Chapter 118 - 116 Where the Meeting Began with Blood

Chapter 118: Chapter 116 Where the Meeting Began with Blood

The movie continued without anyone watching it.

The images changed across the screen with the sound reduced to a murmur. The bluish light passed over the blankets spread across the floor, over the containers of half-finished sweets, and over the bodies overcome by exhaustion. Valentina slept leaning against Virka, covered up to her shoulders. Óscar remained motionless among several pillows. Zaira rested on her side, far enough away to preserve a distance that no longer seemed like rejection, but habit.

The administrator finished arranging the last plate on a tray.

She did not get up to leave.

Sebastián had noticed that much earlier. The clothes had arrived. The food was prepared. The sleepover no longer needed anything she had to handle. Even so, she had found reasons to remain during the training, accompany Valentina, and help with the room until exhaustion overcame almost everyone.

Each task had been real. None explained why she was still there.

Sebastián watched her from where he sat.

—Now tell us why you stayed.

The administrator’s hands stopped.

She did not pretend not to understand. She looked first at Valentina and then at Óscar and Zaira, making sure the three of them were still asleep. The gesture was discreet, but it confirmed the obvious: she had waited until only they could hear her.

Virka kept one hand on the blanket covering Valentina.

—The clothes arrived hours ago —she said calmly—. The food was organized as well. Your work ended long before the night did.

The administrator lowered her gaze toward the tray.

The dim light brushed against her earrings, the layered necklaces, and the braid that fell over one of her shoulders. Throughout the afternoon, she had moved with the practical ease of someone who handled orders, inventories, and people. Now, for the first time, she seemed to weigh every word before releasing it.

—Yes, queen.

Virka did not correct the title.

The administrator set the tray aside and sat in front of them, keeping enough distance so that her voice would not reach those who were sleeping.

—I stayed because I needed to speak with both of you without intermediaries —she said—. I did not want to send it in a report.

Sebastián kept his gaze on her.

—Speak.

The administrator took a single breath.

—Everything started moving after the purge against Ivano.

The room did not change, but the name altered the weight of the silence.

It did not belong to that night of blankets, cookies, and peaceful breathing. It belonged somewhere else: broken concrete, blood on the floor, scattered drugs, armed men, and vehicles driving away with a prisoner who had already lost everything he had ever called his own.

Ivano had been captured alive.

Then they killed him.

There was no trial, record, or authority that claimed what had happened. In the underworld, defeat did not need documents. The victor took what they could keep, and the rest learned to recognize the new owner.

—After his death, we kept everything useful —the administrator continued—. The warehouses, the money, the shipments, the drugs, the supplies, the equipment, and the records he kept protected. We also found information about buyers, suppliers, delivery points, and routes he had been using for a long time.

Sebastián did not interrupt.

She had been there when they took Ivano out of the compound. She had seen the blood in his mouth, the dust on his clothes, and the expression of a man who was still breathing without understanding that his structure was already being divided up. She had also coordinated the withdrawal and the recovery of what the Crimson Empire had decided to claim.

She was not speaking from rumors.

She had seen the exact moment when an underworld force stopped belonging to the one who had built it.

—Not everything could be used —she added—. Part of his resources was compromised, and some contacts tried to disappear when they learned that Ivano had fallen. But what remained was enough. We have already integrated it into our operations.

Virka watched her with the same calm with which she had listened to everything.

—How much did it change?

The administrator understood that she was not asking only about money.

—More than it seemed at first. His merchandise filled gaps we still had. His warehouses increased our storage capacity. His routes reduced our dependence on third parties, and his contacts allowed us to enter areas where we previously needed intermediaries. Profits increased, but that was not the most important thing.

—We occupied the space he left behind —Sebastián said.

—Yes, emperor. And we did it before another force could claim it.

Sebastián did not react to the title.

The administrator rested her hands on her knees.

—In the underworld, no one considers it an acquisition. Nor do they expect it to be justified. Ivano lost, died, and you took his resources. That is enough as long as the Empire has the strength to keep them.

