Oran Fennel POV
The chair smashed into the wall with a loud crack.
Shards of wood clattered to the floor as Oran Fennel let out a snarl and kicked aside the broken remains.
Papers flew off the desk as he swept his arm across it, sending a glass sculpture crashing to the ground.
“What the hell is happening!?” he bellowed, pacing back and forth behind his overturned desk. “Why are we falling apart like this?”
The office looked nothing like it had yesterday.
Cabinets stood open, contents spilled across the floor.
The thick carpet was covered with broken glass, toppled lamps, and spilled drinks.
Oran’s tailored jacket was wrinkled, his tie loose, and the sweat on his forehead glistened under the harsh ceiling light.
He grabbed the edge of his desk again and slammed it with both fists, knuckles red.
“Everything was stable! Profits were steady, partnerships were secure, and now they’re vanishing like smoke!”
Across the room, his secretary stood frozen near the door.
The man in a slim gray suit, hesitant to move, remained unsure if this was the right time to speak, or if he’d be the next thing hurled across the room.
“Speak!” Oran snapped, eyes bloodshot as they locked onto him. “Don’t just stand there like a goddamn coat rack!”
The secretary flinched, then cleared his throat.
“S-sir. Our investors pulled out overnight. All of them. The Zivon Group, Nymira Pharma, even the Lok Trade Alliance.”
“I know that already!” Oran roared. “I want to know why! We’ve been profitable! Reliable! We met every quota and delivered every product on time!”
He took a shaky breath, then slammed the side of a shelf with his shoulder. It rattled, a few folders slipping to the ground.
“I called the Governor’s office. Three times, but there was no response.” His voice dropped to a dangerous tone. “Why is he not helping? After all I’ve done for him! After all I covered up! How dare the Governor ignore us now!”
The secretary hesitated.
“S-sir… there’s a possibility—only a possibility —but…”
Oran turned toward him slowly, expression deadly. “Spit it out.”
The young man swallowed hard. “Perhaps it was Miss Selene.”
Everything stopped.
The buzz of Oran’s fury froze, mid-motion.
His shoulders stiffened.
His fingers unclenched from the twisted edge of his desk.
He stared straight ahead, unmoving.
“…Selene?” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.
The secretary nodded once. “I’ve heard she was the one who pushed the investors away. That she sent word to several guilds, and there is also a chance she advised the Governor to let the Fennel Company collapse.”
Oran stood silent for a long moment, then began to laugh. It started as a low, humorless chuckle and slowly rose, sharper and louder.
“Oh,” he said, between laughs. “Oh, of course. Of course.”
He turned, eyes wild, pacing again.
“That bitch. That two-faced whore.”
His voice rose to a yell.
“She dares—dares—to do this to me? After everything I gave her? I built her position! Gave her access! Protected her reputation!”
He grabbed the edge of a bookshelf and yanked it down. The crash echoed through the office. A portrait frame shattered underneath it.
“She backstabs me for him? Why—”
Oran suddenly stopped.
He looked at the assistant.
“It’s that farmer, isn’t it?”
“Sir?”
“She betrayed me because I told her we were going to crush the farmer, isn’t it!? Her attitude during the Economic Council was enough to reveal who she was supporting!”
He turned, eyes bloodshot, spit flying from his lips.
“That weak, smug-faced bastard who thinks planting vegetables makes him important?! That’s who she’s siding with now?!”
The secretary backed up a step. “S-sir, perhaps we should calm down—”
“Shut up!” Oran screamed. “You don’t get to speak right now!”
He walked toward the center of the room and clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
“If she wants to side with him,” he muttered, teeth grinding together, “then she can be with him. In the grave.”
The secretary went pale.
“Sir…?”
“I want them both dead.”
The young man’s eyes widened. “What—what did you say?”
Oran turned toward him slowly. “Put a hit order on both their heads. I don’t care the price. I want them erased.”
“Sir… that’s—”
“I said do it!” Oran shouted, slamming his fist into a nearby table. It cracked down the middle and tipped over.
“She backstabbed me. She sided against me. And for what? Some upstart kid with a new farm and a couple of fancy endorsements? You think I’ll let this go?” He pointed at the ground, trembling with rage. “I’ll send them both to hell!”
