World's Best Protagonist [BL]-Chapter 48: The Rightful Heir (2)

Countless smug faces filled my vision. I rubbed my shoulder which hit the table’s edge after the bastard threw me. I’ve been trying to remember what his name was, but I couldn’t seem to.

In my memory, I just always called him father’s mad dog. Why do gangsters prefer floral shirts under their coats anyway? As if those bright prints would improve their reputation or deceive people.

"Sir Diego, did you bring your lover?" One of the smug faces asked with a laugh.

I glared at him. He flinched for a second, but he soon glared back at me, clearly asking for a fight.

"He’s a fierce one," another commented.

I glanced around. There are too many of them. Half of them stood by the door already, blocking my way. Boxes were littered around, and a few bottles of beer and cigarette butts on tables. I was wondering if they all were awakened as well when suddenly, hands grabbed my waist and began searching my body.

"Where did you put them?"

I slapped his hands away. "What are you looking for?"

"I’m checking something." Diego looked at me suspiciously. "Now that I think about it, there are only two funeral rooms in use. I heard the other person was a dead Seeker. So, a few NSA employees were there."

I met his eyes boring into mine, digging through my soul. I’m glad I threw my wallet and phone away.

"Are you one of them?"

My pulse skipped a beat. I held his gaze, never backing down and showing anything more than wariness and hatred.

"How dare you cause commotion at my friend’s funeral and disrespect him."

Diego’s brow raised. After a minute of discerning the truth in my words, he stepped away, hands up in the air and chuckling.

"You’ve got a very old friend there, young master."

"Age doesn’t matter in friendship."

Honestly, I didn’t even know if the dead was a man or a woman.

Diego flicked his hand. Another tail-wagging dog approached him. Then, he turned away, commanding the guy. "Make sure the young master is well-rested in his office. I’ll be back after speaking with the Lord."

I paused. Lord? He used to call my father ’boss’ or ’master’, what suddenly changed?

No, it might not be sudden. How long was I gone again? I ran away at the age of fourteen, and I just turned twenty-five this year. Eleven years is too long for things to remain the same.

I’m not at the slightest curious of what the changes are. I don’t even want to see that old man’s face. I don’t care if all the wealth he hoarded through illegal ways will be left on me once he dies since I won’t even show my face at his funeral.

I’m no longer his son.

Why does he keep wanting me back?

He can make that mad dog his heir for all I care! If he wants a direct bloodline to inherit his wealth and continue his legacy, he should make another child.

"You can wait here, young master."

I was led to the third floor, inside an office. The mahogany desk by the window has a nameplate over it. It wasn’t my name, but the mad dog’s. He is the president of this fraudulent company.

"What kind of goods does your company transport?" I asked one of the four men standing by the door. Three were on the window, making sure I wouldn’t even dare to jump outside.

No one answered me. My temper boiled. The least they could do was answer me. I walked to the desk and opened the drawers, but they were all locked. I moved to the boxes inside and ripped them open.

My hands froze, and an unbelievable laugh came out of my lips.

"Socks? Seriously?" I took a bundle out of the box and waggled it in their faces. "Is that bastard asking me to manage this socks-supplying company? Even a street vendor could handle this kind of job."

A few of them exchanged glances.

"Whose idea is this? Who was stupid enough to think the authorities won’t notice this ludicrous excuse of a company to hide their illegal biddings?" I scoffed, then threw the plastic of socks on one of the men’s faces.

"You shitty—"

"It’s not stupid if it’s the authorities’ grease pocket, is it?" Diego came in. He stood before the guy who answered me, and without warning, slapped him in the face.

The crisp sound of that hit resonated in the walls, followed by a suppressed groan of the victim. I simply checked the time on the wall clock and frowned after seeing it was past dinner time.

"He is our Lord’s only son. So, don’t speak rudely to him," Diego warned afterward.

I don’t care if they cursed me or not. They will soon end up in jail anyway. But what did he mean by the authorities’ grease pockets? Has the gang grown so much that they have connections even to the government now?

What the hell is that old man up to?

"I spoke with your father. He wanted to meet you as soon as possible. Seems like he missed you very much, young master."

"Don’t joke with me."

Even if I use my ability against them, fighting against eight men is foolish. Diego smirked, seemingly aware of what I was thinking, except about my ability.

They couldn’t have known it, right?

The media only released the results of the vortex raid and the names of the dead. However, if they start investigating me—

"Let’s go."

Diego waited for me. I remained still. I wasn’t hesitating, it was just... I just feel like I might explode if I saw my father again. The memories I’ve kept in the back of my head will surely resurface.

If my mother taught me grief and sorrow, that old geezer taught me anger, hatred, resentment, and so on, you can name every negative feeling there is, and I’d blame it all on him.

Eleven years of smoothing my life, living normally, acting normally—is everything going to end here?

"Young master. The Lord is waiting."

If I stepped forward, I would soon be reminded of how the rightful heir, Jade, was. After meeting the Alpha team, I learned many things, finally regretted the way I used to live, and tried to change.

Now, I admit, for the first time, the young Jade scares me.