Chapter 2 · Sparing No One

I shouted, my voice shaking with anger. "Do you even know what a great guy he is?

"He just outshone you, but you were still born with a silver spoon in your mouth!

"What gives you the right to treat him this way? Seriously, who do you think you are to do this to him?"

Elliot watched me break down, totally unfazed.

He stayed silent for a long time before finally speaking, his voice quiet and calm. "That's exactly why he can't be allowed to live..."

But before he could finish, his face suddenly twisted in fear as he looked down.

I gritted my teeth and shoved the knife even closer, determined not to leave him any way out.

I spat, my voice cold. "Don't you realize? When someone has lost everything, there's nothing they won't do.

"I've been waiting for you here for days.

"Anyone who hurt him doesn't deserve to live."

People who did evil would always want to see for themselves when their wishes finally came true.

But Mason was gone. What right did this piece of trash have to be breathing?

I shoved him hard, and Elliot fell to the ground.

His eyes went wide in terror as he reached for his phone, his hand trembling.

I stomped down on his wrist, staring at him like he was just an insect. "You think you and your people have won?

"You all tried to crush him, but he still became someone you could never hope to control. In the end, he turned the tables and wiped out every single one of his enemies.

"Your father is nothing but a shameless bastard who had to kill his own brother just to claw his way to the top.

"And you? You're just a rat in the gutter, forever groveling in the shadows, wishing you could be Mason."

Elliot's eyes bulged with desperation, but he still begged desperately, "Help me... please... help me..."

I closed my eyes.

All I could think about was the last time I saw Mason, when he said he was going to visit the grave.

He walked out of the living room, out of the yard, never once looking back.

He was so determined to leave, but I didn't realize it at all.

I was even mad at him for leaving me behind and going to the cemetery by himself.

The last thing I ever said to him was, "Mason, I hate you! I really do!"

But that wasn't true. I loved him more than anything.

But he never gave me a chance to explain.

I was ten when Mason took me in.

He was just a teenager himself, after losing everything. They kept him trapped in the slums, so he had to live in a cardboard shack.

I followed him everywhere, but he'd glance back with that cold look and tell me to get lost.

But when we finally got to his place, he still gave me a hamburger, with that same cold look on his face.

The taste of the beef burger stuck with me for life.

I didn't realize until much later that it was actually his fifteenth birthday.

He'd bought that hamburger as a birthday treat for himself.

His mom was gone, but she used to say the day he was born was the happiest day of her life.

She always told him, "No matter what, you have to make your birthday special."

He handed me his birthday burger, and when he saw me wolfing it down with a look of pure satisfaction, he couldn't help but let a small, charming smile slip out, showing his dimples.

It might have been because I finally let myself relax for once, but that night I got sick with a fever.

When I finally came to, all groggy and confused, it was already the third day, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed.

Mason was sitting by my hospital bed, motionless, his eyes empty. Back then, I couldn't figure out what that heavy expression on his face really meant.

It wasn't until I grew up that it finally hit me.

That was utter despair.

In just two days, it was like he'd become someone else. He was just a shell of himself, all his spark gone.

For me, someone he didn't even know, he crushed his own pride and sold his soul and body to the devil so I could get treated in the hospital.

Back then, I was so afraid of being a burden to him that I insisted on being discharged from the hospital. He just let me have my way, quietly giving in.

But as we passed by the park's pond, he suddenly, as if something snapped, dove straight into the water.

The usually cold and distant boy just stayed in there, motionless, as the artificial waterfall crashed down on him.

With the roar of the water all around, he cried his heart out like a lost child.

At the time, I had no idea what was going on.

I just felt like he'd lost something that meant the world to him.

Not knowing what else to do, I just started crying with him.

After a long time, he finally walked out of the water, put his hand on my head, his face full of sorrow as he said, "My mom used to say, there has to be light in this world.

"I'm already living in hell, so you have to live the life I can't, and grow up for me."

We started sticking together, trying to survive.

We dug through trash for food and anything we could use, and to survive in the slums, we learned to fight with everything we had.

Whenever Mason managed to save up even a little money, he'd immediately start hustling, trying every trick in the book to kick off some business.

No matter how many times life tried to crush him, he'd get knocked down, fail, and then switch gears and come back swinging, never staying down for long.

Our lives were getting better, little by little.

We went from that old cardboard shack to a small house, and before we knew it, we'd left the slums behind and moved into a much nicer place.

For the next ten years, I never saw Mason cry again.

Little by little, he didn't need anyone's help anymore. People started to fear and respect him.

He got even more ruthless, and soon enough, everyone in the business world started calling him the "Business World's Reaper."

No matter how icy and ruthless Mason acted outside, the moment he stepped through the door, he'd always drop the tough guy act and give me that soft, gentle smile.