Virka lowered her gaze for a moment toward Valentina.

The girl slept without knowing that, only a few steps away from her, the same people who were Mom and Dad inside that room held other titles in places where no one pronounced their names with tenderness.

—But you did not stay to explain something we already know —Virka said.

—No.

The administrator held her gaze.

—I stayed because of the consequences.

Sebastián remained still.

—Before the purge —she continued—, most people saw the Crimson Empire as a new force. With soldiers, resources, and the ability to grow, but still new. After Ivano, they stopped thinking that way.

The movie continued projecting silent scenes onto the wall. In one of them, luminous figures laughed at something no one in the room could hear. The image seemed to belong to another world.

—We did not only end him —the administrator continued—. We attacked his structure, captured him, killed him, and absorbed what he controlled without losing our own operations. That made many organizations reconsider what they thought they knew about us.

—Rumors —Sebastián said.

—Yes. And they are growing.

The administrator leaned slightly forward.

—People are talking about the strength of the Beast Queen. About what happened inside the compound. About the way his men were eliminated. They are also talking about the Crimson Emperor, the purge order, and the speed with which the Empire took everything after Ivano’s fall.

Virka showed neither pride nor discomfort. Neither did Sebastián. The titles did not change what they had done. They only changed the way others told it.

—Many exaggerate —the administrator said—. They increase the size of our forces, the amount of resources we control, and the reach of our routes. But it does not matter whether all of it is true. What matters is that they are already acting as though it could be.

Sebastián understood that language.

Fear did not need obedience to be useful. Sometimes it was enough for the other person to hesitate before moving merchandise, crossing a route, or interfering in a territory. A reputation could conquer space without firing a weapon.

It could also attract eyes that previously had no reason to draw near.

—What did they do? —he asked.

—At first, they sent indirect questions. Contacts trying to find out who had the authority to negotiate. Intermediaries offering agreements they would not have considered before. People interested in buying part of what we took from Ivano or in selling us supplies to come under our protection.

Virka understood before she finished.

—They want to take advantage of the growth.

—Yes, queen.

The administrator picked up the device she had kept beside her throughout the night.

—Some forces want access to our routes and warehouses. Others propose combining supplies, men, and contacts to increase profits. There are also organizations interested in joining commercial territories and expanding the domain of both sides.

—They want to grow behind the Empire —Sebastián said.

—And make any enemy think twice before touching them.

There was no nobility in those proposals. No one sought to build a better order. They spoke of merchandise, money, territory, and shared fear. In the underworld, an alliance was not friendship. It was the temporary decision that it was more profitable to devour others before devouring one another.

The administrator activated the device.

The screen illuminated her face from below. Classified messages, organization symbols, names of intermediaries, and pending requests appeared on the glass. There were too many for it to be a passing reaction.

—I have responded as necessary to buy time —she explained—. I rejected the offers that were worth nothing and kept open those that could prove useful. But several made it clear that they no longer want to speak with me or with representatives.

Sebastián watched the screen without touching it.

—What do they want, then?

The administrator turned off the device. Darkness returned to her hands.

—A meeting.

Virka kept her eyes on her.

—For what purpose?

—To negotiate alliances, join forces, and increase their profits. Some want to know what the Empire plans to do with everything it took from Ivano. Others only want to verify whether the rumors about you are true.

—They want to measure us —Sebastián said.

—Some do. Others want to place themselves on your side before the Empire continues growing without them.

Valentina’s breathing remained calm beside Virka. Óscar shifted slightly among the pillows, murmured something without waking, and became still again. Zaira did not change position.

The small life of that room continued untouched.

But beyond the walls, within that world that traded in fear and obeyed only strength, other organizations were already speaking the titles they did not use at home.

The administrator looked first at Sebastián and then at Virka.

—They want to meet the Crimson Emperor and the Beast Queen.

The administrator did not look away after speaking the titles. Sebastián did not respond immediately either.

