[Di Carpio Household]
"Hah!" Marshal let out a derisive snort with the phone pressed to his ear. "You’ve made me plenty of promises, Memphis, yet Lucian is still alive and kicking."
A chuckle came from the other end of the line.
"Marshal, I told you to be patient. As I said before we struck our deal, these things take time. But trust me, the wait will be worth it."
Marshal’s frown deepened as he clicked his tongue.
"As long as you’re keeping your end of the bargain, there won’t be any problems," Memphis replied calmly. "You understand that, don’t you?"
Marshal didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he listened to the arrogant newcomer of Dominion, whose ambition far exceeded that of anyone else. Then again, Memphis had secured his position by sacrificing his own blood and bending Dominion’s rules to earn a seat in the High Chamber.
"If that’s all, then I’ll take my leave—"
Memphis paused when Marshal finally spoke.
"I actually do have a problem. In fact, it’ll become your problem too, since he’s just as troublesome for the Di Carpios."
Memphis raised a brow.
"Mr. Di Carpio, I believe you’ve misunderstood something. I may need the Di Carpios’ cooperation, but that doesn’t make me your problem solver."
"Tomas."
Silence settled over the line.
"There’s only one Tomas whose name carries weight in the underground," Marshal continued. "Apparently... he’s still alive."
"And what does that have to do with us?"
Marshal smirked. "A lot."
"Tomas and I go way back. Not long ago, my men crossed paths with his." He leaned back in his chair. "And the first thing he did was send me a warning. Normally, I wouldn’t bother telling you this. My business is my business. But I know Tommy."
A dangerous glint flickered across his eyes.
"Even if he’s retired, the moment he discovers I’m connected to Dominion, he’ll become a problem. Lucian might cut ties with me—or even throw that useless girl out—just to shake Tommy’s hand. And if that happens..." Marshal chuckled. "I don’t think your plans will go as smoothly as you expect."
Malice filled his eyes while the person on the other end remained silent.
"Tomas isn’t an ordinary man," he added knowingly. "The only way to kill him is to catch him completely off guard. Miss that opportunity..." He smirked. "...and there won’t be another. I’ll send you his whereabouts. Up to you if you want a problem in the future, or deal with it before it becomes one."
With that, Marshal ended the call without another word.
He tossed his phone onto the desk, satisfaction spreading across his face. Moments later, quiet chuckles echoed through the room.
"What a fool," he muttered as he strolled toward an old phonograph. "Did he really think I’d become his obedient little yes-man?"
He carefully placed a record onto the player. Soon, soft music drifted through the room.
Marshal smiled.
Then, matching the rhythm, he danced his way back across the office.
It wasn’t as though he couldn’t launch an attack on Tommy himself.
But why should he risk standing on the front line against a madman like Tommy when he had allies?
Allies who needed his help.
Allies who needed him alive.
Besides, if Memphis succeeded, Marshal wouldn’t have to lower his head or order his men to retreat just because Tommy demanded it.
And if Memphis failed...
None of it would lead back to him.
Tommy would tear the underground apart searching for whoever was responsible, only to find himself chasing ghosts.
What is it this time?



Knock. Knock.
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