Fenrir leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the Gorilla-like man more carefully.
Something nagged at the back of his mind—a faint ripple in the sea of memories that didn't belong to him, but to the body's original owner.
The longer he stared, the clearer it became.
'I know this face.'
Images flickered behind his eyes.
Pain.
Blood.
A large, brutish man laughing while dragging the original body through back alley labs, promising awakening... only to beat him senseless when results didn't come.
And a number—three million credits—burned itself into his mind.
The original had begged for strength. And this man had sold him false hope wrapped in brutality.
Fenrir let out a slow, controlled sigh, feeling his patience thinning.
He stepped forward, voice low but carrying enough weight to fill the room.
"I remember now. You charged me three million credits, didn't you? Promised to awaken my abilities."
Fenrir said.
The gorilla-man stiffened, face twitching in surprise.
Fenrir's lips curved into a cold, humorless smile.
"What followed was a string of beatings, experiments... dragging this body through filth like a broken toy. You're lucky he survived at all."
For a second, the man's bravado faltered.
But then, anger twisted his features, washing over his brief hesitation.
"You deserved it, you pampered brat! You think you can just buy power? Tch."
He spat.
Fenrir tilted his head slightly, amusement glinting in his gaze.
The man's face turned an ugly shade of red, feeling triggered by the indifference.
"You little—!"
He lunged forward with a roar, throwing a heavy punch aimed straight at Fenrir's head.
But Fenrir had been waiting.
He shifted effortlessly to the side, letting the attack whoosh past harmlessly, feeling the wind brush his hair.
The gorilla-man stumbled, momentarily off-balance, his face flushing with humiliation.
The crowd outside the window could probably hear the sound of his pride cracking.
Snarling, the man summoned his mana—a thick, wild thing, uncontrolled—and reached toward Fenrir with fingers glowing faintly.
But the moment his hand came close, Fenrir moved.
With calm precision, he caught the man's wrist mid-air.
A pulse of mana surged from Fenrir's fingertips, cold and surgical, instantly suppressing the gorilla-man's energy.
The bigger man gasped, his knees buckling slightly under the overwhelming pressure.
Fenrir squeezed just enough to make the point clear.
"Skill matters, not just brute force."
Fenrir said quietly.
The man's eyes widened. Sweat poured down his temple as realization dawned.
"You... you actually awakened?"
He croaked, disbelief dripping from every word.
Fenrir gave a slow, almost pitying smile.
"You should know. After all, didn't you help?"
He said, voice dripping with mockery.
The words cut deeper than any blow could have.
The gorilla-man's face twisted with rage, humiliation sparking in his veins.
"Fine! No more holding back!"
He snarled.
He yanked his hand free with a surge of strength and launched himself at Fenrir, mana crackling around him like an unstable storm.
The floor shook under his charge, but Fenrir didn't even blink.
At the last second, he shifted lightly to the side—so fast and subtle it almost looked like he hadn't moved at all.
The man, carried by his own reckless momentum, crashed headlong into the window.
There was a sickening crunch of glass and metal as the thick, reinforced panel shattered around him.
Fenrir watched impassively as the gorilla-man tumbled out with a scream, falling three stories before landing with a painful thud in the alleyway below.
A few passing pedestrians screamed and scattered.
Fenrir stepped toward the broken window and peered down calmly.
The man lay in a heap, groaning and clutching his ribs. Shards of mana-reinforced glass sparkled around him like tiny, glittering daggers.
Fenrir's voice drifted down like falling snow.
"Consider this my payment for all the kindness you showed."
He said.
The man twitched, but didn't dare respond.
Satisfied, Fenrir pulled back, closing the battered window frame as much as it would allow.
He dusted his hands off lightly.
Problem solved.
Fenrir leaned against the damaged window frame, arms folded, watching the scene below with calm detachment.
People had begun gathering already—pointing, whispering, recording on their phones.
A few brave ones edged closer to the fallen gorilla-man sprawled in the alley.
'How long until the authorities show up?'
He wondered, tapping his fingers idly against his arm.
He didn't particularly care, but unnecessary attention was something he wanted to avoid right now.
His new life was just beginning to take shape, and getting tangled up with police reports or headlines wasn't part of his plan.
And right on cue, at the fifteen-minute mark, there came a sharp knock at the door.
Fenrir approached, his senses sharpening. He couldn't feel hostility... but something about the magic aura on the other side was strange. Controlled. Professional.
He opened the door.
Standing there was a man in a black suit, polished shoes gleaming even in the dim hallway.
His hair was slicked back neatly, and his expression was blank in that careful way only people trained to seem harmless could pull off.
"Good afternoon, young master. I'm here to fix your window."
The man said with a slight bow.
Fenrir arched an eyebrow but stepped aside, letting the man in without a word.
The man moved with mechanical efficiency, pulling out a slim black device from his coat pocket.
It unfolded into a larger panel, and mana circuits lit up under his gloved fingers as he went to work repairing the shattered window.
Fenrir watched him silently, arms still crossed, radiating pure boredom.
The window slowly reformed under the worker's magic-tech device, glass shimmering and knitting itself back together molecule by molecule. It took less than five minutes.
Once the work was complete, the man wiped invisible dust from his gloves and turned to face Fenrir.
Expression still neutral, he spoke again.
"My master has a message for you."
Fenrir didn't move.
The man continued, voice low but firm, like delivering a death sentence hidden inside polite words.
[You are advised to live quietly from now on. Do not attract attention to yourself... if you know what's good for you.]
A beat passed.
"And regarding today's...incident…our PR team will handle it. You are requested not to comment publicly."
The man added, eyes flicking briefly to the repaired window.
Fenrir's expression didn't change, but inside, something cold and sharp began to stir.
'Brother, huh?'
If the memories served him right, the original owner of this body had an older brother. Successful. Ruthless.
Barely acknowledged his existence except when it became necessary to clean up a mess.
Fenrir stared at the man in black, studying every controlled movement, every hidden calculation behind his polite exterior.
Not trustworthy.
Neither the messenger, nor the master behind him.
"Message received."
Fenrir said simply.
The man nodded, gave another mechanical bow, and exited without another word.
Fenrir locked the door behind him, feeling a faint prickle of annoyance along his spine.
He crossed the room, grabbed his tablet, and pulled up the news.
In seconds, a flood of headlines met his gaze.
"Young Master of the Ren Family Involved in Violent Altercation!" "Violence Erupts in Central Residential Area - Is Power Abuse to Blame?" "Exclusive: Mysterious Scion of Ren Family Identified!"
Pictures were few and blurry. Most were being deleted or censored mid-scroll, vanishing from the net before he could even open them properly.
Still, the damage was done.
People knew his name. His address. They were building stories around him without even knowing who he really was.
Fenrir tapped his fingers against the side of the tablet, thinking.
'This feels like a trap.'
The speed at which articles had been written and published…
The sloppy job at deleting them just late enough to let public opinion sour...
Someone wanted to ruin my reputation even more.