Well, Hello.
Snow was startled by the small chak and groan of the iron gates. He straightened up when he saw it open and walked in, throwing a side glance at the attendant and ignoring the rest of the men.
“Well?” Snow asked smugly.
“Ha, ha,” The attendant laughed awkwardly. “I’m really sorry for the delay, sir, I just had to check, so I wouldn’t be in trouble.”
“Mn.” Snow threw his gaze away from the fidgeting man, not paying him any attention anymore.
After that small exchange, a guard walked up to Snow and gestured his hand forward in a ‘right this way’ motion, then lead him towards the vast opening inside the gates.
Back inside the estate, the man with the tablet moved quickly through the halls, his boots echoing against the polished stone floor. He cut corners, making sure to take the quickest way. His breath drew tight with urgency, until he reached the open expanse of the main entrance. He quickly twisted the handle of the door and entered.
There, just beyond the towering doors, a spectacle unfolded.
Dorian, the man the boss had brought back last night, was on the ground. His ruined leg bent at an unnatural angle, his body soaked with blood. He was still alive, but just barely. Quite commendable that he still hung on to his dear life. The new recruits surrounded him like a wake of vultures, nibbling violently on prey. Their fists and boots landing in vicious rhythm, each blow drew another scream, another plea for mercy.
Against the wall, Sulien leaned with the ease of a man merely watching a street performance. He was supposed to leave for an urgent matter that morning, but his men had surprised him with a morning show in the estate’s foyer. Seeing that he could spare an hour or two, he stayed to watch the spectacle and indulge the new recruits.
Sulien smiled at the scene, his pale eyes half-lidded with amusement. Grimm, as always, stood close by, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze unreadable.
The man with the tablet approached carefully, making sure he didn’t interrupt or disturb Sulien’s show. He skirted behind Grimm before tapping him once on the arm to get his attention.
“Sir,” he whispered, bowing his head slightly as he held out the tablet. “A boy came looking for the boss. I recognized him from the other day so I told security to let him in. But I’m not sure if it was the right thing to do so I came to report it.”
Grimm’s head whipped slowly toward him. His brow pulled low. “What boy?”
The man quickly put on the feed and turned the screen to Grimm. “This one.”
The live feed flickered, showing the pale-skinned figure stepping calmly on the pathway that led to the building. His coat, which he recognized as the same ones Sulien wore yesterday, pulled around him loosely. There was no mistaking it. That was Snow.
Grimm’s jaw tightened. He took the tablet with one hand and flicked his fingers in dismissal. “Go.”
The man bowed his head again and backed away, taking the same way he came in.
Grimm wasted no time. He strode over to Sulien, lowering his voice as he held the tablet close. “Sir, Snow is here.”
Sulien hummed distractedly, his gaze never leaving the bloody display before him. “Mm.”
Grimm looked at him incredulous, his face turning dark. “Sir,” Grimm pressed, sharper this time. He angled the tablet so Sulien could see. “Snow. Is. Here. He’s already walking toward the building.”
The glow of the screen lit Sulien’s face. For a moment he stared blankly at the feed, at the boy who moved with that irritating composure even while walking into unknown territory. Then he lifted his eyes, gaze sweeping over the scene in front of him.
On the dark marbled floor, Dorian lay bloodied. The recruits panted with excitement, their boots stained with red. The floor itself was slick and splatted with blood. It looked more like an execution ground than the foyer of a house.
Sulien’s expression soured when he realised that Snow was close. His voice dropped low, almost faint. “Clean this up.”
The recruits faltered, mid-strike, looking at one another in confusion. One of them still had Dorian’s collar bunched in his fist.
Sulien’s eyes snapped toward them, his glare burning like a knife through glass. He barked this time, sharp and commanding. “Are you all fucking deaf? I said clean this up!”
The room jolted into motion, boots scraping and mops dragging blood across stone. Recruits shoved each other aside as they tried to erase the gore, dragging Dorian’s limp body like a sack of grain. The air filled with frantic movement. It was a sudden, desperate attempt to erase the evidence of what had transpired.
Sulien stood unmoving in the middle of it all, his pale eyes narrowing at the tablet still in Grimm’s grip, locked on the boy in the grainy feed.
A beat passed. Then another.
The corner of Sulien’s mouth twitched. A sound, low and sharp, slipped past his teeth. He let out a laugh, rich with something unreadable. It was not warm, nor mocking. It was the kind of laugh that made the nearest recruits stiffen mid-motion, the kind that told them their boss was not furious, not even mildly inconvenienced. He was entertained.
Grimm’s gaze flicked toward him, narrowing. He knew that laugh.
Sulien tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving the form of the boy. His voice was quiet but carried, filling every corner of the hall. “Our guest should not be kept waiting.”
The men froze again, then scrambled even faster, like ants under boiling water. The blood, the body, the violence that had occurred, should all be shoved away, hidden without a single trace.
By the time the echo of footsteps approached from the front, the foyer looked almost respectable again.
Some one sprayed an air freshener before the towering doors opened with a deep groan of steel and wood. Cold air from outside swept in, scattering the heavy scent of blood that still lingered faintly.
Snow stepped through.
His coat was pulled close around him, stray hair brushing his temples as he glanced briefly at the cavernous hall. His steps were calm, almost careless, as though walking into a stranger’s home was no more significant than entering a café.
The men lining the walls shifted unconsciously, others stiffening like statues. It was not because of Snow’s presence itself—he was just a boy, after all. But because of the way their boss straightened, the way his eyes lit with something sharp and hungry. They had thought the police had come to raid their place when they heard Sulien’s order to clean up the place, but had never expected it to be just one person. Still, this person seemed to be someone important in their bosses eyes.
Sulien lit up a cigar and inhaled slowly, the ember flaring bright. He exhaled through his nose, smoke ghosting the edges of his smile.
“Well,” his voice unfurled, silk over steel, “look who’s come knocking. The little fox actually came.”
The sound echoed across marble and stone.
Snow’s eyes which were wandering, taking in the new space slid toward Sulien. A faint curve tugged at the corner of his lips as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
“Well, if it isn’t Sully.”
The Author has Something to Say
Author: Sulien, You’re smiling too wide. Stop.
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