The Video

Percival left the north city and drove straight to his villa. He steered with one hand and glanced at the rearview mirror, touching the painful, bloodied cuts on his face. Though just superficial wounds, they were tough to fade.

Initially just red, by tomorrow they'd be swollen and turn purplish-blue. Aside from his face, his shoulders and legs were also throbbing with pain after Trent had brutally punched and kicked him. Just braking and steering were painfully sharp.

But compared to Trent, he was off much better. Thinking about what Percival had said made him furious with himself for not hitting Trent harder, wishing he had crippled him.

Just then, his phone vibrated. Percival didn't check it immediately and kept driving. It was ten at night when he got to the villa's parking. He saw a light on in an upstairs bedroom—Eulalia must still be awake.

At home, Percival finally checked his phone. Seeing the number twisted his face with anger—Trent, again. It was definitely nothing good, bu