Javon laughed. It was a cold, humorless laugh that made the scarred man on the ground tremble violently.
"Nocturnal Hall?" Javon repeated, as if savoring the name on his tongue. "Of all the names you could have used, you chose the worst possible one to say in front of me."
He crouched down, pressing the cold barrel of a gun against the thug's uninjured hand. "You have two hands," he whispered, his voice terrifyingly calm. "One is already broken. Want to try your luck with the other one?"
"N-no! I'm not lying!"
Javon didn't reply. He just pressed the barrel a little harder. The man could feel the chill of the steel seemingly seeping into his bones. A terror worse than any pain gripped him.
"Alright! Alright! I'll talk!" he screamed in panic. "We're from the Proteus Society! Not Nocturnal Hall! A mysterious client paid us to kill you! I swear!"
He hastily explained that naming Nocturnal Hall was a tactic to divert Javon's potential revenge toward a larger power, hoping the two would destroy each other. A cunning tactic that had unfortunately hit the wrong target.
Javon patted the man's cheek with the gun barrel. "Next time, do your research better."
Watching the scene, Sherly, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. "Javon, that's enough," she said, her voice anxious. "Don't kill him."
"I know my limits," Javon replied without turning his head.
"That's not it!" Sherly interjected. "You just got out. Don't let them pull you back into the darkness. The Forger family needs you."
Javon paused. He looked at Sherly, saw the genuine fear in her eyes—not fear of these thugs, but fear for him. He sighed. "Sherly, you can't cure cancer by putting a plaster on it. Cancer has to be cut out at the root."
He stood up and yelled at the sprawled-out thugs. "Get up! Stop playing dead!"
A few of the conscious men scrambled painfully to their feet, their heads bowed in fear.
"You're going to take me to your headquarters," Javon commanded.
Sherly's eyes widened in horror. "What are you doing?! You're going to storm their den alone? That's suicide, Javon! Two hands can't fight dozens of men, especially if they have guns!"
"How can I not worry? I'm your..." Sherly stopped herself, realizing what she had almost said. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration. "Anyway... you should call the police!"
Javon looked at her, and a rare, genuine smile appeared on his face. "I promise you, when I put a ring on your finger, you will stand tall to receive it. And the entire city will see you, not as a victim, but as a queen reclaiming her throne."
The promise was so powerful and personal it left Sherly speechless. A mixture of anger, anxiety, and a strange, warm feeling frustrated her. "Do whatever you want!" she snapped. "If you want to die, go ahead! Don't blame me if the Forger family goes extinct because of you!"
She spun her wheelchair around sharply and left, leaving Javon to watch her departure with a helpless sigh.
"It's not that I want to fight," he muttered to himself. "But they're not giving me a choice. Letting them go now is like releasing a tiger back into the mountains." He pulled out his phone. "And luckily, I'm not fighting alone."
His finger stopped on a nameless number he had saved for five years. A number he had never dared to call until now. He pressed it.
On the third ring, the call was answered. A calm, professional woman's voice came through. "Herera here."
"It's me," Javon said.
There was a brief silence on the other end, as if the world had stopped spinning. Then, the woman's voice returned, now filled with deep respect. "Chief? We await your orders."
The title felt strange on Javon's tongue, but he had no time for that. "Herera, I need resources in Selvana. Activate 'Protocol Black'."
"Understood, Chief," Herera replied without hesitation. "The Shadows will be mobilized."
The call ended. Javon slipped the phone into his pocket, feeling the power of a giant organization now at his fingertips. This was the power bequeathed to him by Herera, his fourth mentor from the Black Coral Prison, the true controller of Nocturnal Hall.
Javon lightly kicked the scarred man's leg. "Lead the way," he commanded coldly. "And pray that I'm in a good mood when we arrive."
***
Meanwhile, Sherly returned to the Edelweiss family villa, her heart in turmoil.
As soon as her anger subsided, an overwhelming sense of regret and worry washed over her. What if something happened to Javon?
She immediately called for the butler who had always been loyal to her. "Quickly! Get some security guards, find Javon! I'm worried something has happened to him!"
"Looking for who?"
A cynical voice cut through her command. Her bedroom door was pushed open harshly. Aleesha stood there, smirking with a mocking gaze.
"Looking for your convict lover? Sherly, Sherly... worry about yourself first. You haven't actually fallen for him, have you?"