It was Lucas.
He slammed his fist into Ethan's gut.
Ethan flew like a ragdoll, crashing hard into the wall.
Lucas slowly walked toward him, his steps calm and heavy. He stopped right at the doorway, towering over Ethan with a cold smirk.
"You bastard," he growled. "You've got some nerve, reaching out to my girlfriend right in front of me."
"Your girlfriend?"
Ethan stood up shakily, blood boiling with rage. He clenched his fists and lunged at Lucas without a second thought.
But what greeted him was a brutal kick to the chest.
THUD!
Ethan was sent flying again—slamming into the wall with a sickening sound.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Lucas stepped forward again, ready to strike—but this time, Alice grabbed his arm from behind.
She hadn't stepped out from the room fully yet, her body barely covered by a bedsheet. But her expression was calm—almost bored.
"Come on, darling," she said sweetly. "Don't waste your time on that loser. Let's just go back to our fun."
There was no affection in her voice. No trace of the love that once existed.
Only a thin thread of pity.
Not for Ethan as a person—but the way someone might pity a stray dog.
Lucas glanced at her, then back at Ethan and scoffed.
"Feel lucky," he said with a crooked grin. "I'm in the mood to play today—not to kill. So get lost."
He stepped back and slammed the door shut.
Two silent tears fell from Ethan's eyes.
He stood there, shaking, unable to hold back the storm inside him.
What hadn't he done for Alice?
He worked tirelessly to support his family—and still brought her gifts.
He cared for her deeply, always running to her no matter the weather, even in the pouring rain.
And this… this was how she repaid him?
His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. His chest still throbbed painfully from Lucas's last kick. But deep down, he knew… Lucas hadn't even used a fraction of his real strength.
If he had, Ethan might not have been standing at all.
They were from two completely different leagues.
Grinding his teeth, Ethan staggered toward the elevator.
Inside the room, Lucas still stood silently after shutting the door.
He hadn't spoken a word.
Alice's earlier protest made him pause—not because he respected it, but because a thought crept into his mind:
Does she still care for that guy?
He didn't realize what he saw wasn't affection.
It was contempt.
He pulled out his phone and dialed.
"George. A skinny delivery guy in a Pizza Blast uniform will be coming down in a minute. Make sure… he doesn't see the next morning."
He ended the call and pocketed the phone.
A cold glint flashed in his eyes.
But it faded just as quickly.
Returning to the room, he found Alice lying on the bed—completely naked, her body practically calling to him.
Her chest rose and fell like soft waves, and the mischievous smile on her lips erased the last trace of his earlier anger.
A jolt of desire shot through Lucas's spine.
And like a starving predator, he leapt onto her again.
Outside the room, muffled moans and soft laughter echoed faintly through the hallway.
It didn't take much to guess what was happening inside.
Meanwhile, Ethan took the elevator down.
Each breath hurt, but he forced himself to move.
Dragging his injured body, he walked out of the hotel. The security guard glanced at him sharply once—but said nothing.
Not a single word.
Ethan looked at the timer on his phone.
15 minutes left. Two deliveries.
He clenched his jaw.
"Bonus? Salary? What the hell do those even mean anymore…" he thought.
His body ached. His heart felt hollow.
But somewhere deep inside, something still pushed him forward.
Mom's medicine. Little Anna's books. Jamie's school fees…
He forced the pain aside and got back on his scooter.
He had no strength left—but the responsibility on his shoulders gave him just enough to move.
He completed the next delivery with minutes to spare.
And even though he missed the thirty-minute window by a long shot, he still finished the job.
But by then, Ethan didn't care about bonuses anymore. He just wanted to breathe—just wanted to go home.
What he didn't notice… was a sleek black Mercedes-Benz parked silently across the street.
Its windows were tinted. Its engine silent.
And the moment Ethan turned his scooter to head toward Pizza Blast restaurant again, the car began to follow.
Back at Pizza Blast, Ethan returned from the delivery. He dropped off the delivery box, signed the log sheet, and handed over his receipt pouch. One of the other boys tried to ask him something, but seeing his blank, dead stare, the words never came out.
He then started doing other chores he had left to do. Soon the evening shift was nearly done. He sat there in silence until sunset.
Then, with his shift over, he climbed back onto his scooter and began the slow ride home.
It was a cramped two-bedroom flat on the edge of the outer district.
Only his mother, younger brother Jamie, and little sister Anna lived there now.
His father—Gareth Wolfe, once a renowned S-Class hunter—had died seven years ago in a failed dungeon raid.
They never even found the body.
He had gone in with his team. None came back.
Sometimes Ethan wondered…
How could someone like him… be the son of someone like that?
An S-Class hunter, respected and feared—and then him?
A delivery boy. A nobody. Never awakened. No ability. Not even a hint of power.
"Was I born defective? Or just… useless?" He thought while driving back home.
He reached home after a long time driving the scooter being still lost in his thoughts.
But when he saw he had reached his destination, he shook the thought away and pulled up outside the rusted gate.
Parking the scooter, he removed his helmet slowly and stared at the apartment door.
But just then—
SCREEEECH!
A Mercedes Benz pulled up out of nowhere and stopped right in front of him.
Before Ethan could react—
The car doors slid open.
Three men jumped out, faces covered, eyes sharp.
"That's him."