neck ring
Many late nights, Milo sat in the store typing on his computer. This handsome curly-haired man spoke broken English and his cheeks would turn red when he paid for things.
He was always the last one to leave the club next door. The lights were dim, and he would stand under the door smoking, a cigarette burning down, a silent loneliness etched on his face.
Later, Milo would deliberately save him a hot plate of sushi and sell it to him after work. He gradually became more talkative, trying hard to communicate, talking about his family who were far away and living in poverty, and about his unrealistic dream of learning to play the piano.
“Milo, am I stupid?” he always said.
“Milo, thank you for being my friend.” He always repeated this sentence.
"I will make more money, and then I will take you away from Wudong Port." Youzhen's gentle murmur by his bedside echoed in his ears again.
Is this how he makes money? In the years since leaving Wudong Port, Milo thought he had escaped the mire, but now he thinks that perhaps he never really struggled out at all.
The utterly humiliating scene sent chills down Milo's spine, and what disgusted him even more were all the onlookers.
Milo wanted to stop it all, but he didn't dare let Yuuma see his face.
In a lewd show, it's shameful enough to have sex with a fat, old man for money; if his friends see this, the humiliation will surely shatter the last bit of his self-respect.
Whether you stop them or not, it's a dead end.
Milo closed his eyes, his blood surging, enduring the groans filling the arena.
But the white-haired man seemed unsatisfied. He reached out and grabbed the collar around Yuzhen's neck, his excessive force nearly suffocating Yuzhen, who collapsed to the ground.
The white-haired man refused to give up and tried to climb up and strangle Yu-chan again, seemingly wanting to kill her in the heat of passion before he would stop.
Steven, who had remained unmoved by the performance, couldn't help but turn cold: "That old bastard."
With a loud bang, Blaze stepped onto the stage. He grabbed the white-haired man's head with one hand and slammed it down so hard that the man was dizzy and screamed.
A waiter quickly stood by the table and said loudly, "Gentlemen! We have all signed an agreement. It is agreed that we can have fun, but we cannot use such methods to coerce people. It could lead to someone's death."
Blaise released his grip, and the white-haired man, terrified by his violence and tyranny, nodded in agreement.
Yuzhen, who had been nearly choked unconscious, lay on the ground, struggling to get up. Her gaze inadvertently met that of Milo, who was kneeling by the edge of the platform.
Despite the white snake scale mask, Yuuma felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity with the person behind it.
Countless nights, he deliberately stayed up until the very last person to leave work, just to wait for the lights to come on at the little shop next door. He had long been accustomed to sketching Milo's appearance through his observation. He loved watching the college student typing away on his computer under the lamplight, loved the way he stared blankly at the rainy day, loved the gentle tenderness that unconsciously shone through when he played with stray cats and dogs. These fragments of Milo were real and vivid, secrets he had accumulated day by day.
These secrets were unspeakable, for he was too ashamed to even utter a word. He thought that as long as Milo didn't despise him, he would try his best to keep them hidden, so that at least he would have a clean image in Milo's eyes.
But now, it's gone.
Yu-chan's body suddenly trembled, and then, uncontrollable tears silently welled up.
Seeing Yu-chan cry, Milo felt a sudden pang in his heart. The feeling was intense, touching his very soul, making him feel as if he was about to lose something again.
Having learned his lesson and been warned, the white-haired man grabbed a wad of banknotes from the table and threw them at Youzhen, then tried to drag him by the leg to do it again.
But this time, Yuma refused no matter what.
He struggled desperately, but because he had no strength and the shackles around his neck left him with no room to resist.
Enraged, the white-haired man slapped Youzhen across the face, knocking him to the ground.
Almost at the same moment, Milo, gripping the two-pronged seafood fork in his hand, suddenly rushed forward and charged straight at the man, catching everyone off guard.
The fork pierced his eyeball, eliciting a pitiful scream.
This scene shocked everyone present.
Milo, clutching a blood-stained fork and dragging his unsteady feet, stood shakily in front of Yuzhen. He grabbed a tablecloth and covered Yuzhen with it, shattering plates and dishes all over the floor.
