The thought of not bothering his adversaries did not once cross Averie’s mind.
But after witnessing the vision that showed their continued efforts and Hyerin’s distress, he wanted to dismantle them to their core.
He wanted to send a ssage to the industry and the Weisin Conglorate. He wanted to show them the true height of spite and hatred.
And he seized the opportunity when Hyerin talked about having a small celebration to unwind from the stress of the scandal.
This was his chance to slip away, and he had spent the last three days planning and preparing for it.
With his arms crossed, Averie was leaning against the cold pillar, tapping his elbows every second.
He was counting seconds to determine the ti.
He had left his phone back in Hyerin’s apartnt, so he had no way of knowing the ti and no way to pass it.
He must have spent half an hour hiding in the shadow of the pillar when he noticed the number over the elevator doors change.
’7th floor... 6th floor... 5th floor...’
The elevator was moving.
Averie clung tightly to the pillar, making himself as small as humanly possible.
’1st floor... B1.’
With a pleasant ring, the sliding tal doors opened.
A man dressed in a blue suit stepped out. He looked to be in his late 40s or early 50s.
It was Walter Dean, the Head of Managent Team 1.
Averie could recognize him from the mole under his right eye, which he had seen when he adjusted the rear-view mirror of his car in the tattoo’s vision.
He could have looked him up online, but he did not want that na in his search history. Even if he could delete it from his browser, his internet provider could still see it.
Looking up Loret was fine, but Walter Dean was too risky. They had never once t. There would be no reason for Averie to search his na unless he was planning sothing.
Averie did not want to take such risks.
Pressed against the pillar, he watched the man from the shadows.
"Yes, of course."
He was on a call.
"I have already told her, but she never listens. I will talk to her again."
He walked out of the elevator and made his way towards the white sedan.
Observing Walter’s back, Averie stirred out of the shadows. With light feet, he moved towards the elevator and stuck in his foot before the doors could close.
He pressed the button for the 12th floor, which was the highest the elevator could go, and returned to his place behind the pillar.
The elevator went up. There was no escape for Averie’s prey.
Walter climbed into his car. Like the reckless man that he was, he started the car and put it in reverse while still on the phone. He backed into the can of body spray.
Unable to handle the weight of the vehicle, the pressurized cylinder exploded with a loud bang, sending half of it flying across the parking lot.
It spread a mist of scented droplets that vaporized almost imdiately.
Walter Dean stopped the car hastily and pulled the handbrake.
"No, it wasn’t a gunshot. It ca from my car. I’ll call you back."
After hanging the call, he got out of the car and moved towards its rear.
"What is this sll?"
He covered his nose.
"It hasn’t even been a week since the last maintenance," he muttered, examining the body of the vehicle. "Please be sothing easy to fix."
He checked the fuel tank, the trunk, and finally, the tires.
"What is this?"
He picked up the crushed piece of the cylinder to examine it.
"Chocolate flavor—"
But before he could finish reading, Averie rushed out of his hiding place and kicked Walter’s head into the trunk of the car.
The loud bang was followed by the sound of sothing cracking.
Feeling extre pain and unable to speak, he staggered, dripping blood on the floor. For about five seconds, he forgot how to breathe.
"Not eting Patricia today, Mr. Dean?" Averie said in a slightly gruff voice. "That just makes sad. I wanted to see the lovely lady tonight."
For that reason alone, he hadn’t ambushed Walter right after he stepped out of the elevator.
He had placed the body spray under the rear wheel precisely to find out if Patricia would be coming or not. There would be very little reason for Walter to back up the vehicle if she were planning to visit.
Without any weapons, there would be no way to ambush a man in a locked car. So, the pressurized cylinder also served to distract the old man.
Averie looked at the disoriented Walter on the floor. An unbelievable surge of bloodlust rushed through his veins. It scread at him to dismantle this pathetic piece of lard.
Taken over by his desires, he kicked the man in the face repeatedly, breaking a tooth in the process. He stomped on his fingers and jumped on his stomach, making the man belch.
He hadn’t felt such rage in years, and he was not planning to hold back tonight.
Averie opened the trunk as the terrified man tried to crawl and escape towards the elevator. That was all he could do as his phone was in his car.
He repeatedly pressed the button to call the elevator, but it was on the twelfth floor. It would take a while before it reached him.
"What do you—Just take what you want!" he uttered in an attempt to persuade the mysterious attacker. "Why assault an old man like this?"
His legs were weak, and his voice shaky.
"Do you have no sha?"
"Sha is a strong word, Mr. Dean. I don’t think you understand anything about it. Just for uttering that word, I am going to beat you even more than I was planning to."
Averie picked up the lug wrench from the car’s trunk.
"And speaking of sha, don’t raise your voice at . I am far older compared to you."
Watching the man stride towards him, Walter tried to run away, only to be hit squarely in the back of his head.
The sound of tal hitting one’s skull was a terrifying thing to experience, and Walter was realizing that for the first ti in his life.
Perhaps if he had realized that sooner, he would not have gotten himself in the crosshairs of a madman.
He tried to crawl away, but Averie dragged him by the ankle back to his car.
"There is no escape. Pray to your deity, and try to stay alive."
With the lug wrench squeezed tightly in his hand, Averie began harrowingly beating the man.
There was not a shred of empathy in his eyes, and his heart was as cold as the day Gene Conti died.
"These are the consequences of your actions."
He repeatedly hit Walter’s knees until a crunch was heard.
His kneecaps were shattered. A blood-curdling shriek filled the empty parking lot.
"You are going to need to replace those." He stomped on his mouth. "No need to scream so much. I doubt anyone’s still in the building."
’If anyone does co, they are dood too.’
"Rember my eyes. You will see them again—even in your nightmares."
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