Project Overclock : The Revenge of the Rejected Son in Law

Chapter 4 : New Face, New Identity

[Suturing artery using chip’s thermal energy. Time remaining: Thirty seconds.]

Stefano felt an intense heat radiating from his brain down to his fingertips. Blood splattered across his face, but he remained focused. Damian let out a soft groan, his eyes fluttering open.

Suddenly, a loud buzzing filled Stefano’s head.

[Warning! System energy depleted. Points reached zero. Assistance mode disabled. Deactivating system functions now.]

Stefano’s digital vision vanished. The guidance lines superimposed over Damian’s body disappeared instantly. Stefano froze, his hands still deep inside the open wound in Damian’s chest, as blood began to seep out rapidly once again.

"Hey! Why did you stop?!" Mark shouted, grabbing Stefano’s collar. "My father isn't breathing! You're killing him!"

"I have to finish this manually," Stefano muttered, cold sweat dripping down his temples.

Without the system’s help, he had to rely solely on the basic medical knowledge he had once glanced over. The young woman from earlier pulled the trigger of her gun and pressed the cold muzzle against Stefano’s temple.

"Are you an intruder? Did you come here on purpose to make sure my father dies?" she hissed. "Get your hands off him or I’ll blow your brains out right now!"

Stefano looked her in the eye. "If I let go now, he really will die. Give me one minute."

"One minute for what?! You just tore his chest open!" Mark screamed in a rage. "Shoot him, Sofia! Shoot him now!"

Sofia’s finger trembled on the trigger. Stefano could feel Damian’s heartbeat growing weaker beneath his fingertips. He had to do something, but without the system, he was flying blind.

"Just do it, Sofia! What are you waiting for?!"

Stefano closed his eyes, trying to summon the remnants of his consciousness amidst the gunpoint and the threat of death.

"Pull the trigger right now if you actually want him to die!" Stefano roared without shifting his gaze from the wound in Damian DeVille’s chest.

Sofia gasped, the barrel of her gun shaking against Stefano’s temple. "Don't you dare order me around, you bastard!"

"His blood won't stop because of your threats!" Stefano pressed the arterial point beneath Damian’s ribs with all his might. "Hold the flashlight closer! Now!"

Mark tried to step forward to pull Stefano away, but Sofia snapped at him instead. "Shut up, Mark! Give him the light!"

Without the visual aid of the system, Stefano’s world suddenly felt narrow and dark. He could only rely on his memory of where the nerves and blood vessels were located. His blood-stained fingers felt numb from the cold, but he kept searching for the leak inside the old man’s chest cavity.

*Come on, just a little more. I know that vessel is right here,* Stefano thought to himself.

He felt a faint pulse at the tip of his finger. There it was the torn artery. With a movement that was incredibly careful yet firm, Stefano clamped the vessel using the makeshift medical tools he had found in the bodyguard’s bag.

Damian DeVille suddenly choked, coughing up dark blood, then took a long, heavy breath.

"Father?" Sofia dropped her gun onto the asphalt, kneeling beside Stefano with a pale face. "Father, can you hear me?"

Stefano slowly released the pressure. The blood was no longer spurting out. "He’s stable. But if he isn't in an operating room within ten minutes, my efforts will be for nothing."

Mark immediately barked orders into his radio. "Get the medical team ready at headquarters! Now!"

Several men in black suits carefully lifted Damian’s body into an SUV. Sofia stood up, staring at Stefano, who was still kneeling on the asphalt with hands that were shaking violently. The adrenaline crash made him feel nauseous.

"What’s your name?" Sofia asked. Her voice was no longer threatening, but filled with curiosity.

Stefano looked up. His golden-hazel eyes glinted under the dim streetlights. "My name isn't important. But you owe me a life."

Sofia stared at him intensely for a few seconds before finally getting into the car. "Remember this man’s face, Mark. We’ll find him after this is over."

The cars sped away, leaving Stefano alone in the now-silent alley. He leaned his back against the cold wall, letting the rain wash the blood from his hands.

"System, report status," he commanded internally.

[Initiating emergency charging. Current energy: Five percent. Basic functions restored in six hours. You successfully saved a key subject, Stefano. Reputation points have increased sharply.]

Stefano closed his eyes. "Good. Because starting tomorrow, I’m not letting anyone step on me again."

***

One week later

Stefano stood in front of Le’Vane Mode, a luxury boutique that had once been a silent witness to how lowly he was viewed by Vivianne’s family. This time, he wasn't wearing a tattered, wet jacket. His athletic frame was now draped in a black silk shirt that fit perfectly, highlighting his sharp shoulders.

A blonde saleswoman who was tidying a display turned around. As soon as she saw Stefano approaching, her face immediately twisted into an expression of disgust that was all too familiar to him.

"Excuse me, sir, but we don't accept donations here," the clerk said dismissively, before Stefano could even touch the door handle.

Stefano gave a faint smile. "You still work here, Linda? Still with the same attitude you had when you spat on me a month ago?"

The clerk named Linda froze. She squinted, trying to recognize the handsome man with the dominant aura standing before her. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"I’m the man you called a hobo while I was carrying Vivianne Vane’s bags," Stefano answered calmly as he stepped into the boutique.

"Stefano?" Linda covered her mouth with her palm, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Impossible. You were supposed to be rotting in the streets!"

"Unfortunately, the streets were too kind to me." Stefano walked around the racks of premium clothing, his fingers brushing the expensive fabrics without hesitation. "What is the total price for the entire collection in this boutique, Linda? Including the stock in the warehouse."

Linda laughed cynically, though her voice shook slightly. "Don't joke around. This entire collection is worth more than ten billion rupiah. You couldn't afford it even if you sold your kidneys."

Stefano didn't return the insult. He simply took a minimalist black card from his wallet and placed it on the checkout counter. "Swipe this card. Now."

Linda stared at the card doubtfully. "A real Black Card?"

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she took the card and inserted it into the card reader. After entering the astronomical figure, the machine beeped softly, followed by the printing of a long transaction receipt.

"It went through." Linda’s face suddenly turned deathly pale. Her entire body felt weak, and she had to lean on the counter for support. "Sir, I am so sorry. I didn't know that..."

"Call your manager," Stefano interrupted in a cold, piercing voice. "Tell him that I just bought the entire contents of this store. And your first task is to put all these clothes into trash bags."

"What? But this is the new collection, sir!"

"I don't like repeating my orders. Put them in trash bags, then throw them in the dumpster in front of my eyes. After that, you're fired."

The boutique manager came running out of his office with a panicked face, but Stefano didn't give him a chance to speak. He simply stared at the manager with a gaze that seemed to strip one's soul bare.

"I am technically the new owner here for today. Clean up this trash," Stefano said, pointing toward Linda.

After leaving the now-chaotic boutique, Stefano walked toward a black sports car waiting for him at the mall lobby. Inside the car, an old man with a surgical scar on his chest sat waiting.