Chapter 2

I shouted, my voice shaking with anger. "Do you even know what a great guy he is?

"He just outshone you, but you were still born with a silver spoon in your mouth!

"What gives you the right to treat him this way? Seriously, who do you think you are to do this to him?"

Elliot watched me break down, totally unfazed.

He stayed silent for a long time before finally speaking, his voice quiet and calm. "That's exactly why he can't be allowed to live..."

But before he could finish, his face suddenly twisted in fear as he looked down.

I gritted my teeth and shoved the knife even closer, determined not to leave him any way out.

I spat, my voice cold. "Don't you realize? When someone has lost everything, there's nothing they won't do.

"I've been waiting for you here for days.

"Anyone who hurt him doesn't deserve to live."

People who did evil would always want to see for themselves when their wishes finally came true.

But Mason was gone. What right did this piece of trash have to be breathing?

I shoved him hard, and Elliot fell to the ground.

His eyes went wide in terror as he reached for his phone, his hand trembling.

I stomped down on his wrist, staring at him like he was just an insect. "You think you and your people have won?

"You all tried to crush him, but he still became someone you could never hope to control. In the end, he turned the tables and wiped out every single one of his enemies.

"Your father is nothing but a shameless bastard who had to kill his own brother just to claw his way to the top.

"And you? You're just a rat in the gutter, forever groveling in the shadows, wishing you could be Mason."

Elliot's eyes bulged with desperation, but he still begged desperately, "Help me... please... help me..."

I closed my eyes.

All I could think about was the last time I saw Mason, when he said he was going to visit the grave.

He walked out of the living room, out of the yard, never once looking back.

He was so determined to leave, but I didn't realize it at all.

I was even mad at him for leaving me behind and going to the cemetery by himself.

The last thing I ever said to him was, "Mason, I hate you! I really do!"

But that wasn't true. I loved him more than anything.

But he never gave me a chance to explain.

I was ten when Mason took me in.

He was just a teenager himself, after losing everything. They kept him trapped in the slums, so he had to live in a cardboard shack.

I followed him everywhere, but he'd glance back with that cold look and tell me to get lost.

But when we finally got to his place, he still gave me a hamburger, with that same cold look on his face.

The taste of the beef burger stuck with me for life.

I didn't realize until much later that it was actually his fifteenth birthday.

He'd bought that hamburger as a birthday treat for himself.

His mom was gone, but she used to say the day he was born was the happiest day of her life.

She always told him, "No matter what, you have to make your birthday special."

He handed me his birthday burger, and when he saw me wolfing it down with a look of pure satisfaction, he couldn't help but let a small, charming smile slip out, showing his dimples.

It might have been because I finally let myself relax for once, but that night I got sick with a fever.

When I finally came to, all groggy and confused, it was already the third day, and I found myself lying in a hospital bed.

Mason was sitting by my hospital bed, motionless, his eyes empty. Back then, I couldn't figure out what that heavy expression on his face really meant.

It wasn't until I grew up that it finally hit me.

That was utter despair.

In just two days, it was like he'd become someone else. He was just a shell of himself, all his spark gone.

For me, someone he didn't even know, he crushed his own pride and sold his soul and body to the devil so I could get treated in the hospital.

Back then, I was so afraid of being a burden to him that I insisted on being discharged from the hospital. He just let me have my way, quietly giving in.

But as we passed by the park's pond, he suddenly, as if something snapped, dove straight into the water.

The usually cold and distant boy just stayed in there, motionless, as the artificial waterfall crashed down on him.

With the roar of the water all around, he cried his heart out like a lost child.

At the time, I had no idea what was going on.

I just felt like he'd lost something that meant the world to him.

Not knowing what else to do, I just started crying with him.

After a long time, he finally walked out of the water, put his hand on my head, his face full of sorrow as he said, "My mom used to say, there has to be light in this world.

"I'm already living in hell, so you have to live the life I can't, and grow up for me."

We started sticking together, trying to survive.

We dug through trash for food and anything we could use, and to survive in the slums, we learned to fight with everything we had.

Whenever Mason managed to save up even a little money, he'd immediately start hustling, trying every trick in the book to kick off some business.

No matter how many times life tried to crush him, he'd get knocked down, fail, and then switch gears and come back swinging, never staying down for long.

Our lives were getting better, little by little.

We went from that old cardboard shack to a small house, and before we knew it, we'd left the slums behind and moved into a much nicer place.

For the next ten years, I never saw Mason cry again.

Little by little, he didn't need anyone's help anymore. People started to fear and respect him.

He got even more ruthless, and soon enough, everyone in the business world started calling him the "Business World's Reaper."

No matter how icy and ruthless Mason acted outside, the moment he stepped through the door, he'd always drop the tough guy act and give me that soft, gentle smile.