If he actually became chairman, wouldn't all hell break loose?

Calis Bar was one of the few private bars in the upper district.

It had long been rumored to belong to the Bond Conglomerate, so few gangs dared cause trouble there.

Under the dim lights, Silka Bond held his wineglass up toward the chandelier, letting the glass refract a rainbow of colors.

Damn, this feels good.

Sirka gazed at the wine in his glass, thoroughly pleased with himself.

The thought of soon working with the Wetting Conglomerate while his siblings were still struggling to develop their own businesses filled him with satisfaction.

After savoring his private triumph, he drained his glass and casually set it on the table.

Sirka called out to the bodyguard stationed at the door:

"Merika, arrange a car for me. I'm heading to Alt District."

Everything was ready. All that remained was signing the contract.

But his words met with no response.

Sirka frowned and called again:

"Merika, where are you?"

Still, no one answered.

A trace of unease crept into Sirka's heart. He stood and walked toward the door.

The instant he pushed it open, his gaze met a pair of clear, pale-green eyes.

Startled, Sirka instinctively backed away, only for the young woman before him to break his knee with a kick, sending him to his knees.

A sharp sting followed at his neck as a syringe plunged into it, a chill spreading from the injection site.

He felt his consciousness slipping away rapidly as everything around him blurred.

In his last moment of awareness, he heard the girl with green streaks in her black hair reporting over her comms.

"Miss Chelsea, the target has been captured."

Inside an enclosed room, a steady dripping came from the corner.

Sirka gradually regained consciousness. He shook his still-groggy head, trying to clear it.

The effort did little to make him feel better.

A moment later, a basin of ice water was dumped over his head.

The bone-piercing cold jolted him fully awake. Under that intense shock, he distinctly felt his heart skip a beat, as though he might drop dead at any moment. He gasped for breath.

Thanks to that brutal shock, Sirka shook off his grogginess.

After taking a moment to recover, he raised his head and surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings.

Then someone struck him hard in the stomach. The violent impact made him retch and cough several times, and it took him a long while to recover.

"Miss Chelsea, is that enough?"

The girl's voice came from beside him. Shigure Ryoko lowered her fist and looked toward the white-haired girl nearby.

Chelsea?

Fighting through his discomfort, Sirka raised his head to look at the woman before him. His pupils immediately constricted.

He recognized her at first glance: Chelsea Claudi, chairwoman of the Nathen Conglomerate.

But why? I haven't done anything to offend her.

Sirka's mind was in turmoil.

Then he heard her speak:

"Mr. Sirka, if you don't mind, could you tell me where you hid the chip?"

Chelsea's voice held not a trace of emotion.

Chip? What chip?

Sirka was bewildered, but before he could speak, the woman before him frowned.

Another powerful blow slammed into his stomach.

It felt as though all his organs had been turned upside down. Sirka retched uncontrollably.

"If you refuse to talk, Mr. Sirka, don't blame me for resorting to special measures."

Chelsea Claudi's words sent a chill down Sirka's spine, even though he still had no idea what was happening.

Driven by fear, he swallowed his discomfort and hurriedly spoke:

"M-Miss Chelsea, I'll talk! I'll talk!"

Beside him, Shigure Ryoko stopped what she was doing.

Then Sirka continued:

"Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you everything. But could you please explain what's happening first?"

Shigure Ryoko thought he was still being stubborn. She frowned and was about to strike again, but Chelsea stopped her.

Chelsea looked at the man before her and calmly explained:

"At nine last night, a shipment belonging to the Nathen Conglomerate was hijacked. None of the employees transporting it survived."

Unease rose in Sirka's chest at those words. Then she continued:

"And according to the intelligence sent back from the scene, our attackers were equipped with the Bond Conglomerate's latest-generation Tactical Suits..."

Hearing that, Sirka hurriedly shouted:

"No, I didn't do it! The Bond Conglomerate-"

Bam!

Another punch struck Sirka in the stomach. Shigure Ryoko snapped viciously:

"Keep quiet!"

After that punch, Sirka no longer dared shout. Enduring the turmoil in his stomach, he listened as the woman named Chelsea continued:

"First question: why were last night's attackers equipped with the Bond Conglomerate's Tactical Suits?"

Sirka forced himself to calm down, frantically searching his mind for an answer. A moment later, his eyes lit up as something occurred to him.

"It-it was Jonas! Jonas Wetting!"

Hearing an unexpected name in Sirka's answer, Chelsea frowned and asked:

"Jonas? Why would the Wetting Conglomerate have the Bond Conglomerate's Tactical Suits?"

At those words, Sirka finally understood his predicament.

Damn that Jonas. He really was up to no good.

Seething inwardly, he said:

"That bastard tricked me into giving him ten Tactical Suits. He said he wanted to study the design approach behind our Bond Conglomerate's Tactical Suits."

Even Shigure Ryoko struggled to keep her composure at that.

"So you just lent them to him?"

Faced with a question from the girl who had beaten him without mercy, Sirka timidly nodded.

Chelsea fell silent for a moment, then rose without another word.

She had all the answers she needed. There was no reason to stay.

"Once this is over, I'll let you go, Mr. Sirka."

With that, she walked toward the door.

Shigure Ryoko hurried after her.

The door slowly closed, leaving Mr. Sirka alone with despair in his eyes.

What did I ever do to deserve this?!

In the building's corridor, Shigure Ryoko followed Chelsea, frowning as she spoke:

"Miss Chelsea, do you believe him?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Chelsea answered with a question, then continued:

"He doesn't have the nerve to do something like this. The real culprit must be connected to that young heir of the Wetting Conglomerate."

"Uh... then what do we do next?" Shigure Ryoko asked, scratching her head.

"You'll be responsible for 'inviting' Mr. Jonas of the Wetting Conglomerate over."

A cold glint flashed through Chelsea's eyes.

"Honestly. Now just anyone thinks they can cross my Nathen Conglomerate."

The two sides were never on equal footing to begin with.

She could not imagine where he had found the nerve to hijack her shipment.

Just because he was the heir to the Wetting Conglomerate?

He was only the heir, and he was already like this. If he actually took control of the Wetting Conglomerate, wouldn't all hell break loose?!