**Author's POV: At the Miller Mansion**
The dimly lit room reeked of cigar smoke and tension. This was the judgment room where lives were lost—people who betrayed him or failed to do their job right. Victor stood at the window sill, discharged from the hospital and back on his feet, save for the walking stick supporting his posture.
The room door swung open, revealing the battered offender.
"Chan," Victor's gravelly voice cut through the silence, "you disappoint me."
Chan shifted nervously, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Boss, I swear I tried everything. But the guy, he's slippery. No one knows where he is."
Victor sat, leaning in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood. "Just one task, and you've failed me."
Without warning, Victor drew the silver