The secretary stepped back, breath quickening. “Sir… this is dangerous. Even if you’re angry, you can’t—”
“I have nothing left to lose!” Oran shouted.
He grabbed a file and threw it across the room. It burst open midair, papers fluttering like broken feathers.
“And neither do you! You were my closest supporter so you will drown with me! Don’t you want your revenge?!”
He glared.
“They betrayed us. Fine. But we are not going alone.”
He stalked toward his liquor cabinet and yanked out a crystal bottle. He didn’t bother with a glass. He took a long swig, then hurled the bottle at the far wall.
It shattered. Whiskey dripped down the frame of a painting.
“But, sir… killing Selene and the Awakener will only draw more attention. It could turn the public—”
“Do I look like I care?” Oran barked.
He turned back toward the window, eyes fixed on the city skyline. The distant lights of the middle ring shimmered like they were mocking him.
“Selene thinks she’s clever,” he whispered. “That bitch.”
He laughed again, bitterly this time.
“I made her. I can break her.”
Silence followed. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then the secretary, still visibly shaken, cleared his throat again.
“Sir, even if we move forward with… that plan, the company itself is collapsing. We’ve lost half our assets. Our outer ring warehouses were seized this morning. We’re behind on our contractual deliveries.”
“Then burn the records,” Oran said calmly. “We’re not surviving this. So we make sure no one else does either.”
He reached for his private terminal and began typing.
“Leak our client list. Every governor, guild rep, and Awakener who ever bought off-book. Send it anonymously to the press. Spread it across the network.”
“Sir…?”
Oran’s tone was dead cold.
“Didn’t I say it? If I’m going down, then I’m dragging them all with me.”
Finally, the secretary moved.
The door closed behind the secretary, leaving Oran alone in the wreckage of what had once been one of the city’s most influential private offices.
He looked around the room—his trophies, his certificates, his accolades—all lying in ruin.
He reached for a shard of broken glass on the floor and turned it in his hand, watching the reflection of his face, distorted and broken.
“You wanted a war,” he muttered to the empty room. “Fine. You’ll get one.”
And with that, he turned back to his console and waiting for the secretary to arrange the hit orders, data leaks, and last-minute fire sales.
If the world had decided to forget Oran Fennel, he’d make damn sure it remembered the crater he left behind.
…
Isaac POV
Alice and Isaac left the dining hall.
They reached her room at the end of the corridor.
She opened the door and walked in, heading straight to the desk near the window where a neat stack of documents lay waiting.
Isaac stood near the entrance, watching as she gathered the papers.
“You’re really serious about this business plan, huh?”
“Of course, I am. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.” She slid the papers into a slim black folder and turned. “Let’s go. Uncle should be in his office by now.”
The chairman’s office was located in a different wing of the estate.
The place was quiet. The hallway was lined with old portraits and muted lighting. It felt like stepping into a different world.
When they reached the tall wooden doors, Alice knocked once and pushed them open.
Lucius was seated behind a large desk, a tablet in hand, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The moment they stepped in, he put the device down and leaned back.
His expression was serious, all business. “Let’s begin.”
Alice nodded and placed the folder on the desk in front of him. Isaac remained standing beside her.
“Our plan is simple,” she began. “We want to open a large-scale retail store near the border of the middle and outer rings of the city.”
Lucius opened the folder and started scanning through the papers. “Why that area?”
Alice gestured toward the map included in the documents. “The middle ring contains high-end residential zones, commercial hubs, and a high concentration of wealthy civilians and mid to low-rank Awakeners. The outer ring has the general population—students, laborers, and low-tier Awakeners.”
Isaac stepped forward slightly, and looked at her plans.
“So we are going to target both groups at once.”
“Exactly,” Alice said. “That gives us two key demographics. One looking for quality and performance. The other looking for affordability and consistency.”
Lucius nodded but didn’t comment yet. He kept flipping through the pages.
“We’ll split our inventory accordingly,” Alice continued. “Since Isaac is already producing premium crops and herbs—the ones Selene recommended for Awakeners—we’ll sell those at a high price for the middle ring.
“And offer regular vegetables and food supplies at lower prices for the general crowd. It helps spread our name while still making money.”