Marcel sat down on the wooden bench with his gloves resting on his knees. This room was much calmer and quieter than when compared to the noise outside. He pushed his damp hair back. His eyes were unfocused and lost in thought. He was calm, too calm for a man about to fight an unknown opponent. From the looks of it, he wasn't at all worried.
His dream when he moved here had been simple. He wanted a quiet life running his small business and providing a safe home for his sister and Leo. He wanted to give Leo a life much happier than the life they lived. But the moment he signed the papers to buy the space for the gym and the home they would live in, he realized that for someone like him, peace was a privilege he would never be granted in this life. No matter where he went, trouble would follow him.
Before the ink was even dry on the papers, Lira caught some rich moron's attention, and the man wouldn't take no for an answer, stalking Lira everywhere she went.
After she repeatedly refused him, he grew bolder. Lira, trying to protect Marcel from more burdens, kept silent. That is, until the day Leo vanished from daycare. Her panicked call had nearly broken him.
While Marcel was using all his resources to find Leo, the man had sent Lira a message saying that he had been kind enough to pick Leo up. Marcel, when he read the message, saw red like a bull fueled by rage. Negotiation was never his way. He was the type to strike first, then ask questions later. He retrieved Leo, but the retaliation came swiftly. That man was no ordinary person; he was the mayor's son-in-law.
Marcel had survived his harsh childhood by knowing how to bend and stretch. He smoothed things over and came to an agreement with them. It was at this moment that he realized that without power, he and his family could never live a peaceful life. Peace was an illusion without power. It was for this reason that over the years, he had entangled himself with wealthy and official circles in Marico. Despite all of this trouble, it still came to his doorstep.
Like this Ren guy. It wasn't about the nephew he had clashed with earlier that afternoon. It was about pride, about putting Marcel "in his place." But Marcel had no intention of letting that happen. The door opened, and Archie walked in holding gauze and tape in his hand. He was so worried that he couldn't hide it. It was written all over his face. "Boss, do you really have to do this yourself?" he asked. Marcel didn't look at him as he replied, "How many times do you have to say it?"
Archie sighed, his shoulders slumping. He was fully aware of Marcel's condition. His body had scars from the past, and there were wounds that would never fully heal. That was why he was trying to convince him to sit this one out, but Marcel was stubborn. His stubbornness was born deep.
Archie started wrapping Marcel's hands, his movements careful and tentative. "Fine, just end it as fast as you can and watch out for dirty tricks... Anyone who hangs around that douchebag isn't upright."
Marcel smirked as he said, "You are acting like an old mother. You worry too much."
Archie's expression stiffened as he looked up at Marcel. He sighed in resignation and said, "Yeah, yeah. I am an old mother. If I don't worry about you, who else will?"
Marcel chuckled, the sound low. "Don't worry. I will end it quickly, and then we can all go have dinner together," he said, knowing full well this foodie wouldn't be able to resist.
As expected, Archie's eyes lit up like a lightbulb, and he asked, "Are you paying?"
Marcel raised a brow and said, "What do you think?"
Archie grinned like a fool, already drooling over what to eat. "There's a new place two streets over. A BBQ joint. I have always wanted to try it."
"Mm," Marcel replied, flexing his wrapped hands.
Archie checked his work and nodded. "That looks good."
Suddenly, a knock came from the door and a curly head of hair peeked through. "Boss, they are here. And they are making trouble."
Archie scowled as he folded his arms. "They better not break any shit, Curly," he said, his tone serious. He prided himself on keeping the gym prim and proper; he wouldn't tolerate any disrespect.
Toni, the curly-haired man, rebuked him, saying, "Quit calling me that."
Archie smirked like he had him where he wanted. "You called me Pinkie. Don't think I didn't hear that shit," he fired back.
Toni's mouth opened, then closed. "…" He finally muttered, "I will tell them to behave." With that, he slipped out, leaving Archie to watch Marcel pull on his gloves.
"Break a leg, boss," Archie said with a fist in the air. It was meant to be an encouragement, but given that Marcel's leg was broken before, it was the worst choice of words.
Marcel glared at him, and Archie winced before correcting himself. "Oops, I meant kick ass."
Marcel smacked him upside the head and strode out. Archie yelped, rubbing his scalp, and hurried after him. "Boss, I was wrong!"
***
The gym was packed with people from either side, the tension in the air intense. It was so intense that it would only take one spark to ignite the flames. From across the crowd, Marcel met Ren's gaze. Ren lounged with a cigarette pinched between his fingers, a wisp of smoke curling upward. With a smirk, he puffed out a cloud.
Marcel walked straight to the ring, his steps steady and his presence commanding. Ren said, "The man of the hour finally arrives." He walked towards him and, with a sly smile, he said, "I thought you ran off like a little bitch."
Ren's voice followed after him, saying, "How about this... You apologize to my nephew, and I can let this go. The apology has to be very sincere, though."
Marcel leaned against the ropes, his gaze shifting to the so-called nephew. The young man's face was red with anger, the humiliation from before still fresh in his mind. The incident earlier must have been so embarrassing for him that he had gone crying to his uncle.
Marcel smirked with an eerie smile. His tone dripping with disdain, he said, "Seems like the only little bitch in here is him." The words hit were it hurt the most. The young man was so enraged that he lunged forward his fists clenched. The room was instantly in chaos with curses and insults flying across the room.
Marcel said, "Enough." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried so much weight that the room fell silent. The authority in it was undeniable. Miso was yanked back by the back of his neck; his uncle Ren's grip was iron-tight.