The moment Mark's voice cut through the air, Samantha flinched.
She forced herself to stand up on trembling legs, her body shaking so violently she could barely keep her balance. The second her eyes met Mark's dark, unreadable gaze, the floodgates broke entirely. Fresh tears spilled down her pale cheeks, her breath hitching in ragged, agonizing gasps as she choked out the words.
"I-I don't know..." she sobbed, her hands clutching her own arms as if trying to hold herself together. "Win is... he's not here. We searched everywhere, Mark-he's nowhere to be found in the entire university!"
She paused, a terrified, suffocating hiccup breaking her voice as she pointed a shaking finger toward the washroom doors.
"He just... he said he needed to use the washroom, and he never came back," she wept, her voice dropping into a horrified, broken whisper. "And when Justin went inside... there was no Win. There's... there's only blood in there, Mark. So much blood."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Mark didn't blink. He didn't move. The world around them seemed to freeze as Samantha's words hung in the air-confirming his worst nightmare. The Treasure wasn't just missing. He had been taken, leaving behind a crimson trail that declared war on the entire Mathew family.
Just at that moment, Daniel arrived, sprinting down the corridor.
His face was flushed, slick with sweat, and carved with raw, agonizing worry. The moment Samantha caught sight of him, her voice broke all over again, and she poured out the whole horrific truth through frantic, breathless stammers-the sudden disappearance, the empty room, and the sickening pool of blood waiting inside.
Daniel took a heavy breath, placing a reassuring hand on Samantha's shaking shoulder. "Nothing is going to happen to Win," he promised, his voice tight, though his own eyes were wide with rising panic. "I swear to you, we'll find him."
He was trying to keep the peace, but Daniel wasn't the real danger standing in that hallway.
It was Mark.
While Daniel tried to comfort Samantha, Mark turned slowly toward the crime scene. He didn't rush. He didn't speak. He simply began to walk. The dense crowd of students hanging around the corridor instantly parted for him, drawing back in a wave of silent, instinctual fear as the sharp, metallic clack-clack-clack of his dress shoes echoed against the cold tile floor like a slow, terrifying drumbeat.
Mark didn't linger at the threshold of the washroom. He took one long, dark look at the crimson mess on the floor, turned on his heel, and walked straight toward the Vice Chancellor's office.
He didn't knock. He didn't hesitate. He simply threw the heavy wooden doors open and stepped inside.
The man sitting in the Vice Chancellor's leather chair appeared to be in his mid-fifties-receding hairline, round-faced, and carrying the overly robust, well-fed look of someone who had never known a day of real hardship.
The moment Mark stepped through the door, the VC froze, cutting himself off mid-sentence. He frantically scrambled out of his executive chair to offer a polite, flustered greeting, but any pleasantries died in his throat as the air in the room plunged into an arctic chill.
The exchange between them was stripped of every shred of formality.
"Give me your security camera access," Mark commanded, his voice unnaturally flat, entirely devoid of warmth, patience, or human mercy.
The VC didn't ask questions. He didn't dare to. "O-Of course, sir," he stammered, his fingers trembling violently as he fumbled across the keyboard, frantically bringing up the feed before spinning the heavy monitor toward Mark.
Before the video file could even begin to play, the office door swung open with a harsh thud. Daniel stepped in-his breathing heavy and ragged, his shirt damp with sweat, and his jaw set in a rigid line of suppressed panic. Without a word, he took his place beside Mark, his dark eyes locking onto the dark, flickering screen as the footage loaded
Together, in complete, suffocating silence, they stared at the flickering monitor.
The security feed tracked Win's movements throughout the day. First in the classroom, then down the sunlit corridors, sitting among his friends, laughing and completely unbothered. Frame by frame, the camera angle shifted-following him into the noisy, crowded canteen, right up to the moment he excused himself and walked down the quiet hallway leading to the washrooms.
Then the mood of the footage turned dark.
Seconds after Win vanished inside, three boys followed him into the washroom. Minutes ticked by on the corner of the screen-five, seven, eight excruciating minutes of static.
Then, the heavy washroom door swung open.
A single boy staggered out into the corridor. He was clutching his head, dark blood oozing between his fingers and dripping down his uniform. He looked completely disoriented, leaning heavily against the wall for balance as he cast terrified glances over his shoulder. Instead of crying out for help or heading toward the main gates, he dragged his broken frame down the narrow service stairwell-frantically trying to find a hidden way off the university grounds.
Daniel's lips curled into a cold, lethal smirk-he had found their trail. But Mark didn't move an inch. His dark eyes remained glued to the screen, waiting with sickening patience for Win to walk back out through those doors.
