Deeply Honored

"From what I remembered, there shouldn't have been any conflict between our group and KK Squad."

Aguilar's finger remained on the trigger. Smoke still lingered at the muzzle, but he did not fire again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the vehicle, whose autopilot had not been activated, careen uncontrollably toward the end of the street before slamming into the building on the corner. The piercing screech of twisting metal echoed in the distance.

Yet his gaze never left Carl. Those cold eyes were like those of a beast that had locked onto its prey, slowly and precisely assessing every subtle reaction from his opponent.

"But you appeared before me." Aguilar's voice was low and hoarse, like deliberately restrained thunder, carrying an almost dangerous calm.

It was the standard voice described in the records—calm, steady, yet hiding an invisible pressure within every syllable. In the past, anyone he had stared at and spoken to in that tone had felt a chill crawl down their spine, as though some predator had fixed its gaze upon them, making even breathing difficult.

However, KK was clearly not among those people.

Aguilar's lips tightened slightly, and his grip on the gun clenched. "Then I suppose that even if there was no conflict, there will be one now." He paused, no longer concealing the threat in his tone. "I'll take this as a provocation against us."

"See it however you want. I don't care."

Carl shrugged lazily, a faint smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.

He was in exceptionally good condition at the moment—a half-full stomach provided exactly the right amount of energy, his blood circulated at its optimal rate, and even his neural transmission was a little faster than usual.

In this state, he could clearly catch every flutter