"Yep. That's him." Gregory's voice cut through the evening air with razor-sharp satisfaction.
"Is he selling himself now?" Donaldson sneered, his lip curling in disdain.
Peter's jaw tightened, knuckles whitening as his fists clenched. "No way Delvin would hook such a beautiful soul. That woman—she's a goddess." The words tasted bitter on his tongue. Dark thoughts slithered through his mind, coiling tighter with each passing second.
"Fellows, follow me." He started walking toward Delvin and Jasmine, his shoes grinding against the pavement. His friends followed, their footsteps an ominous drumbeat behind him.
Delvin had just finished loading the items when he slammed the trunk shut. The metallic clang still echoed in his ears when he caught sight of Peter and his two gang members approaching. His heart dropped into his stomach.
'Oh, not here. Why now?' His left hand shot to his wrist, fingers wrapping around his watch like a lifeline. The metal felt cold against his racing pulse.
Jasmine's eyes tracked the sudden shift in Delvin's demeanor. Color had drained from his face as if he'd seen a ghost materialize from thin air. She followed his gaze, her own eyes narrowing.
"Hey trash. What are you doing with this beauty?" Peter's voice dripped with venom.
"Hey beauty, this douche bag doesn't deserve you. He'll plunder your money—he's desperate for rent. His landlord gave him two days. So he thought the only way to avoid eviction was to take your money." Peter stepped closer, invading their space.
"He's nothing but a loser. He'll take you nowhere." His grin was predatory, salty with contempt.
"Yeah. A perfect loser!" Donaldson shouted. Their laughter erupted—harsh, hysterical, designed to wound. Passersby slowed, heads turning toward the commotion.
Jasmine's eyes flashed with fury, pupils dilating. She stood perfectly still, letting their laughter crash over her like waves against stone. When silence finally fell, her voice cut through it like a blade.
"Who exactly are you?"
"Well, I am Peterson Steel. From the Steel family." He puffed out his chest, chin lifting with manufactured pride.
Jasmine's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. Her fingers drifted to the pendant at her throat, caressing it slowly. "So, Peterson Steel. Is the steel company yours or your father's?"
Peter's laughter died in his throat. His fist clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms. Heat crawled up his neck. 'Who is this woman?' His throat constricted, words lodging like stones.
"Who are you to ask me that question?" he finally blurted out, voice cracking.
"You're not worth knowing my name." She looked down at him as if he were something she'd scraped off her shoe.
She despised people who wore their family name like armor, wielding privilege as a weapon against those less fortunate.
Peter chuckled—forced, hollow. His friends joined in, the sound brittle in the cooling night air.
"I should guess you're just a loser like him."
Jasmine's eyes went bloodshot. Rage ignited in her chest, burning hot and unfamiliar.
Her fist clenched, fingernails digging crescents into her palm. The fury came from somewhere deep and primal—a place she didn't recognize. Every fiber of her being screamed to drive her fist into his smug face.
More people had gathered, forming a loose circle. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wind through grass. Most knew Peterson Steel. None recognized Jasmine. They murmured among themselves, wondering what possessed this woman to challenge such a prominent figure.
A security officer pushed through the crowd. "What is going on h-here…" His words died mid-sentence when his eyes landed on Jasmine.
He bowed deeply, back bending in genuine deference. "Miss Parker. Is everything alright? Do you need my assistance?"
His respect was absolute, unmistakable. The onlookers fell silent, stunned. Confusion rippled across faces.
Murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire as they tried to place her. Mr. James Parker was a titan in Plagatoscal city's business world—some said a tyrant. He controlled seventy percent of the water reservoir. Cross him, and with one snap of his fingers, you'd disappear.
"No, Officer Voliode." Jasmine's voice remained steady, controlled.
Fear slammed into Peter like a physical blow. Blood drained from his face. His father's warning echoed in his skull: 'Stay away from the Parkers if you want to live longer.'
He stumbled backward, eyes darting, searching for an escape route through the crowd.
"Jasmine, forget about them. They're not worth your time." Delvin's voice cut through her rage. He didn't know what dark thoughts churned behind her eyes, but he could see the dangerous set of her jaw.
Jasmine sensed the history of humiliation Peter had inflicted on Delvin. She hated bullies with every fiber of her being.
"Don't ever come close to him again." Her words cracked like a whip.
