"Sir, the car is ready."
As I was speaking, I knocked on the door of a man's bedroom I've been working as a secretary for, Fillan Torrelei. From there, just slightly, I heard some unusual noises of the bed creaking, objects slapping, and the sinister laughing of an old man.
I glanced at my watch. Fillan and I have an important appointment to be attending in two hours. There was a possibility that he had already forgotten about it even though I just told him this morning, and since I received no response, I decided to get into his bedroom.
"Sir, I'm coming in-"
Unable to continue my words, I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. While holding back the urge to vomit as I gritted my teeth, I hid my shock behind my rough breaths. The small noises I was hearing from outside were now becoming louder and clearer as I witnessed the actual scene.
I immediately turned my head away. My shaky gaze captured a calendar on the table informing me of the date that it had been four years since the first day I left my house for this mission; investigating the underworld and gathering as much as information possible about the underground businesses.
True. It's already been four years since I became Fillan Torrelei's secretary, and yet my reaction told me that even after all those periods and experiences, it wasn't enough for me to get used to it. Even being a twenty-six-year-old adult this year, I still couldn't avoid shaking like a child every time I faced the image of Fillan grinding down a young boy whose mouth was gagged with a toy, not even allowed to scream. The prostitute boy he brought home was different from the other time. And the times before. And before…
In the realization that it was already too late to cry over spilled milk, the best thing I did was to reject my sensitive hearing and what my vision had captured, and so I shut my eyes, obscuring the display in front of me.
"Sir…"
Fillan halted and turned in my direction the moment he heard my voice. The terrible sounds he created just a few seconds ago suddenly turned into an angry grunt when he spotted an uninvited guest standing by his door. I tried to stay calm as he began to curse my very existence with his fierce gaze.
"Sir, the car is ready. We are going to have a meeting with Mr. Yerevan at-"
"Get out."
I gathered my guts to talk, but Fillan instructed me to leave before I could even finish my sentence.
"But, Sir, we have an important appointment with Mr. Yerev-"
"Are your ears just for decoration?" Fillan cut me in again, the severity of his rage making me alarmed. "Unless you don't mind changing place with this boy, get the hell out of here, Asta."
Finally, the words I couldn't ignore had been spoken. It wasn't my first time hearing something like that from my boss, but every time I could feel the fear in my eyes waiting to take over. Perhaps, my anxiety only wanted to warn me about the upcoming misfortune.
"Don't look so scared. You know I won't lay a hand on you, right?" Fillan guaranteed, sure of it, although there was a threat behind his words. "You're beautiful, it's a lie if I say you aren't, but just not my type... If only you were fifteen years younger, I might have stopped ordering these boys for the past four years. Right, Asta?"
In a subconscious gesture of disgust, my brows wrinkled and I had to hold myself not to draw my head backward. It was an insult and an ultimatum in one, and I was too sick to know what was going on in his ugliest damn brain.
"Well then, Sir," I bowed down in dismay and immediately walked out of his bedroom.
Fuck!
I groaned in my head as I punched the wall in the corridor, gritting my teeth at the prickling pain.
After all those efforts to destroy the underworld business of minor prostitution, how could he still get those boys?! It never ends…!
Fillan has never been less than arrogant. If he does stuff that he thinks he can, maybe "confidence" would have been a better word. It isn't, though.
He's been brought up with a lame belief that he's superior to everyone else by virtue of his birth. The reason he chose minors must be because they're vulnerable and can't do much to fight back - he's the worst kind of human alive. If I were, or if there were someone younger than him, yet strong enough to destroy the arrogance of this man, I'm sure it would be a good lesson for him…
I could feel the vein pulsing against my forehead as the blood rushed to my face, so I just leaned against the wall for a moment to calm my nerves.
***
The sun had already set hours ago when Fillan and I left his manor to the appointed venue. As I hit the brake, the car stopped in front of a luxurious hotel. I first got down and opened the door for him.
"Who is meeting me tonight?" Fillan asked me while yawning, totally uninterested. Just as I thought, he completely forgot about it.