He waited. One minute. Two minutes. Five.
Neither Win nor the other two boys ever emerged.
Then, without warning, the monitor flickered violently, the grainy footage freezing into a static-laced frame of the empty hallway. The screen went dark, displaying nothing but a blinking error prompt. The trail had gone cold right at the doorway.
Silence descended on the office like a heavy shroud.Mark leaned back into the executive leather chair, his posture unnaturally relaxed, almost manic in its sudden stillness. He didn't explode. He didn't throw anything. Instead, he simply lifted his hand and began slowly, rhythmically spinning the heavy platinum signet ring on his finger.
Click. Click. Click.
The metallic sound echoed in the quiet room like the ticking of a bomb. Beside him, Daniel's smirk vanished, replaced by an acute, instinctual dread. He knew that look. He knew that ring. Mark was on the absolute brink of losing total human restraint-and if someone didn't clear the room, the Vice Chancellor was going to become the first casualty of Mark's fury.
Without breaking eye contact with Mark, Daniel reached out, caught the Vice Chancellor's eye, and gave him a sharp, silent jerk of his head toward the door.
Get out. Now.
Daniel stood straight beside Mark, his voice dry, sharp, and dripping with total, unshakeable confidence.
He knew who Win really was. He knew because he was the one who had molded him. He had raised Win like a tiger in the shadows, handing him invisible claws and teaching him how to tear through flesh when cornered. There was no universe where three pathetic campus rats were going to easily tame the beast Daniel had created.
"Mark..." Daniel said, his voice dropping into a low, warning register.
"Don't lose your mind."
Mark didn't stop spinning the signet ring on his finger, but the heavy aura in the room cracked just enough for Daniel's words to cut through.
Daniel looked down at his brother-in-arms, his eyes turning cold and predatory. He didn't just believe in Win-he knew the blood in that washroom didn't all belong to their Treasure.
"Give me fifteen minutes," Daniel stated directly, his tone leaving zero room for argument. "Sit here, keep your head, and stay quiet. I'm going to go tear this campus apart-and I will bring Win right back to you."
Hearing those words, Mark's fingers finally went still. The metallic ticking of the signet ring ceased.
Slowly, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the leather headrest. He didn't say a word, but the sudden silence was deafening. He was counting-tracking every agonizing millisecond of the fifteen minutes Daniel had bargained for. There was a dark, suffocating violence in his stillness; the sight of Mark sitting there with his eyes closed was far more dangerous than any wild fury Daniel had ever seen in him before.
It was the quiet before an absolute execution.
Daniel gave him one last look, then turned on his heel and stepped out of the office, shutting the heavy door behind him. He found the Vice Chancellor standing nervously in the hallway, sweating profusely.
"Don't go back in there," Daniel instructed, his voice cold and absolute. "Not until I come back."
The Vice Chancellor, fully aware of who Mark Mathew was and what the Mathew Empire was capable of, frantically nodded his head, bowing slightly in total submission.
"Of course... of course, sir," he stammered, his voice trembling. "It's... it's your room anyway."
Daniel took a few quick steps down the corridor, but a sudden, sharp thought made him freeze in his tracks. He turned on his heel and marched right back to the pale, trembling Vice Chancellor.
His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Did you let someone mess with your security system today?"
The Vice Chancellor's breath hitched, a look of sheer panic washing over his face. He frantically shook his hands, stammering out the truth before Daniel could lose his patience.
"N-No, sir! I swear!" he squeaked, swallowing hard. "Though... while I was having lunch in the breakroom right next door, I thought I heard someone inside my main office. But when I went back to check... there was no one there."
Daniel's jaw tightened as the pieces clicked into place.
The frozen footage, the missing tail end of the tape, the trail going cold-it wasn't a technical glitch. The intruder hadn't just ambushed Win in the washroom; they had infiltrated the administrative wing, sabotaged the feeds, and covered their tracks right under the university's nose.
Daniel slowly turned his head toward the university's massive iron gates, his instincts flaring as if he could physically sense a presence drawing near.
He moved with long, deliberate strides, walking straight down the main drive until he stepped under the cool shade of the security guardhouse near the entrance. The guard fell silent, stepping back to give him space. Daniel stood there, arms folded, his eyes locked on the open archway.
His reason for waiting here was simple.
Daniel had personally trained Win. He had drilled every lethal counter-attack, every brutal punch, and every self-defense technique into the boy's muscle memory-teaching him how to drive his knuckles like jagged claws into an opponent's throat. And above all else, Daniel had instilled one sacred rule into him:
"If anyone ever backs you into a corner, if all hell breaks loose, you drag yourself to the main gate within thirty minutes. No matter what. Heaven or hell won't stop you."