Valentina had moved in her sleep. Her head had ended up at an uncomfortable angle against Virka, and part of the blanket had slipped down to her waist. Before returning to the matter, Sebastián leaned forward, carefully adjusted the girl’s small body, and covered her again up to the shoulders. Valentina murmured something unintelligible, reached with one hand for the nearest warmth, and ended up clutching the fabric of Virka’s pajamas.

Sebastián waited until her breathing returned to its calm rhythm.

Only then did he look at the administrator.

—Of all the requests, which two can benefit the Empire the most?

The question carried no curiosity. It was a selection.

The administrator activated the device again, but kept the brightness low so as not to wake anyone. She scrolled through several requests, discarded minor intermediaries, and opened two files marked with different symbols.

—Currently, two organizations stand out above the rest —she said—. Both are comparable in size to Ivano’s structure before the purge. They do not control the same business, but both possess resources we could use.

The first symbol looked like a closed chain around a door.

—The first calls itself the House of Chains.

Virka observed the image without changing her expression.

—What do they control?

—People —the administrator replied—. Purchase, capture, transport, and sale. They do not distinguish age or origin as long as there is a buyer. They also deal in blood, organs, and other human parts. They have clandestine doctors, holding sites, transportation routes, and contacts capable of placing that merchandise in different markets.

The movie continued moving silently behind them. On the screen, an animated character smiled beneath a colorful sky. A few meters away, a girl slept while embracing her mother as they spoke of human beings turned into inventory.

There was no contradiction for the world.

The world had always been capable of holding both things at the same time.

—Why does it benefit us? —Sebastián asked.

The administrator changed sections.

—Because of the casino and the black market. Some clients do not gamble only with money. They use information, people, contracts, blood, organs, or rights over human merchandise. The House of Chains could expand what is offered, what is exchanged, and what is sold after each operation. It would also give us access to buyers who currently work with other intermediaries.

Sebastián read the information without touching the device.

He did not seem surprised or disgusted. Nor interested because of cruelty. He evaluated the organization as he would have evaluated a warehouse, a route, or a weapon: by what it could produce, by what it required to sustain itself, and by how difficult it would be to control.

—Do they depend on a single person?

—Not completely. They have a visible leader, but the structure is divided among recruiters, transporters, doctors, guards, and sellers. If the leadership falls, the rest could fragment or be sold to other forces. To absorb them, we would have to control the routes and records before they scatter.

Virka lowered her gaze toward Valentina. Her hand remained on the blanket.

—Continue.

The administrator opened the second file. The symbol showed two identical faces confronting each other over a fractured surface.

—The second is the House of the Mirror.

—Counterfeiters —Sebastián said.

—The best among the organizations that requested a meeting. Money, jewelry, documents, identities, certificates, seals, luxury goods, and pieces intended for auctions. If something has enough value to be copied, they try to reproduce it.

—With what precision?

—Enough to deceive ordinary buyers and, in some cases, verification systems. They can also alter real pieces, fabricate ownership histories, and give stolen merchandise a legitimate appearance. Their contacts extend to auction houses, smaller banks, private storage facilities, and black-market merchants.

Sebastián understood their usefulness immediately.

They could do more than produce fake objects. They could alter the apparent value of what the Empire already possessed, build identities to move people, create certificates to introduce merchandise, and facilitate exchanges where the true origin of a product had to disappear.

—They could help us place merchandise that is difficult to sell —he said.

—Yes. Also to prepare products for auctions, exchange copies for real goods, and conceal the origin of what we take from other forces. Their economic network is cleaner than that of the House of Chains, but it is also more difficult to dominate. They work with specialists. If they feel they are going to lose control, they can erase records and scatter before we reach them.

Virka observed both files.

—Which of the two requested a meeting first?

—The House of Chains. They have insisted more. Their representative claims that they want a stable alliance, but the tone of their messages has changed. At first, they offered business. Now they want to know what conditions the Empire would impose.

—They are afraid of being left out —Sebastián said.

