21: HNH Associates (I)
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The air in the room was cold—cold enough to bite through skin.
The half-Mexican man sat back in a leather seat, one leg bouncing, breath curling in the freezing air. His hands flexed on the armrest like he was holding back the urge to break something.
"James Lee," the man said, voice low, dangerous. "The last man you mentioned… who the fuck is he? Why are we waiting for him?"
James Lee's gaze didn't flinch. His voice was sharp, controlled.
"Mr. Miguel," he said. "When he walks in… you'll know."
Miguel's brow furrowed. "That's cryptic as shit."
A smirk tugged at James Lee's lips. He closed his eyes for a second, raising one hand lazily.
"Be patient. I expected him here already."
Miguel was about to press again when the sound hit the room—footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. The kind of walk that said, I'm not rushing for anyone.
The entire room went quiet, eyes shifting toward the door.
It opened.
He stepped in—tall, lean muscle under a long black coat. Black trousers, crisp white shirt, brownish-black boots that hit the floor with a solid thunk. His hair fell over one eye, shadowing it. The other eye was flat. Dead. A predator's eye with the soul burned out.
One hand in his pocket, the other gripping his coat, he didn't scan the room. Didn't even blink. He walked straight to the center, stopped in front of the table, and stood there—motionless. No hesitation.
Behind him came a figure like a living wall—Nobure Yappington—silent, still, a shadow following its owner.
Miguel's eyes lit up with excitement. He leaned forward, elbows on the table.
The Japanese-speaking man——let out a slow, almost amused smile, lips curling like he'd just seen something rare.
The man in the fur coat——didn't move, his half-covered face betraying nothing but a faint, cold interest.
Across the room, the only woman present watched with sharp, calculating eyes.
James Lee smiled. A rare one. Not warm—predatory. The kind you'd see on a hyena that just stole a lion's cub.
"Yuujin Jin," James Lee said, and the name hit the room like a hammer.
Every head turned.
Miguel didn't take his eyes off him. "Is this the guy?"
James Lee nodded once.
Miguel smirked, leaning into his palm. "You're smaller than I expected." Trying to taunt.
Yuujin didn't so much as glance his way. His eyes stayed on James Lee—cold, locked, unblinking.
The smirk slid off Miguel's face.
James Lee stepped forward, stopping beside Miguel.
"Meet Mr. Yuujin Jin," he said, his voice dropping an octave.
The air thickened, colder.
"One who easily defeated the son of Gapryong Kim… Kitae Kim."
Gasps broke the silence.
The Japanese Speaking man let out a sharp whistle. The Fur Coat's eyes finally widened a fraction. The woman's gaze sharpened.
Miguel blinked once, then exhaled, his breath visible in the cold. His tone carried disbelief and a hint of respect he didn't want to admit.
"You know what the fuck you're saying, James Lee?"
James Lee's smirk only deepened.
Miguel's voice dropped, almost a growl.
"He beat that axe-swinging psychopath? Killer Kim?"
James Lee didn't answer—just kept smiling, eyes squinted in that dangerous way that promised nothing good.
The tension in the cold room thickened like frost on glass.
Miguel's fist clenched so tight his knuckles turned pale, the tendons in his forearm twitching. His jaw locked, eyes drilling into James Lee.
James didn't move—didn't even flinch. Just stood there with that smug, snake-like smile.
Miguel's voice dropped low, deep, slow, dangerous.
"I'm asking again… James Lee. Did this fucker actually beat Killer Kim?"
James chuckled under his breath, like Miguel had just asked the dumbest thing in the world.
"I shouldn't be saying this…" His gaze tilted downward toward Miguel, the smile thinning into a blade.
"…Are you slow?"
Miguel's face twisted in rage. He shot up from his chair and lashed out—a vicious kick aimed straight for James Lee's chest.
BAM.
The sound echoed across the room like a gunshot.
The Japanese Speaking man's lips curled into a grin, his eyes lighting up with that predator's thrill.
Fur Coat's eyes widened slightly—second time all night.
The woman in the corner smirked slightly, just enough for the corners of her mouth to dip.
Miguel's boot hit solid impact—but not on James Lee.
Standing between them now was a wall of muscle and rage. Crexa Franklin. The man's forearm had caught the kick like steel catching steel.
Miguel's eyes twitched. "Tch—"
Crexa's eyes narrowed, his jaw flexing as his body shifted forward. He was about to lunge—about to rip Miguel apart right there—
Until James raised a hand.
"Crexa. I'll let this one go. Don't do anything."
Crexa froze, his glare still burning holes in Miguel, before stepping back slowly, reluctantly, like a caged animal retreating.
James Lee adjusted his coat collar with one hand, calm, precise. Then he stepped closer to Miguel, just enough for the shadows of his face to eclipse his smile. His voice came out deep, sharp, and cold enough to cut.
The stared into Miguel's soul, not his eyes
"As I said… I'll let this one go."
The words weren't a promise—they were a warning.
The room stayed silent. The only sound was the faint hum of the Air Conditioner and Miguel's breathing, heavy in the frozen air.
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Next Chapter- 22:James Lee's Funding...