170. Hello, Lark

"Welcome, Aguilar."

Even Hansen, the King of Dogtown, showed the proper respect when facing a representative of the Cuban Crime Syndicate. The moment Aguilar appeared at the banquet hall entrance, Hansen had already risen to greet him, wearing a warmly calculated smile.

"Hansen."

Aguilar's response was as dry and cold as his hoarse voice. His hawk-like eyes, black with white pupils, swept indifferently over Hansen's carefully arranged reception. "Under the terms of our agreement, I am attending as the Syndicate's fully authorized representative."

Every word he spoke seemed chiseled from an ice cellar.

This was merely an unspoken transaction—Hansen's power in Dogtown bore the shadow of the Cuban Syndicate behind it. Yet both sides knew it was only a temporary arrangement born of exchanged interests. Their so-called alliance was as thin as the faint, mocking smile at Aguilar's lips.

Hansen seemed prepared for this deliberate distance. He nodded calmly, his tone as familiar as if discussing yesterday's weather. "If I recall correctly, it's been half a year since we last parted in Havana, hasn't it?"

The friendliness Hansen deliberately projected made Aguilar's gaze freeze at once.

Those blade-like eyes stabbed straight into Hansen, dangerous cold currents surging within them. "Hansen, everyone in Dogtown knows how suspicious you are." His voice was low, yet sharp as a poisoned dagger. "But you should know our rules—you've crossed a line with that little test."

Aguilar slowly stepped forward, his custom leather shoes tapping out an icy rhythm across the marble floor. "According to the records, 'I' have not met with you at any point over the past six months." He deliberately emphasized that quoted "I." "Do I need to remind you which of my 'colleagues' you met in Havana last time?"

"Then it seems I was mistaken."

Facing Aguilar's almost tangible chill, Hansen