Chapter 40: Who is the Sage?
The big man's eyes rolled back and he passed out.
When he woke up, he found himself lying next to the fire. The pain in his body had subsided considerably. He looked down and saw that the wounds on his chest and arms had been properly rebandaged.
He wasn't surprised and closed his eyes again.
"I removed the bullets and redressed the wounds. You'll heal up with some rest."
Chuck added more wood to the fire and looked at the big man lying there, refusing to open his eyes and look at him.
"I don't need your help!"
the big man kept his eyes closed and sneered. "I wouldn't have died without you!"
"Those security guards attacked police officers, and I acted in self-defense."
Chuck ignored the man's sarcasm and continued while adding firewood. "I let the security captain go because I promised him safe passage if he told the truth. Texans don't cheat Texans."
"He's mine!"
the big man sat up and glared. "If you kill him, I'll kill you!"
That night, the security captain had been the most enthusiastic participant. He was clearly jealous of Sean's immediate success with Natalie, probably thinking he was just as good-looking and had been stationed there much longer without such luck. He was also probably motivated by sick fantasies, following that bastard Matt Olson's lead.
He had to kill that scumbag himself to settle the score.
Chuck said nothing.
Wasn't that the real meaning behind "Texans don't cheat Texans"?
"Do you understand where you went wrong?"
Chuck stirred the fire and looked at the big man through the flames.
"Let's hear it!"
the big man sneered. "I'm all ears!"
"First, you shouldn't be in this line of work,"
Chuck said calmly. "Being a bodyguard for these wealthy degenerates is wrong from the start. When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back—and you're not just staring, you're guarding it and hoping it won't corrupt you. You're also terrible at reading people. You shouldn't have gotten involved with this crew..."
Before he could finish, the big man interrupted with a sneer. "I do have a brother who could watch my back, but he hasn't even bothered to find me in all these years. Where else could I turn? Besides this crew, who else could I count on?"
"Frank,"
Chuck called out the big man's real name.
That's right!
The big man was Frank—Chuck's younger brother.
"My name isn't Frank!"
the big man shouted. "My name is Sean now!"
"Alright, Sean."
Chuck nodded, looked him in the eye, and asked seriously, "Why are you Sean?"
Frank was stunned and fell silent.
"I see you understand."
Chuck adjusted the firewood and said quietly: "You know what kind of world this is, and what you've been doing. You were worried about dragging family into it, so you changed your name early on."
"Don't tell me you couldn't find me because I changed my name?"
Frank said stubbornly: "I erased and modified all traces of my past existence. I even asked Dad—it wasn't him!"
"It was me."
Chuck didn't deny it.
"Of course it was you! Who else?!"
Frank said angrily: "Since you knew, why didn't you come find me all these years?! I'm your blood brother! Remember what Dad always told us? United we stand, divided we fall! From childhood on, I always had your back and supported you! I'm not just your brother—I was your best friend!"
"You are my brother."
Chuck corrected: "You were my best friend."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Frank was stunned and asked angrily, "You got yourself a new best friend now? Who is it?"
"Do you know what my name is now?"
Chuck didn't answer, but asked in return.
"Definitely not Christian anymore, right?"
Frank said coldly.
"You changed your name to protect people you care about."
Chuck said calmly, "To be more specific, you did it to protect Mom's safety, because Dad doesn't need your protection. What do you think I changed my name for?"
"..."
Frank stared at Chuck in disbelief, and after a long moment he laughed bitterly, "I changed my name to protect Mom. Did you change yours not only to protect Mom, but also to protect me?"
"Yes."
Chuck nodded, "Do you remember what our sensei said about you and me when we were training together under that martial arts master in the mountains?
He said I practiced martial arts to prevent violence and resolve conflicts through discipline, but you've been aggressive and hot-headed since childhood. After learning to fight, you became even more violent and reckless, which goes against the true way.
I didn't contact you all these years because I knew you'd end up on the path you're on now. Contacting you wouldn't have been safe for Mom or myself.
Now I work as a consultant and face countless dangers. I didn't contact you to protect you."
"Talk about doing it for my own good."
Frank sneered, "What's this about doing it for me? I don't need your protection at all."
"Look at your situation."
Chuck gestured to Frank's wounds. "If you were as capable as you think, would this have happened?
This is your second major mistake.
When faced with a crisis, you didn't act decisively and efficiently to control the situation. Instead, you were overwhelmed, allowing things to escalate into this tragedy.
It was just a spoiled rich kid with a bunch of incompetent security guards, and you ended up like this. What would happen if you faced truly dangerous and capable opponents?"
"It's not because I'm incompetent!"
Frank protested. "I had just been... intimate with Natalie multiple times... There were so many guys holding me down, I couldn't react properly."
"That's because you're not disciplined enough,"
Chuck said bluntly, unmoved.
"You don't get it!"
Frank's expression was pained, like a frustrated person trying to explain something complex to someone who'd never experienced it.
He remembered his brother as being somewhat detached from normal social interactions, unable to connect with others easily. His best and only friend since childhood had been his younger brother. How could he understand this situation?
Could his fighting ability in his normal state compare to his peak condition?
If he hadn't been in that vulnerable state, how could those idiots have restrained him?
Did they really think his physical strength, praised by their martial arts instructor, was just for show?
Were all the combat skills he'd learned under their father's strict training, including wrestling and grappling, just worthless?
The dramatic difference in fighting capability before and after was something only a man who'd truly experienced it could understand.
He couldn't explain this to his brother!
"It's just natural human biology,"
Chuck said dismissively. "If you're using that as an excuse, it only proves my choices were correct. You're undisciplined, yet you love getting into trouble, and in the end, the people you care about and who care about you are the ones who suffer."
"You knew about that?"
Frank noticed Chuck's knowing expression and stared at him in shock.
He no longer cared about Chuck's claim that his lack of discipline had caused all this.
His mind was reeling—his emotionally distant brother seemed to truly understand what he was talking about. And it wasn't just theoretical knowledge from reading about it, but the kind of understanding that came from real experience.
(End of chapter)
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