—Or of ending up underneath —the administrator replied.

Sebastián remained silent for a few seconds.

The House of the Mirror could be more useful in the long term. Its counterfeits, documents, and economic networks would allow the Empire to move resources without exposing their origin. But the House of Chains possessed something immediate: routes, buyers, facilities, and a structure that fed on the same type of market that already surrounded the casino.

It was also the first to try to approach them.

That meant it had made a decision before the others.

Sebastián shifted his gaze toward Virka. He did not use the tone with which he gave orders to soldiers, nor the one he reserved for those who worked under the Empire.

—Are you coming with me, or would you rather stay with Valentina?

Virka looked at the girl sleeping against her.

Valentina had insisted throughout the night on having a real sleepover. She had trained the team without entering the field, chosen pajamas, handed out pillows, and ended the day believing she had just made new friends. If she woke up and found neither of them there, that simple happiness could turn into a question that did not need to exist.

Virka adjusted a strand of Valentina’s hair.

—I will stay with her.

Sebastián nodded. He did not need to ask why.

—Let her finish her sleepover peacefully —Virka added—. If she wakes up, I will be here.

—Good.

The administrator deactivated the files and held the device against one leg.

—Do you want me to prepare a formal meeting for tomorrow?

Sebastián looked at her.

—No.

The answer came without pause.

—We are going now.

The administrator kept her face calm, although her eyes dropped for a moment toward Sebastián’s dark pajamas.

—Now, emperor?

—They asked to meet me. We will see them before they can prepare another image of what they are.

He did not need a prepared room, a negotiating table, or an escort assembled for the occasion. An underworld organization asking for an alliance was not going to choose the conditions under which it would be evaluated.

—I want to see their structure functioning —he continued—. Their facilities, their people, and the way they control the merchandise. If they can be integrated without affecting our operations, conditions will be established.

The administrator understood what he had not yet said.

—And if they cannot?

Sebastián’s crimson eyes remained still.

—The leadership is eliminated before they get in the way. Then we take whatever proves useful.

There was no threat in his voice.

A threat sought to provoke fear. That was an administrative possibility spoken with the same calm with which he had requested clothes and food a few hours earlier.

Virka showed no surprise. She knew that part of him. It was not pleasure, anger, or a desire to punish. Sebastián could protect Valentina’s sleep with one hand and decide the death of others with the same certainty because both things occupied different places within his will. He did not need to pretend that one canceled out the other.

The administrator put away the device.

—I can communicate that we accept the meeting and request a location.

—Do not tell them we are on our way.

—Understood.

Sebastián carefully pulled free a corner of the blanket that had ended up beneath his knee and stood up.

He was still wearing his pajamas.

He did not look for other clothes. He did not ask for time to change or to assume the appearance of the Crimson Emperor. The dark, comfortable fabric did not diminish what he was. Those who needed a suit, armor, or a title to recognize him had misunderstood from the beginning.

The administrator stood afterward. Her hipster clothes remained as orderly as when she had arrived, although the braid had lost some of its firmness after the bath and so many hours in the house. She adjusted one of the necklaces, put away the device, and picked up a light jacket from the back of a chair.

Sebastián looked at Valentina one last time.

The girl was still asleep beside Virka, surrounded by blankets, pillows, and people who only a few hours earlier could barely be called a team. Óscar breathed with his mouth slightly open. Zaira remained on her side, still preserving a certain stiffness even while asleep.

Virka raised her eyes toward him.

—Be careful.

She did not say it because she believed the House of Chains could defeat him. She said it because closeness did not need to justify its words.

—I will.

Sebastián and the administrator left the room without turning on any more lights. Their footsteps moved away down the corridor while the movie continued showing scenes that no one watched.

When they reached the side entrance, Sebastián opened the door.

The night air entered cold.

In the distance, near the pond, the mountain water continued falling with a constant sound. Beneath the moon, Narka’s reduced form remained partially submerged, motionless until the movement of the door caught his attention. The golden eye opened within the darkness.