With his own covert guards posted at every single side exit and service perimeter across the campus, Daniel was absolute in his conviction. Win hadn't been smuggled off the grounds. He was still inside-and he was coming back.
Daniel's eyes swept across the vast grounds-scanning every classroom door, every shadowed corridor, and every open walkway.
He glanced down at his watch, the seconds ticking away as the image of Mark sitting in that dark office burned into his mind. Time was running out.
Then, he spotted him.
Win was sprinting toward the main entrance, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. Right on his heels was a pack of young men wearing the university uniform-though their heavy builds, disciplined stances, and hardened expressions made it obvious they were anything but ordinary students.
Without hesitation, Daniel launched forward into a full sprint.
He sped past Win, stepping directly between his exhausted student and the oncoming threat. The attackers threw high kicks and rapid punches, but Daniel moved like a ghost-effortlessly slipping past their strikes and landing his own ruthless counters with terrifying, surgical precision.
Even though Win was battered, bruised, and operating on pure adrenaline, he didn't fall back. Tapping into every brutal lesson Daniel had ever drilled into him, Win turned on his heels, rejoined the fight, and fought side-by-side with his mentor to crush the remaining pursuers.
Win was a complete mess. His university shirt was torn and pulled untucked, splattered with fresh crimson, while dark blood caked his bruised knuckles and dust coated his sweat-slicked face. Within minutes, a massive crowd of students had formed a circle around them, whispering in breathless awe at the ruthless display of combat that had just unfolded-a brutal, synchronized masterpiece of violence executed by Daniel and Win.
But the true masterpiece was still waiting in the dark.
Across the campus, inside the Vice Chancellor's office, Mark remained frozen in total, suffocating silence.
Standing out in the hallway, the Vice Chancellor was terrified to even draw breath near that door, let alone deliver news. But gathering every last ounce of courage in his body, he approached the heavy oak threshold with trembling steps.
He knocked-a soft, hesitant sound that felt loud enough to wake the dead.
Slowly, carefully, he pushed the door open a fraction of an inch, his voice shaking violently as he whispered into the arctic chill of the room:
"S-Sir... Master Win has returned. He is at the main gate."
The moment those words left the VC's mouth, Mark stood up.
He moved without a sound, stepping out into the high corridor. The Vice Chancellor frantically gestured toward the balcony railing overlooking the main courtyard. "Sir, you can see the main gate from right here-"
Mark didn't care. What was there to see from a distance? Win was back, and that was all that mattered. But just as Mark took his first step toward the stairs, Justin's raw, booming voice shattered the air from down below.
"WIN!"
Mark froze at the railing, his dark eyes locking onto the center of the courtyard.
There, surrounded by a massive, breathless crowd of students, was Win. He was fighting like a ruthless professional, every movement fluid, sharp, and deadly. Sweat glistened across his exposed skin, soaking his white university shirt until it clung translucent against his chest, revealing the lean muscle and bruises beneath. He looked feral, breathless, and dangerously captivating-a bloody masterpiece exposed for the entire campus to see.
A dark, dangerous heat flared in Mark's chest. The agonizing dread he had felt just moments ago vanished, replaced instantly by a suffocating, possessive fury.
Mark clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He didn't just walk down those stairs-he stormed down them like a tearing tempest, ready to rip the crowd apart and claim what was his.
Mark's violent rage morphed into something far more dangerous: pure, suffocating jealousy.
Every single student in the courtyard was staring at Win, whispering in awe as he became the center of their world. Mark had always been possessively guarded over Win-hating the way people watched him drive, hating the way eyes lingered on him. Watching Win display such raw, mesmerizing martial skill was breathtaking-a vision Mark could happily spend a lifetime consuming. But only him. Never with a crowd of onlookers gaping at what belonged to him.
Mark tore through the sea of students, his dark presence parting the crowd like a blade.
Behind Daniel, John and Dean arrived, immediately stepping in to secure the perimeter and mop up the remaining pursuers. But Mark didn't give them a single glance. His eyes were locked solely on Win.
He stopped directly in front of him, reaching out to tightly grip Win's blood-stained hands.
Win froze. His mind went entirely blank, his breath catching in his throat as shock washed over him. He couldn't comprehend how Mark was standing right here, in the middle of the campus courtyard.
Before Win could utter a single word or process the surreal sight, Mark executed his true intention. Sweeping one arm behind Win's back and the other beneath his knees, Mark effortlessly lifted him clean off his feet, scooping him into his arms in front of the entire university.