Discontent immediately arose from under the round table, and even Steven stood up abruptly, seemingly incredulous at Milo's foolish move.
The white-haired man wailed, and the elites below the stage, not understanding why such an accident had occurred, clamored for the person in charge to handle it.
Blaise's face turned cold, and he was thoroughly annoyed. Urged on by the crowd, he went on stage, adjusting his hearing aid as he walked. He really didn't want to hear the wailing and screaming that was about to begin.
The towering shadow, like the Grim Reaper, drew ever closer to Milo.
Milo subconsciously turned to look at Steven below the stage, his face covered in cold sweat.
However, Steven simply smiled and decided to watch the show without getting involved.
Milo felt a pang of guilt, seemingly disgusted with himself for that one glance he had just given her.
After Milo resolutely turned his face away, Steven felt a sudden emptiness in his heart for some reason. He couldn't quite understand how quickly his thoughts had changed; it seemed as if he had quietly shifted his stance in an instant.
Seeing Milo standing alone and helpless on the stage, Steven raised an eyebrow and decided to go up on stage to solve his problem.
But before he could do anything, he witnessed a scene that surprised him.
On stage, Milo peeled off his white snake scale mask with one hand, revealing a sweaty face.
The moment Blaze saw Milo's face, an overwhelming shock appeared on his face.
Milo stood still. Yuzhen staggered to his feet, grabbed Milo's hand, and stood in front of Milo with his tall body. But Milo gripped his hand tightly and refused to back down.
Blaise's gaze fell on their clasped hands.
This scene is remarkably similar to the scene outside the open-air restaurant in Wudong Port, where Milo stood up for Yuma and provoked the rich kid.
He really is... quite caring.
With a loud "bang," Blaze kicked Yuuma's knee with terrifying force, and Yuuma immediately fell to his knees in pain.
Before Milo could react, Blaise flicked the safety off the slide with his thumb, and with a click, the safety was released.
This sudden commotion nearly terrified the elite men who were having a good time.
A lesson is a lesson, and murder is murder. These are two different things.
Milo stared defiantly at Blaise, pressing his gun against Blaise's muzzle, refusing to yield an inch.
Blaze gripped the gun with his right hand and pulled back the slide with his left. A mechanical scraping sound rang out as a bullet was chambered. His index finger rested on the trigger; with just a slight bend, the man's head would explode.
Milo remained unmoved.
With a "bang," Blaze fired, the bullet grazing Milo's ear, shattering the vase and startling everyone present.
Blaze stepped forward, grabbed Milo by the collar, and practically dragged him off the stage, pulling him towards the show's exit, where it was shrouded in darkness.
Yuzhen was terrified and wanted to follow to save the person.
Steven, sitting in the audience, slowly regained his composure. He was surprised by his decision just now, feeling a sense of shame at being misled by the Stand. This shame transformed into resentment towards Milo. He said slowly, "That guy is really good at bewitching people. If you don't follow him, he'll at most get raped. But if you do follow him, and something unexpected happens, he might end up with a terrible death."
Yuzhen trembled, her hands gripping her palms tightly, but she couldn't keep up.
Milo was practically dragged along the ground as he walked to the back. Blaze pressed down on his swollen shoulder and slammed him against the wall, causing Milo to see stars from the pain.
You dare disobey me?
A clear and accurate sign language was followed by another sentence.
You dare to force me?
Milo, who was kneeling on the ground from exhaustion, raised his face and looked up at Blaise standing in front of him. Despite being pale with pain, he still managed a smile.
Blaise gestured, his anger intensifying: Don't laugh with his face.
Milo laughed even harder.
A person's neck is so fragile; to him, such a person could be dealt with with a little effort. But Blaise only felt troubled at this moment.
Blaise gestured: Keep laughing, that guy on stage will die soon.
Milo followed Blaze's gaze and saw Yuuma being brutally beaten by the white-haired old man. The smile on Milo's face gradually disappeared.
Blaze lifted Milo's face, his grip so strong it nearly crushed his jaw.
The sign language was unusually slow this time: You want me to save him? There's a way. Since you're so eager to sell yourself, you might as well go all the way.
