The sound of horse hooves echoed across Victoria Square. A carriage pulled up and came to a halt in front of the casino 'La Plume de Vermillion, which was teeming with guests lining up for security checks before entering.
The carriage door opened, revealing a man in his prime, dressed in dignified attire. His face was tense. Crimson flush and the veins pulsing at his temple made it clear that he was currently extremely angry.
Antonio had received a phone call just before coming here. It was from one of his people stationed within the Marcelo family. It was a call from his informant stationed within the Marcelo family, and the news he received was far from pleasant. His mole reported that after a meeting among the family leader, the elders of the Marcelo family, and the gang's executives, the council had approved his younger brother's right to manage a portion of the family's business in the capital.
Such a resolution, to both insiders and outsiders, clearly showed the stance of Family Head and the elders regarding the next successor leaning heavily toward the second son, rather than him—the firstborn.
The fact that he hadn't even been invited to the meeting only further confirmed the reality: he was no longer valued in the slightest, neither as the eldest son nor as the rightful heir to the family leadership.
Antonio stormed into the casino, followed closely by his four bodyguards who hurried to keep pace.
Inside, the casino was decorated luxuriously. The interior was filled with members of high society who wore elaborate masquerade masks to conceal their identities. Ignoring everyone who tried to call out or greet him, Antonio headed straight for the basement located in the deepest reaches of the casino. Normally, he would have a young woman on his arm, but today he was in no mood to do so.
In front of the room stood two of the gang's elite guards on duty. As soon as he arrived, Antonio suddenly gave his order.
"Guard the front. Don't let anyone in —under any circumstances."
His face and tone were fierce, so both guards could only nod firmly in acknowledgment.
Bang!!
The door slammed shut with violent force. Antonio took heavy strides into the room, his emotions were in complete turmoil. As his eyes swept across the beautifully and exquisitely decorated chamber, for some reason, the sheer elegance of it only served to irritate him even further.
"Damn it!"
After cursing, he headed straight to the table ahead and swept everything off with all his might. A swan-patterned vase, a desk lamp, and various other ornaments were sent flying.
Crrrash! Smash!
Those priceless treasures shattered into countless pieces, sending sounds echoing throughout the room. Not satisfied, Antonio grabbed an umbrella and began thrashing the furniture. Whatever his hands could seize, he hurled aside without a second thought.
"That is my right! I am the eldest son of the Marcelo family, not some bastard born from a mistress!"
This time he grabbed an antique clock cabinet and hurled it against the wall. The glass covering the clock face cracked into pieces. The noise was so loud that two bodyguards at the rear had to quickly open the door to check on him.
"Young master—"
"I told you to let no one in, you pieces of trash! Get the fuck out!!"
Seeing Antonio's state and the absolute carnage inside the room, the guards quickly lowered their heads and scrambled back out immediately.
Antonio panted heavily, his breath ragged. Having vented his rage, he began to regain his reason. He pressed his hands against forehead, before adjusting his attire to restore his dignified appearance and the sound of his gasping gradually quieted down.
After a long moment, a sinister smirk spread across Antonio's face. A glint of madness flickered in his eyes.
"Just you wait... With the cult's help, I will become the head of this family."
The struggle for the position of Marcelo family leader had been going on since he could remember. However, the tide had begun to turn ever since his mother passed away a year ago. Without the backing of the family's Great Madame, the elders had shifted their attention toward his half-brother, who proved to be more capable.
Having lived a life of luxury since birth, granted to him without ever having to lift a finger—Antonio had never known what it felt like to be inferior to others. While he was cornered and desperate, he learned of the existence of a certain cult. He had witnessed the cult's Law bringers perform supernatural miracles time and time again. To him, it felt as though he had discovered a new source of power—one that far surpassed the mere wealth and influence of the Marcelo family.
To him, it was the gateway to his success. He had joined the cult as a follower, carrying out their every whim as a true believer—whether it was providing logistics, supplying slave labor, or donating vast sums of money. In exchange, the cult promised to assist him in ascending to the very pinnacle of the Marcelo family.
The cult itself had no name. However, he had once accidentally heard their God's true name once from the mouth of a fellow follower. That same disciple had warned him that uttering the name directly was strictly forbidden, Moreover, if any disciple spoke it to outsiders, and any follower who dared reveal it to an outsider would face a fitting retribution... for their god hears the call of every believer.