"Mr. Marvel Yerevan," I replied without even checking my notes, already memorizing it as I had spelled the name over and over today.
"What? Marvel Yerevan, you said?!" Fillan shrieked with horror, as if I just said something that scared him. "Asta, why don't you tell me sooner?!"
The old man righted his suit and hair frantically, checking on his flabby and bulky reflection in the car mirror. His sleepy eyes completely sparked, even his brows became rigid, like someone just splashed cold water onto his face. I wasn't sure if the reason was the name itself but seeing Fillan panicked just by hearing it, I somehow could guess what kind of person Marvel Yerevan was.
"I informed you this morning and about two hours ago, Sir," I reminded him even though it would offend him since he was currently in a foul mood.
"So, you're saying it's my fault that I forgot about it?" Fillan glared at me from the car mirror, delivering a furious hiss as I was standing behind him.
"It's my mistake as your secretary, Sir. I apologize," I bowed down rather unapologetically.
"Fuck!" Fillan bit his lip in aggravation, kind of jittery. "It's definitely your fault if I die tonight, Asta!"
I silently hummed, skeptical of it.
If there were someone powerful enough to easily kill Fillan Torrelei, that person must have a definite position in the underworld. It would be advantageous if I could use someone like that to get rid of this pig…
Marvel Yerevan, huh?
Come to think of it, I've heard that name before, but I'm not sure if they're the same person… I stopped my thoughts, cleared my mind for now, and made sure to check on it once the meeting ended.
A soft ding resounded before the elevator doors automatically opened, bringing Fillan and me to the top floor. We walked through the corridor in haste until we arrived in front of a private room.
"The password," a muscular man in a black outfit who was standing by the private room door asked us in his raspy voice.
"I prefer neat whiskey to wine," Fillan leaned in closer to him, spelling the password in a low voice.
The muscular man who guarded the door closely stared at us and there was an interlude of silence; the absence of sound that was unavoidable. I was almost sure Fillan said the wrong password as it sounded very odd.
That old man forgets things easily, especially the detailed ones, unless he knows it's something important. And from the way he conveyed the password firmly and carefully, I knew it was very important.
"Mr. Yerevan has been waiting for you, Mr. Torrelei," the guardsman confirmed as he pushed the door open for Fillan and me to enter.
The private meeting room was uncomfortably wide and lavish, concealed in the deepest part of the corridor, as it should be. I scanned for a personal touch. It was a perfect place, but cold in its tranquility. The floor was high-polished ceramic tiles, free of either dust or scratch. It was almost impossible to take a step without worrying about grazing upon its luster.
The thick velvet curtains were silky linen, untouched by hands and devoid of wrinkles, hiding the long windows across the wall, leaving a shy peak of the world beyond. Two antique chairs stood on the opposite sides of a table, and one of them had already been taken by a figure.
"What took you so long? Did you find a cuter boyfriend than me so that you didn't want to come to our date tonight?"
Fillan was thrown the sarcasm as soon as he walked into the meeting room. A cold, sassy comment slipped in the air regarding something he surely understood.
It was from the man sitting and holding a glass of whiskey with another man whom I could tell was his secretary, standing in a proper manner beside him.
"Mr. Torrelei, you're twenty minutes late," the secretary informed Fillan generously.
"Oh, isn't that my first time to wait that long, Gill? Tell him how I nearly died out of loneliness here," added that man again, feigning suffering as he whined to his secretary in his chair.
"I've come to the phase where I easily forget about a lot of things…" Fillan giggled apologetically while I was preparing his seat. "It's just… my old head thing, if you know what I mean, Mr. Yerevan."
I flinched when I learned what Fillan was addressing that man as. Disbelieving, I quickly shifted my eyes to the person sitting across from Fillan, and the scene was quite surprising, shocking even.
Huh? So, this young man is…
"Hmm…" He whom I was looking at hummed in a low tone, whatever expression on his face had already been replaced with a scornful gaze. "And right now, I feel like planting a bullet in that old head of yours, if you know what I mean, Fillan Torrelei."
Marvel Yerevan?!