"The Sinclair family’s eldest son is definitely going to inherit the family business. To marry the eldest son... this girl is really something else."

"You can tell she’s a real piece of work just by looking at her."

"I’ve met the Sinclair family’s young master, a math genius... how could he have fallen for a girl with such a terrible reputation and a tainted past?"

"I hear this fake heiress of the Grant family is quite a looker, though."

"Prettier than the real heiress? She’d have to be a goddess, then."

"Hahahahaha! Maybe she has... exceptional talents in *other* areas."

In the corner, a few young playboys whispered among themselves.

The words had barely left their mouths when a glass of champagne was dumped over one of their heads.

"Fuck!"

The playboy in the red suit let out a string of curses as everyone whipped their heads around to find the culprit.

Simon Adler stood behind them, one hand in his pocket, an empty wine glass still held in the other.

Beside him stood Simon, a look of frustration on his face. He had clearly tried to stop him and failed.

Quickly schooling his features, Simon turned to meet the red-suited playboy’s furious gaze with a wide, placating smile.

"So sorry about that. My boss’s hand slipped. I can compensate you for a new suit and have someone take you upstairs to get cleaned up, how about that?"

"’His hand slipped?’ You were standing over a meter away! How the hell does a hand ’slip’ so precisely onto me?"

"I’m terribly sorry," Simon said with a wide, innocent-looking grin.

It almost looked like a genuine misunderstanding.

He even thoughtfully took a towel from a hotel staff member and began dabbing at the man’s suit.

The playboy eyed them suspiciously. "Fine, whatever. I’ll let it slide out of respect for the Sinclairs. But an apology is basic courtesy, isn’t it? Does a ’slip of the hand’ mean you don’t have to apologize?"

Anyone the Sinclair family invited was not someone to be trifled with. The playboy was well aware of this and didn’t want to make an enemy.

Still, he couldn’t just swallow the humiliation.

He had to get an apology, at least.

His whole crew was right there. He had to save face.

"Uh, here’s the thing." Simon didn’t even need to look at Simon Adler; he knew his boss was wearing that signature ’all mortals are insects’ scowl.

’An apology was definitely out of the question.’

’The fact that he hadn’t thrown the glass along with the champagne was him being polite.’

"My boss, you see..."

Simon struggled to find the right words, trying to resolve this quickly before it attracted more attention.

’After all, they were just guests here.’

’He couldn’t let this escalate. It would be terrible to ruin the host’s engagement party.’

Obviously, basic decorum was not something everyone possessed.

Simon Adler had clearly given this zero consideration.

The man casually placed his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

He took a step forward, apparently unwilling to let the matter drop.

He glanced down at the playboy in red, his tone matter-of-fact. "I should apologize for my hand slipping? Good thing, then. I did it on purpose."

He finished with a curse in Cantonese.

Meeting the other man’s baffled and shocked gaze, Simon Adler stuffed both hands in his pockets and leaned in slightly. "Don’t understand?"

The man helpfully translated, "I called you a fucking idiot."

"..."

Simon’s vision went dark. ’I’m quitting. I am quitting this job!’

"Fuck! Who the hell are you! Son of a bitch, you looking for a beating?!" The playboy in red instantly flew into a rage, rolling up his sleeves to start a fight.

He was ready to throw down!

Simon Adler stood his ground, perfectly calm. He didn’t even flinch, let alone dodge.

There it was again—that look that treated all of creation like ants.

Forget the playboy; even Simon wanted to land a couple of punches on him after seeing that look.

Lee appeared out of nowhere. The seemingly frail young woman took down the man in red with a single grappling move, pinning him to the floor.

Seeing their friend get taken down, the other playboys looked ready to jump in.

Simon quickly whipped out a business card with gold lettering and shoved it in their faces like a cop flashing his badge.

"My sincere apologies. This is my boss’s card. We can discuss any issues later. Let’s not ruin the engagement party."

Simon Adler’s business card, much like the man himself, radiated the arrogance of high society.

There was more than enough empty space on the card to list all of his job titles.

If he wanted, there was enough room for his phone number, maybe even his personal email.

In the end, looking at both the front and back, besides a phone number, there were only three words.

Hughes Corp—Simon Adler

Simple and clear.

The name was enough.

Sure enough, the group across from them fell silent.

The playboy in red didn’t know what was happening. He tentatively tried to lift his head, only to be shoved back down by Lee.

He couldn’t stop another curse from bursting out.

The next second, a foot slammed into his shoulder.

He howled in pain, struggling to look up at the crisply ironed cuffs of a man’s trousers.

Apparently given permission, Lee released him.

Only then could the playboy in red get a clear look at Simon Adler’s face.

The man’s gaze was contemptuous, looking down as if at a piece of trash. His eyes seemed to say, ’Go on. Make another sound.’

The man in red scrambled to his feet and was about to lunge forward, but his friends held him back.

His friends whispered something in his ear. When the man in red turned back around, his mouth twitched as he forced a sycophantic smile. "Ah, it’s Mr. Adler! My apologies, my deepest apologies. Was I in your way? I’m so sorry... Please, have a cigarette."

He obsequiously offered a cigarette.

Simon Adler took it, pinching the cigarette between his long, slender fingers.

Seeing this, the man in red sighed in relief, quickly cupping his hands to shield the flame as he lit it for him.

The tip of the cigarette glowed a flickering scarlet.

Normally, any sane person would take the offered escape route and let the matter die.

This was the point where it could have all ended.

But Simon Adler, of course, refused to grant him that courtesy.

"No need to apologize. You weren’t in my way. I just find you an eyesore."

As his words fell, a hush descended once more.

The smile on the man’s face froze solid.

As if oblivious to the tension crackling in the air, Simon Adler raised his hand and casually tucked the lit cigarette into the breast pocket of the man’s red suit.

"I won’t be smoking this. I’d rather not end up with a mouth as foul as yours."

———

Inside the restroom, Simon was screaming like a madman.

The man at the center of it all, however, was calmly washing his hands.

"Why? Why did you have to get physical with trash like that?"

"Even if it was for Miss Grant’s sake... you can’t control what people say. Besides, now that you’ve stood up for her, that disgusting guy is just going to start inventing new scenarios in his head."

"Who said it was for her?"

Simon Adler took a towel and looked at Simon’s reflection in the mirror.

The latter threw his hands up. "Why, why, why?"

"Don’t tell me it was for justice?" Simon gasped. "Are we the good guys now?"

Simon Adler tossed the towel at him.

The two had just exited the restroom when they ran into several hotel employees.

The thick smell of blood hung in the hallway. A liquid was dripping, rapidly absorbed by the dark-red, floral-patterned carpet.

A janitor was on their hands and knees cleaning, disinfecting, and deodorizing the spot.

Simon instantly tensed, but Simon Adler pushed him aside.

Then, they both saw the staff members carrying someone away.

The man being carried away had a face covered in blood. His eyes were shut tight, and he didn’t appear to be breathing.

Glancing down, Simon Adler saw the familiar red suit. There was a small, cigarette-burned hole in the breast pocket...

The next second, as if sensing something, Simon Adler turned his head to look down the other end of the corridor. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Yates Donovan was leaning against the wall, methodically wiping a small, exquisite Butterfly Knife with a silk handkerchief.

Sensing his gaze, this "guardian of love" glanced over, a smirk playing on his lips. "Good evening."