Peter and his crew nodded frantically, heads bobbing like puppets. They knew—'knew'—they couldn't afford to offend her.
Warmth flooded Delvin's chest. For the first time in his entire life, someone cared enough to defend his dignity. The feeling was almost painful in its intensity.
Peter and his crew stood frozen, as if winter itself had descended upon them, turning their blood to ice.
Delvin and Jasmine climbed into the car. The engine purred to life, and they drove off, leaving Peter and his humiliation behind.
On the drive, streetlights cast moving shadows across Jasmine's face. "How long have they mistreated you?"
"Not many times." Delvin's voice was quiet.
"I see." She looked thoughtful, jaw working as she processed this.
---
Time blurred. Before Delvin knew it, he was working at Plagatoscal Blueview Hotel, hands moving with practiced efficiency. Within two hours, the job was done.
Mr. Ben Devis returned to check the progress, practically vibrating with energy. Something had ignited that spirit—Delvin couldn't fathom what.
"Is the room done already?" Anticipation colored his voice.
Delvin gestured toward the door. "See for yourself."
Mr. Ben's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. He crossed to the door, pressed the switch on the left side. Light flooded the room.
The fridge in the corner hummed to life, its motor a steady thrum in the quiet space.
"Great job, Mr. Dred." Genuine admiration warmed Mr. Ben's voice.
Delvin shifted uncomfortably. "Call me Delvin. And thank you." The older man deserved mutual respect, not formality that created distance between them.
Mr. Ben had spent decades honing his listening skills. As the oldest worker at Plagatoscal Blueview Hotel, he'd earned Mr. James Parker's trust. He managed all the general workers with quiet competence.
"I'll inform Mr. Parker about this development." He drew his phone from his back pocket, fingers moving with practiced ease. The phone rang once, twice, three times. On the fourth ring, Mr. Parker answered.
"Hello, Ben?" His voice was calm but hurried.
"Sir, the room is back in operational state. Delvin has done an excellent job here."
"Just wait for me. I'm almost there."
Three minutes later, Mr. James Parker strode into room fourteen D. He moved through the space methodically, eyes cataloging every detail. Satisfaction flickered across his features.
"Is everything back to normal?" The question was directed at Mr. Ben, who straightened his uniform instinctively.
"Yes, sir." Humility threaded through his reply.
Mr. James Parker turned to face Delvin. His gaze was intense, penetrating. "Great work, Delvin. How much?"
Delvin's mind raced, weighing possibilities. 'Two thousand coins would be life-changing. But will he agree?' He needed to tread carefully.
This man was an unknown quantity, and Delvin craved a lasting business relationship. Charging Mr. Parker was a delicate dance.
"Three thousand coins, sir?" His heart hammered against his ribs.
Their eyes locked. Delvin waited, reading every micro-expression, every shift in Mr. Parker's posture.
"I'll give you one thousand five hundred coins. Come back tomorrow and check my house in Emasdale." The words landed like a command.
Relief washed over Delvin. Fair enough. He couldn't argue—wouldn't dare. "Thank you very much, sir."
Mr. James Parker offered a thin smile and walked out after transferring the payment.
It was a new dawn for Delvin. From two coins to one thousand, five hundred and two. Joy burst through him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His chest felt too small to contain this happiness.
He decided to share his fortune. "Mr. Ben, please accept three hundred coins for your help."
Mr. Ben waved him off gently.
"I have to go now, sir. Thank you for everything." Delvin met Mr. Ben's eyes, gratitude thick in his voice.
Mr. Ben's grin turned mischievous. "Not yet. Miss Jasmine arranged food for you at the restaurant. Follow me?"
---
Minutes later, Delvin sat in the restaurant shelter, the evening air cool against his skin. He ate while chatting with Mr. Ben, savoring both the food and the companionship.
In the distance, the swimming pool gleamed under strategically placed lights, blue water sparkling like scattered sapphires.
To his right, the bar glowed with warm amber lighting. Three elegant women sipped drinks while soft jazz drifted through the speakers, wrapping around conversations like silk.
Then five men strode in, heading toward the bar. The atmosphere shifted instantly. The air grew dense, heavy. Delvin's short hair stood on end, instinct screaming danger.
'GET ALERT! POSSIBLE THREAT. THE CHANCE OF DEFEATING THE OPPONENT IS SIXTY PERCENT.'
Andy's voice cut through his thoughts like an alarm bell inside his skull.