* * *

  “What are you doing here?” Sir Hendry, my superior at the construction site, called out to me spitefully while adjusting his pants. The way he glared at me made it clear that if he could, he would swallow me whole right then and there.

  “Oh, sir. I have something for you,” I replied calmly, forcing a faint smile onto my face as I took the envelope from my pocket and handed it to him. Sir Hendry looked at me with a mixture of confusion and irritation as he snatched the envelope away from my grasp in a rather ill-mannered fashion.

  I could tell he was unaccustomed to my unfamiliar demeanor at that moment. I was making direct eye contact with him, something I had rarely done in the past.

  The old me always tried to act submissive in front of those who were older or held a superior position, regardless of whether they were right or wrong. This behavior had been instilled in me by my mother, a lesson I regretted following after my injury.

  “What is this?” he demanded, his voice dripping with disdain. “You better not waste my time, or I’m going to cut your wages again.”

  He then harshly tore open the envelope, revealing a piece of folded paper inside. With a frown etched on his face, he unfolded it and began to read.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, looking at me with a mix of incredulity and peculiarity after finishing what was written.

  Countless individuals out there would do anything for the chance to work here, especially given the low acceptance rate for jobs. Yet here I was, asking to quit.

  Many of those who held higher positions took advantage of their authority, treating their workers like slaves. Even then, there was little that common folks could do but remain subservient, lest they succumb to hunger.

  However, I also had heard that in the past, even before the economy had been drowned in conflicts, there were companies that operated in the same manner. As long as they had connections with the police force's top brass or were directly linked to a few corrupt government authorities, no one could file any reports against them.

  “Yes sir. I’m sure of it,” I said, without breaking the eye contact.

  “Okay then. Clean up all of your luggage and get the hell out of here,” he spoke with a sneer. He also muttered, “Ungrateful bastard,” while striding off inside and closing the door, which I put a stop to by using my shoe.

  “Wait sir, the rest of my pay?” I asked with a mirthless smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

  “What the hell are you thinking about? What pay? If you want to quit, go. You rest here, you bathe here, and you eat here. Do you think this place is a charity? What pay did you deserve, huh?” he scolded me at length. His face turned red in anger, like a cooked shrimp.

  With how he uttered all his tirade in one breath – it seemed it had been inside his mind for quite some time by now, in which, he hated his subordinate. He was the project manager here – but what he did was lounge around all day, leaving all the job at the hand of his assistant.

  “From the last of my payment, I worked here for around twenty-one days. Isn’t it my right to receive the payment from that?” I replied smoothly without a break. I just knew exactly what ticked him off. While I had worked silently here before like some kind of background character, I was actually the kind of someone who always noted everything in my surroundings, including people's emotions and personalities.

  To judge and decide who was not easily offended, and chill with their attitude in life. Those people were what I walked to when I needed help or just interacted casually with. People who had never been satisfied with what they had, then vent it to the innocent people around them usually letting out so much negativity, which, in my depressed state before, made my life even worse than it already was.

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  “Huh. Hahaha. Are you serious right now? Payment? Twenty-one what? Hahahaha,” he guffawing right at my face with derision – as if he heard the funniest jokes in a century. His beer belly trembled like there was an alien inside.

  His saliva was splashed everywhere, and I needed to pull my head away from him, even though there was distance between our positions. Seeing what I did, he eyed me with a bubbling rage, which I purposely ignored.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe because of your age, that’s why you didn’t hear me clearly. I said, twenty-one days of my…” my words were abruptly cut off as he bristled at me.

  “You crazy b&%()&%^&R^$^&^*&#. Get out right now before I call security,” his hand lifted high, wanting to slap me. Of course, he didn’t dare to. There was a time when he annoyed me so much that I couldn’t hold it any longer, so I resisted his unreasonable orders.

  He wanted to punch me in front of everyone, and I slapped his hand away harshly, while silently looking at him. He backed away, visibly scared. Since then, he hadn’t dared to be physical with me. Just when I somehow pissed him off for no reason, he cut my wage without directly confronting me. Truly the trashiest of the trashes.

  I lifted both of my hands and sighed.

  “Okay then, so that’s how you want to play it, huh,” inside my head though, I was gleefully glad that he confronted me. This was something I really wanted to do since I gained my future memories.

  Then just as I was done speaking, my right finger clenched, and I whipped it directly to his face. It was a fast motion – and before he even managed to register it into his brain, he blinked once, and my fist already came into contact with his nose and mouth. It was a left jab – my favorite move when I was still the crazy teenager who involved myself in countless street fights to vent my anger.

  Bam

  Sneak attack? Yes. That was my capability. My master – secretly was a hitman after all.

  Sir Hendry dropped to the ground like a sack of rice, trembling while yelping in pain, holding onto his bloodied, broken nose.

  “Argh, uh, uh…” he then spitted out a few broken teeth onto his hand, now covered with saliva mixed with blood. From his expression, I knew he seemed to swallow a few of it. Who knows how many?

  All I knew was that – I felt contented with his misery. Smiling brightly like a psychopath, I approached him.

  “Ahh, you a murderer. Help. There is a murderer here. Help,” he flinched, then screamed like a pig about to be slaughtered. He crawled away seeing me close the distance between us. He wanted to prop himself using his hand, but it seems he hurt his hand when he fell – must be thanks to his weighing fats then.

  No one came, of course, because it all stems from his decision to not let any of the closest rooms from here be occupied. Reason? Well, looking at his wretched face, who knew what he hid in his office?

  Seeing I was getting closer, he pressed his back against the floor. He wanted to kick me using both of his legs, but I easily caught it. Putting my leg in between his, I kicked lightly – and that was enough to elicit a girlish squeal from him. I also kneaded it a few more times with a grin. Luckily there was my shoe in between, or I would be disgusted too, by what I was doing.

  “Arrgghh. Arrggh. Stop. Stop… you crazy bastard, argh…” Sir Henry’s fat jiggled while holding onto the pain.

  Feeling satisfied enough of tormenting him, I curled two of my middle knuckles into a fist shape, then struck at both of his thighs with enough force to reach what I intended the strikes to. And it actually was at his femoral nerve, causing temporary paralysis in his legs.

  I moved on to the next strike – swiftly striking his shoulders, in the brachial plexus, causing temporary paralysis in his arms. The last was his jaw, located in the mandibular nerve. It temporarily caused the nerve control for the muscle in the jaw to be immobile, hence, the name of this strike was called, Jaw Lock.

  I had enough of playing the nice guy. Let’s be evil for once.

  (A/N: Targeting nerves and pressure points is dangerous and should never be attempted without proper training and supervision. So, don’t do it!!!)

  Subsequently, I kneel on his side, then grasp his cheeks menacingly, as I direct my sharp, intimidating gaze at Sir Henry's eyes, which were widened in disbelief. Yeah, must be pretty hard to believe someone as scrawny as me, who had an innocent look like I was someone who couldn’t even kill a chicken, could make him paralyzed like this.

  To add to this rare, marvelous ambiance, I pulled out a screwdriver with the edge of my lips slowly lifted. Then, I pressed it to the side of his neck, until it drew a little bit of his blood. I could see sweat soak his body, glistening on his face too. It was a face full of fear and horror.

  “Hear this, you little sh*t. You better tell me where you keep your money that I deserve, or I’m going to kill you now, understood??? If you are – nod, so I will unlock your jaw at least. You better be obedient, or my hand might slip…” I pressed the corkscrew even deeper into his flesh, drawing more blood.

  Sir Henry then hastily nodded his head repeatedly, while whimpering.

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