The report summarized the damage details and several CCTV feed images. The public narrative aired throughout Rich City stated that the incident was merely a 'technical error' due to the Baron Frey Family's latest security system not being optimal, a narrative sharply contrasted with the facts on the ground.
Daniel knew well that the 'technical error' was Ren's doing. And now, with the humiliating 'Double Checkmate Defeat' code, Ren had initiated a larger, far more dangerous move.
"I gave you freedom because of my defeat, but that doesn't mean you are free to do as you please, Ren," he whispered into the silence of the room. He knew Ren had just announced his strategic move, and now, the Prime Minister had to bear the risk and was forced to follow.
In the black van parked calmly in the Noble Council parking lot, Vera, who was focused on monitoring the Eye Tower CCTV feed, suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere around her. A thick, cold silence began to envelop their vehicle.
"Isaac," Vera called through the earpiece, her tone whispering. "I genuinely feel the threat and surveillance around me disappearing, as if the security in this area was just deactivated after I said the phrase Ren suggested."
In the Cube's secret bunker, Isaac's gaze was still glued to the CCTV feed screen, which now only provided images without sound, because their limited audio connection was cut when Frey entered the Executive Room.
"We can only see, Vera," Isaac whispered tensely. "Our audio connection is very limited when penetrating Aegis. We are context-blind…"
Isaac's sentence was cut off. One of the CCTV feeds from the 6th Floor of the Eye Tower was suddenly filled with a flash of light and a cloud of smoke.
"Vera! The Executive Room exploded!" Isaac rebuked, his voice slightly cracking from shock.
Vera saw it too. For a moment, she felt suffocating panic, imagining the worst-case scenario had occurred. However, moments later, as the blast smoke began to clear, both of them clearly saw it on the screen: Ren stood alert, unmoving, and completely unharmed.
Vera let out a long, relieved breath. Internally, she realized the scale of Ren's game.
Ren was able to guarantee Vera's safe point in the sensitive area of the Prime Minister's office—far from Frey's reach—while simultaneously managing to avoid a sudden explosion right before his eyes. The protection they received was too perfect for a simple hacking operation.
Vera swallowed, staring at Ren's calm face on the screen.
"Isaac," Vera said softly through the earpiece, "who is our physical backdoor, exactly?"