Milo understood.
The angle at which he knelt on the ground was just right to provide Blaise with a vivid and sensual service.
This is a complete and utter insult.
Milo gritted his teeth and glared at Blaise, but Yuma in the center of the round platform had already been pinned to the ground by the white-haired man and was being slapped repeatedly until his nose was bleeding.
In the darkness, Milo raised his hand and touched Blaze's pants.
Just as he was about to pull down his waistband, Blaze suddenly erupted into extreme rage, as if in a stress reaction. He gripped Milo's hand tightly and flung it away with such force that he almost smashed him to pieces.
Blaise gestured: You're willing to be this despicable.
Unable to contain his rage, the gun in his hand became unbearably hot, and he slammed his fist against the deck wall.
Milo tilted his head back and said, enunciating each word clearly, "Didn't you force me to do this?"
Blaze was so angry his mind went blank. Who was forcing whom? He had clearly warned him not to leave the room, clearly didn't want him to get involved, but Milo was saying he was forcing him. Blaze hadn't been this angry in years, but this person in front of him made him want to devour him whole.
He is definitely not Theo Green, but how dare he do something like this using Theo Green's face?
Blaze's eyes were bloodshot. He took a deep breath and pressed the gun against Milo's throat.
*
Ms. Beverly knocked on Miles' door.
Miles opened the door and rubbed his temples. The room was brightly lit; he had been reviewing the documents Milo had compiled all night.
To be honest, he didn't think Milo could do it well, so he deliberately gave himself time to rework. But as it turned out, Milo actually did it meticulously, and the finished product revealed Milo's expertise and attention to detail in many aspects. This should have been a good thing, but instead of making Miles feel gratified, it made him a little annoyed.
“Mr. Dale, I’m sorry to bother you. You asked me to prepare breakfast for Mr. Milo, and I called his smart home assistant to ask what time it would be delivered, but no one answered. I just checked and found that Mr. Milo isn’t in the house. The mute gentleman mentioned earlier that no one is allowed to go out tonight. I thought about it and decided I should come and inform you.”
Miles's expression hardened, but he remained composed. He turned and dialed Milo's phone, but no one answered. As he changed his shoes, he asked Beverly, "Did he say where he was going?"
Beverly shook her head: "That wasn't mentioned, but this morning Mr. Milo asked me where the 'show' was, and I've never heard of any 'show'."
Miles's expression changed, and he said to Beverly, "Could you please go and find out where he is? You should go back to your room and not come out again."
Beverly looked worried: "I hope nothing bad has happened."
Miles, however, had already stopped talking to her and hurried down the corridor. Indeed, as Beverly had said, the cruise ship was very quiet, unlike the usual bustling nightlife, but this was often the calm before the storm.
Miles glanced at the dark sea and noticed that the ship was moving forward at an absolutely abnormal speed.
"Hello, please contact the captain immediately and tell him that Miles Dale is looking for him and that he needs to reassess the ship's safe speed. If he refuses or does not answer, please immediately dial the emergency and safety communications channel, send the Bethlehem's location, and make an emergency distress call."
The person on the other end of the phone acted hastily, but the call was quickly returned to a panicked voice: "Mr. Dale, we can't reach Captain Baker. Our ECU has malfunctioned, probably due to electromagnetic interference. Also, our information is being blocked, and we can't contact the outside world. Our current speed has exceeded the safe speed limit."
How much longer until we reach our destination?
"Logically, we should have less than an hour left, but we might accidentally enter the waters of another country, or... encounter a pirate group raiding for supplies on the sea..."
Miles was starting to worry: "Immediately make sure the manual steering is still working. Get all the experienced watch officers on board. Don't worry about speed. Prioritize the course, avoid dangerous areas, and don't run aground."
After hanging up the phone, Miles contacted the ship's guards. He didn't wait for the bodyguards and instead barged into the church.
He never liked such mysterious places, but this was indeed a good place to hide guns.
Miles pulled a pistol from behind the cross, mentally reviewed how to use it, and then stepped through the hidden door into the prayer room.
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