The teenager called “Boss” had no interest in this and said with an impatient scowl, “You guys can’t even walk straight when you see a woman. Didn’t we agree to hit the dance hall today?”
The group of thugs around him shrank back, too intimidated to respond. The fat man forced an awkward smile, and a chilly silence settled over the scene.
But the burly man, clearly more at ease with the teenager, barked out carelessly, “We’re all brothers here! Playing at the dance hall or messing around right here—it’s all the same. Let’s just have some fun and be done with it!”
Suddenly, though, they noticed the street had gone quiet except for their own racket. The girl they’d been eyeing was nowhere to be seen.
“Damn it, when did she slip away?”
“Bad luck, that’s what! I told you lot to keep it down—now we don’t even know when she bolted!” the burly man laughed, smacking the fat man upside the head.
The fat man clutched his forehead, wincing in pain. “Ow! Black Mountain, you don’t even know your own strength—damn, that hurts!”
The teenager cast a helpless glance at his rowdy crew and snapped, “Enough already—she’s gone. Let’s move. If you want women, they’re a dime a dozen anywhere.”
With that, the group shrugged it off like nothing had happened and shuffled away from the street together.
At the dance hall, the proprietress herself came out to greet the brothers, while curious eyes occasionally darted toward the teenager leading the pack.
His name was Xavier von Forbes. His father was a big shot, a high-ranking official in Dante City, and with that kind of backing, this kid could run wild without consequence.
He was a prodigy, gifted at everything since he was a child. But he was also a born savage, convinced that might makes right in this world and that blood was the ultimate answer to any problem.
Dante City wasn’t much to speak of—a backwater town in the kingdom, far from prosperous. Law and order were loose here, and the underworld thrived in a tangled mess. Yet, despite their youth, Xavier and his gang had already carved out a name for themselves as players in this city.
Xavier had it all: strength, ruthlessness, a touch of madness, and a family with clout. His crew, though? Aside from Black Mountain—a hulking brute with real fighting chops—the rest were just run-of-the-mill hoodlums. Still, even small fry can ride high when they latch onto someone like Xavier. Somehow, they’d stumbled into his orbit, and for years now, they’d been living large.
Take Park, for instance. He was the last to join the group, and meeting Xavier had been pure luck.
Maybe it was because he didn’t have the cocky greed of most young punks. Instead, he kept his head down, played it smart, and offered just enough flattery to keep Xavier and the others happy. It worked—he got by decently. Even the lowlifes who used to sneer at him now had to give him a nod of respect.
His skin was rough, pocked with big pores that made him look like a toad. His hair was worse—greasy and slick, always shining and stinking. That’s why everyone called him “Greasy Head.”
“Greasy Head, damn it, grab more wine! Can’t you see we’re dry over here?” one of them barked.
A scrawny, stick-thin guy, face flushed red from drinking, clutched his glass. Every sip came with a loud grunt, followed by a heavy slam of the cup back onto the table.
The rest of the crew was busy—some groping the women next to them, others horsing around. Black Mountain, built like a gorilla, tore into a slab of meat, while Xavier sat quietly, as always, nursing his drink.
“Right, right, on it!” Park chirped, hopping up to head for the counter.
Back in the day, he couldn’t have dreamed of wasting money in a place like this. Growing up, all he knew was an empty shack and a drunk father who stumbled home every few days to pass out.
If he hadn’t scavenged scraps off the streets or swiped food from kids weaker than him, he’d have starved long ago.
As an adult, Park had no real skills to speak of. His rotten reputation didn’t help either—no one was going to waste time on a newbie like him. So he drifted, scraping by just enough to not keel over.
Then he crossed paths with Xavier and the others. Somehow, he became one of the “brothers.” They’d curse and clown around together, eat and drink, and when fights broke out, Xavier and Black Mountain handled it. Park barely had to lift a finger.
He got by, same as everyone else around here. If you weren’t born with a silver spoon, you learned to be vile and tough to survive.
After a stretch of good days with the gang, Park had filled out a bit. His spirits were higher than they’d ever been.
He grabbed the wine and headed back. The dance hall blazed with light, the blaring music rattling his eardrums. Setting the bottles on the table, he couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at the boss.
Xavier sat there, calm and still. His looks stood out—sharp and handsome, a cut above the grimy, leering thugs around him. Yet, oddly, he was the only one without a woman at his side.
Even Black Mountain, wild as a barbarian, had a shaky little thing next to him, quick to refill his cup the second he drained it. Around here, it was a point of pride—everyone else had a girl to flaunt at the table. Going without? That was a disgrace.
Xavier didn’t care. To him, women were weak, and he had no use for weakness.
In this world, guys like the boss would always be on top, Park figured. That arrogance, that raw power—maybe only men like him could rule everything?
Park’s world was small—just Dante City—and in his eyes, Xavier was a god come down to earth. Brilliant, untouchable.
As if he felt the stare, Xavier glanced up at Park.
“Man, boss, you’re seriously good-looking, haha!” Park blurted out with a laugh.
Their eyes locked for a second, and he scrambled to cover the awkwardness of gawking at another guy.
The table erupted in laughter at his words, the mood lighting up again.
Meanwhile…
“I’m so hungry I’m starting to hallucinate…”
Aino hadn’t eaten in a full day. At this point, even a filthy stray dog would look like a feast she’d devour without hesitation.
It hadn’t been this bad before… but then she’d run into that gang of thugs a while back.
The first guy was nothing special—just average, nothing to write home about. But then his buddies showed up, and one of them was built like a tank. She could practically taste the dense, chewy muscle and the hot, pulsing blood in him.
The real prize, though, was their “boss.” His blood was something else entirely—like fiery liquor next to the plain water of regular people.
The instant she laid eyes on him, Aino wanted to sink her teeth into him.
Strength-wise, she didn’t think he was that much tougher than the rest. Or maybe he was, and the difference was just too subtle to notice when everyone’s baseline was so low?
Could you tell the difference between the weight of one ant and two? It’s double, sure, but still nothing much.
Still, something about him screamed delicious. It was like his blood was a cut above, higher quality somehow.
She needed to find something to eat soon—waiting any longer would spell trouble.
—
– 楔瓦尔·冯·福布斯 (Xiewaer·Feng·Fubusi): Adapted to “Xavier von Forbes”
– 黑山 (Hēi Shān): “Black Mountain”