Yet, the requests he had received from the cult over the past few months were peculiar. They involved a commoner named 'Nicholas Parlay.' What was even stranger was the fact that he had already handed Nicholas over to the cult once before, only for the man to reappear before him just a few weeks ago. Antonio wasn't certain if this was part of the cult's grand plan or not. Therefore, he had ordered his men to keep Nicholas under close surveillance.
The more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable he felt...
A Silence returned to the room, but for some reason, Antonio felt an unsettling shift in the air. Now that his raging emotions had simmered down, he began to notice something was deeply wrong.
Since he hadn't lit the table lamp and had even knocked it to the floor, the room was now pitch black. There was only faint light leaking from the lanterns hanging on the walls. His body felt inexplicably cold. The hair all over his body stood on end as if sensing danger surrounding him. The dead silence in the dark corners of the room made him feel uneasy.
It was as if something was watching him from within that darkness.
"You seem to be in a bad mood, Mr. Marcelo..."
A man's voice echoed from behind him. Antonio flinched and quickly turned toward the source of the sound.
"I hope you won't mind that I came without an appointment."
What Antonio saw was the figure of a young man in a black cloak sitting cross-legged on a chair. His face was concealed by a silver mask; combined with the shadows cloaking the room, it was impossible to make out his features clearly.
"How did you get in here? Guar—"
Instinct told Antonio to shout for his subordinates outside as quickly as possible. But before he could make a sound, he felt his collar seized, and his body was hoisted off the ground with irresistible force.
His body slammed down into the chair. The mysterious man's hand gripped his left shoulder, and with a sudden, crushing squeeze, the joint was wrenched from its socket. Antonio's left arm hung limp at his side as he let out an agonizing scream he could not suppress.
"Easy now."
The young man's deep and smooth whispered right beside his ear. At the same time, the barrel of a revolver was pressed firmly against the back of Antonio's head
"If I were you, I wouldn't make such a loud noise."
Antonio's heart sank to his stomach. The hand gripping his shoulder was deathly cold—so cold it was terrifying. His lips trembled as he fought to suppress the agony. His body was stiff, stripped of even the slightest strength to resist.
"W-who... who are you?"
Antonio managed to muster enough courage to ask the mysterious man. The fact that he was still alive despite the other party being able to handle him so easily meant the man before him had objectives other than taking his life.
"Take a guess,"
the mysterious man replied, his lips still curled into a smile as if the whole situation were nothing more than prank.
Antonio was speechless. No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn't find an answer. Perhaps it was because those who sought his life were simply too numerous to count.
"If you don't even try to guess, this game loses all its fun."
The young man shook his head before slowly reaching up to remove the silver mask that concealed his face.
"Y-you... How... how is this possible?"
Antonio's eyes, catching a glimpse of the face from the corner of his vision, nearly bulged out of their sockets. That face did not belong to anyone he ever expected to see standing here.
"Good evening. I'm your faithful legal counsel, Nicholas Parlay."
Nicholas spoke with a smile, bowing his head politely in greeting.
Antonio tried to piece together the story in his mind, but he couldn't find a single logical explanation.
To him, Nicholas was nothing more than a lowly, commoner—a mere tool easily manipulated by the promise of high society. Had the Cult not ordered him to contact this man, Antonio would never have even spared a glance at the insignificant insect before him.
Yet Nicholas had infiltrated this place with precision, leaving no witnesses. He had bypassed the strictest security, reaching Antonio soundlessly like a phantom.
The man standing behind him now was not 'Nicholas Parlay' that he had once known and manipulated, but someone completely different.
"I wonder if you've ever heard of a game called 'Russian Roulette'?"
Antonio shook his head vigorously in response. His back and face were now drenched in a cold sweat.
"Oh... my apologies. Of course, you wouldn't know," Nicholas exclaimed, as if he had only just realized something.
Whatever this 'Russian Roulette' was, Antonio instinctively felt it wouldn't be anything good for him.
Nicholas maintained a nonchalant air, as if they were merely two close friends caught in casual conversation. Yet, Antonio could see the lingering terror hidden deep within those eyes.
"Would you be interested in playing a little game with me?"
06.11.550
Nicholas Parlay
Spirit medium (Éna)