"Mr. Mark," Li Wei said, looking down at the silver treasure chest before him. "What's wrong?"
The silver treasure chest slowly lifted his head. His eyes, which usually sparkled with shrewd intelligence, were now filled with red veins. "Li Wei? You... what are you doing here?"
"Sorry, I... I'm not feeling well today," he said, swaying as he tried to stand and get away. "I don't think I can make it for lunch."
Li Wei didn't bother with words. He just grabbed Mark's shoulder with one hand.
'This is my treasure chest monster. I can't let him get away.'
Mark felt a vise grip clamp down on his shoulder, immobilizing him.
"Get in," Li Wei said, applying a little pressure and pushing the frail Merrill Lynch Securities partner—who made several million USD a year—into the Cullinan. "Whatever's going on, we'll talk about it after a drink."
「Ten minutes later, on the edge of Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen, outside an Irish pub that had yet to open for the day.」