Sebastián spoke without raising his voice too much.

—See you later.

From inside, Virka replied:

—See you later.

Narka’s deep voice came from the pond, close despite the distance.

—We will wait for you, Sebastián.

Sebastián added nothing.

He crossed the doorway still dressed for sleep, and the administrator stepped out behind him. The entrance closed softly, leaving the sleepover, the warmth, and the peaceful breathing on the other side.

The night waited before them.

And somewhere within it, the House of Chains still believed it had requested a meeting.

The van left the property without waking the night.

The administrator drove with both hands on the steering wheel. She had put a jacket over her usual clothes, but she kept the necklaces, the earrings, and the braid slightly loose after so many hours. She did not look like a woman who had just left a sleepover. Her posture had returned to that of someone accustomed to transporting merchandise, coordinating operations, and entering places where a mistake was not corrected with apologies.

Sebastián sat in the passenger seat.

He was still wearing the dark pajamas.

He had not changed clothes or looked for a coat that would give him a more formal appearance. The comfortable fabric, made for sleeping inside a safe house, contrasted with his crimson eyes and the stillness of his body. He looked like a teenager pulled out of bed by a domestic emergency.

Only the administrator knew the kind of emergency they were heading toward.

The private road fell behind them. The walls disappeared among the trees, and the van took the road descending toward the city. For a long stretch, neither spoke. The engine filled the space with a steady murmur. Outside the windows, the forest passed by as black stains, and the mountains blended into the sky.

The administrator did not turn on any music.

Sebastián watched the road.

He did not seem impatient. The House of Chains had been asking to meet him for days. It could wait a few more minutes without changing what was going to happen. The real decision had not yet been made. He had not accepted an alliance. Nor had he ordered a purge.

He was going to look.

Then he would decide what deserved to continue existing.

When the first distant lights of the city appeared within the darkness, Sebastián spoke.

—Contact the Empire’s armed forces.

The administrator did not take her eyes off the road.

—To inform them about the meeting?

—To mobilize them.

The answer made her fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel.

Not out of fear. Out of calculation.

—How many units do you need?

Sebastián kept his gaze forward.

—All of them.

The administrator remained silent for a moment.

She did not doubt what she had heard. She was measuring the scope. The Crimson Empire was not a gang that could gather in an alley with a single call. Mobilizing all its forces meant activating soldiers, assault squads, transports, heavy weaponry, closed communications, and enough personnel to turn a private meeting into an annihilation operation.

—Do you want them to enter the city? —she asked.

—Not yet.

The van continued moving forward.

—Have them prepare outside their field of vision —Sebastián continued—. Distribute them at points from which they can close the exits when the order is given. No one must see them beforehand.

—Do you want a complete encirclement?

—Yes.

The administrator took a curve and waited for the road to straighten again.

—If the meeting ends in combat, what will the objective be?

Sebastián answered without changing his tone.

—Eliminate the organization.

He did not say neutralize. He did not say detain.

The administrator understood.

—Only the leadership?

—Everyone who forms part of their structure and could rebuild it.

—They may have personnel distributed across several locations.

—Then have the forces ready to take each location once we have their coordinates.

The city grew before them.

Sebastián continued:

—If I give the order, they close the perimeter, block the routes, and kill anyone who tries to escape. Afterward, they search the facilities, recover the files, and take everything that proves useful.

The administrator swallowed discreetly.

She had participated in purges. She had seen how an organization lost its leader, its men, its merchandise, and even the right to speak its own name. She knew Sebastián was not exaggerating to intimidate her. If he ordered the destruction of the House of Chains, there would be no unresolved discussion left by dawn.

—No exceptions? —she asked.

—No loose ends.

The administrator nodded.

—Understood, emperor.

She activated the communication system integrated into the van. She did not call a single person. She opened an encrypted channel, entered several credentials, and waited until a voice answered from the other end.

—Operational channel confirmed.

She spoke without reducing speed.

