The city admired Kim.

  Kim was the owner of the company name Ragebuilder a private company.

  They admired his speeches, his calm voice, the way he spoke about justice and reform. Cameras loved him. Crowds cheered him. Newspapers described him as composed, disciplined, visionary.

  Albert knew a different version.

  For years, Albert had worked in Kim’s shadow. Not as an advisor. Not as a partner. Just a trusted worker — the kind who handled private documents, arranged confidential meetings, destroyed files when instructed, and never asked questions.

  But over time, patterns became impossible to ignore.

  Funds redirected. Land transferred illegally. Contracts signed under fake names. Deals made in rooms where doors were locked and phones were left outside.

  Albert never confronted Kim.

  He never threatened him.

  He only knew.

  And knowing, in Kim’s world, was enough.

  That evening, Albert had something else on his mind.

  He had promised his wife dinner. A proper dinner. After years of late nights and missed conversations, he wanted to sit across from her, hold her hand, and feel normal again.

  He had just finished dressing when his phone vibrated.

  Kim.

  Albert answered immediately.

  “I need you back at the house,” Kim said. His tone was smooth. Almost friendly. “Some additional files.”

  “Sir… I was about to leave. I—”

  “It won’t take long,” Kim interrupted calmly. “You’re reliable, Albert. That’s why I trust you.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Trust.

  The word felt heavy.

  Albert looked at his wife. She nodded gently, hiding her disappointment.

  “I’ll be quick,” he told her.

  He left.

  Kim’s residence was quieter than usual when Albert arrived.

  No staff moving around.

  No guests.

  Just stillness.

  A guard directed him downstairs.

  Albert hesitated for a second.

  He had been to the basement before — storage, archived records, unused furniture. Nothing unusual.

  But tonight, the air felt heavier.

  When he stepped down the final stair, he saw them.

  Three men standing against the wall.

  And Kim.

  Kim wasn’t smiling.

  “Sir?” Albert asked carefully.

  Kim approached slowly. His face looked calm — too calm.

  “You’ve been with me a long time,” Kim said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ve seen a lot.”

  Albert swallowed. “Only what you assign me.”

  Kim stared at him for a long moment.

  Then something shifted.

  It was small — a twitch in his jaw. A tightening in his eyes.

  “You think I don’t notice?” Kim’s voice lowered. “You think I don’t see the way you pause when you read?”

  Albert’s heart began to pound.

  “Sir, I would never—”

  Before he could finish, one of the men grabbed his arms.

  Albert struggled instantly. “Sir, please! I haven’t told anyone. I swear—”

  That was the wrong sentence.

  Kim’s calm expression cracked.

  His breathing grew heavier. His face flushed. The controlled public mask was gone.

  “You swear?” Kim repeated, his voice rising. “You swear?”

  He grabbed Albert by the collar and shoved him hard against the wall.

  “You think loyalty gives you the right to know my business?” Kim shouted.

  Albert tried to explain. Tried to speak. Fear poured out of him in broken words.

  Kim didn’t listen.

  The first strike came suddenly — Albert’s head forced back against concrete.

  A sharp sound echoed in the basement.

  Kim stepped back for a second, chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Then he lunged again.

  This time there was no control.

  No calculation.

  Only rage.

  He slammed Albert against the wall again and again, shouting incoherently, years of paranoia and anger exploding at once.

  The guards looked at each other but didn’t interfere.

  Kim wasn’t calm anymore.

  He looked unrecognizable — face twisted, eyes wild, spitting accusations that didn’t even make sense.

  “You think you can ruin me?”

  “You think you’re smarter?”

  “You think you’re clean?”

  Albert’s resistance weakened.

  His voice faded.

  But Kim didn’t stop immediately.

  He continued until there was no movement left.

  Silence slowly returned to the basement.

  Kim stood there, breathing heavily, staring at what he had done.

  A few seconds passed.

  Then the mask returned.

  He straightened his coat.

  His breathing slowed.

  His voice became steady again.

  “Make it look accidental,” he said quietly.

  The men nodded.

  Kim walked upstairs.

  By morning, the city would hear about a tragic incident.

  And somewhere else in that same city, a woman would wait for a man who was never coming home.

  Albert left behind a son named Ronin.

  Six years passed. The boy was no longer a child.

  He was old enough now to start asking questions.