—Priority order from the Crimson Emperor. Full mobilization of all available armed forces. Prepare for urban encirclement and coordinated assault. Maintain position outside the target’s field of vision until further instruction.

There was a brief pause.

—Target identified?

The administrator glanced at Sebastián for a moment.

—House of Chains.

The channel remained silent for barely half a second. Then it responded:

—Received. Rules of engagement?

—Wait for direct confirmation. If the operation is activated, absolute closure of the perimeter. No member leaves the area.

—Captures authorized?

Sebastián answered before she did.

—Only if necessary to obtain information. They are eliminated afterward.

The administrator transmitted the order exactly as it had been spoken. There were no questions from the other side.

—Mobilization underway.

The channel closed.

For several seconds, the vehicle’s screen displayed multiple indicators changing status. Units moving from reserve to availability. Squads receiving preliminary coordinates. Transports leaving discreet depots. Weapons being prepared without lights or sirens.

Everything was happening far from the street.

The city still did not know that an entire force was beginning to surround one of its corners.

The administrator deactivated the screen.

—The units will take time to cover all the routes.

—They have time.

—How much?

—Until I decide.

They returned to silence.

The van entered the city through a secondary road. At that hour, the main thoroughfares remained illuminated, but traffic diminished as they moved away from the ordinary commercial districts. The administrator followed the coordinates sent by the House of Chains days earlier: a proposed location for a private meeting, presented as neutral territory, although any sufficiently old organization knew that neutrality existed only while no one had the strength to break it.

They passed through more exclusive neighborhoods.

Buildings of dark glass. Restored façades. Entrances without signs. Cameras hidden behind metal ornaments. Places built for people who paid precisely not to be seen.

The destination appeared at the end of a wide, empty street.

There were no pedestrians. No vehicles passed. The windows of the nearby buildings were dark, and the few visible cameras pointed toward controlled angles. The absence of people did not seem accidental. The House of Chains had chosen an hour and an area where its visitors could enter without outside eyes.

On the opposite side of the street stood a four-story building.

The façade was made of polished black stone, golden metal, and tinted glass. Amber lines of light ran along the entrance and formed a low, elegant glow without turning the place into a nightclub. Above the doors appeared a name written in thin letters:

CLUB VESPER

Officially, it was a private club.

A place for reserved dinners, business meetings, exclusive auctions, and entertainment for members capable of paying for silence. There was nothing on the exterior that spoke of cages, organs, blood, or people sold as property. Only luxury, security, and the promise that whatever happened behind the glass would not leave that place.

The van parked on the other side of the street. The administrator turned off the engine.

—This is the location they proposed —she said—. According to their messages, the leadership uses the club for meetings with buyers and allied organizations.

Sebastián observed the building.

—Is the leadership inside?

—They should be. I did not inform them that we were coming, but they maintain permanent staff throughout the night.

—Good.

He opened the door.

The city air entered colder than the air inside the van.

Sebastián stepped out still dressed in the dark pajamas. The fabric moved slightly in the wind. He carried no visible weapons. Nor did he wear footwear prepared for combat, beyond something comfortable he had taken before leaving. He needed nothing more.

The administrator stepped out from the other side and closed the door. She looked at the street.

Empty.

No one was smoking near a corner. No one was waiting for transportation. There were no clients arriving or vehicles parked in front of the club. Only the van across the street, the amber lights of the entrance, and two men guarding the doors.

The guards saw them approaching.

Both were around six foot three. The first was white, with precisely cut blond hair, a broad jaw, and a muscular body beneath a tailored black suit. The second was dark-skinned, with a shaved head, broader shoulders, and large hands crossed in front of his abdomen. They did not look like decorations for a luxurious entrance. Their posture revealed training, and beneath their jackets the discreet shapes of weapons were visible.

The blond man stepped forward.

—The club is closed.

The administrator did not slow her pace until she stood at a prudent distance.

—We are here for a meeting with the leadership of the House of Chains.

The two guards exchanged a look. Not much. Enough.

—Who are you? —the dark-skinned man asked.

The administrator maintained a professional tone.

—I represent the Crimson Empire. The House of Chains has sent several requests to meet with our leadership.

The blond man looked her over. Perhaps he recognized something in the way she spoke or in the confidence with which she had pronounced the name. Then he looked at Sebastián.

The pause lasted too long.

The administrator continued:

—He is the Crimson Emperor.

Neither responded at first.

The blond man looked at the pajamas. Then at Sebastián’s adolescent face. Then he looked at the other guard.

The first laugh was short, as though he had tried to contain it. The second came out louder.

The dark-skinned man tilted his head, showing his teeth.

—This child?

The administrator did not react.

The blond man burst into open laughter.

—That is the famous Crimson Emperor?

His voice echoed across the empty street. There was no one else to hear it.

The dark-skinned man examined Sebastián from head to toe.

—I thought they would at least send someone dressed up as an adult.

Both laughed again.

The administrator felt her stomach tighten.

Not because the words offended her.

Because she had already seen Sebastián’s stillness before he killed.

It was not an angry stillness. Nor the pause of someone trying to control an impulse. It was the complete absence of internal debate. When Sebastián decided that something had crossed a line, his body did not need to show it beforehand.

She opened her mouth.

—I advise you to—

Sebastián advanced.

He did not run.

The guards barely perceived that he had closed the distance.

The blond man kept laughing.

—What is it, kid? —he asked—. Did you not like the joke?

The dark-skinned man opened his arms slightly.

—Come on, brat. We will let you in if you promise not to wake your parents.

Sebastián stood between them.

Neither managed to interpret the movement of his arms.

The blows landed at the same time.

Two wet sounds, brief, too dense to resemble punches.

The guards’ heads exploded.

Their skulls gave way from the sides like containers struck by impossible pressure. Bone, blood, and brain matter were hurled against the black stone, the golden moldings, and the tinted glass of the entrance. A grayish mass remained stuck to one of the club’s letters. White fragments of jaw and teeth bounced across the polished floor.

The bodies remained standing for a fraction of a second.

Broken necks. Shoulders still tense. Hands that had not received the order to fall.

Then they collapsed.

The blond man fell backward, striking the doors before sliding down to the floor. The dark-skinned man fell to his knees first and then face-first, stretching his arms across the pool that was beginning to form. Blood continued pouring from the open remains of both necks, running through the joints in the stone and gathering in front of the threshold.

The laughter disappeared.

Only the dripping remained.

Sebastián lowered his hands.

There was no fury on his face. Nor satisfaction.

He had killed them because they had decided to turn his presence into a provocation and because he did not need guards incapable of recognizing the moment when they should remain silent. The decision had ended the same instant their bodies touched the ground.

The administrator remained motionless for a second.

She knew it could happen. Even so, watching two heads disappear before their owners understood the danger was different from anticipating it. Part of her wanted to look toward the street, search for witnesses, outside cameras, or lights turning on.

There was no one.

The street remained empty.

Sebastián approached the doors.

A security reader blinked beside the frame. Before the administrator could search the bodies for a credential, Sebastián took hold of one of the handles by the edge and pulled it.

The internal lock broke.

The metal deformed with a deep groan, and the door opened inward, dragging part of the mechanism with it. A warm light appeared behind the glass. Beyond it stretched a silent lobby, decorated with the same dark luxury as the façade.

The administrator composed her face again.

She adjusted her jacket, secured the device inside one of her pockets, and walked behind Sebastián. As she passed beside the corpses, she avoided looking at the remains stuck to the wall, although the metallic smell already filled the entrance.

Sebastián did not turn his head.

He entered Club Vesper still dressed for sleep.

The administrator followed him.

Behind them, the guards’ blood slowly began to cross the threshold.

The House of Chains had asked to meet the Crimson Emperor.

He had just entered.

__________________________________________

END OF Chapter 116 The path continues...

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