“Who are you…!” He was shocked and terrified.

Blake smirked, raising his eyebrows. “You got quite a bit of traction off me, I thought you’d recognize me.”

It was only then that Harvard realized that it was Blake. Yes, that was the guy he’d been editing videos of!

“Y-you… It’s illegal to beat people up!” He said in a panic.

Blake thought to himself, Oh, that’s fine. You aren’t scared of anything, why should I be?

A strange fear crept into Harvard’s chest from the sight of Blake’s stance, and his lip began to tremble. “D-don’t go too far! There are cameras around…”

Just as he had finished speaking, he saw a familiar figure walking over. It was his landlord!

Harvard cried out, “Help! Madam, I’m being attacked!”

Gemma had a mug of tea in her hands, and took a hearty sip. “Aah~ tea in the summer really is the best!”

Harvard was speechless.

To think that she was in the mood for tea!

Gemma mumbled to herself, “How strange. Why are the cameras down? I’m going to check them out.

Upon speaking, she walked right by as if she had not seen anything.

Harvard was baffled by it.

The cameras… were down?

Blake waved a hand. “Come on, bring him inside. We’ll have a nice chat.”

Harvard was going to shout, when one of the men wearing a black shirt made a harsh chopping gesture to his neck.

He could not speak immediately.

The door closed, and Harvard lost all hope.

The men in black t-shirts and Blake were all crowded in a tiny rented room, making it a bit of a squeeze.

Blake raised his head.

One of the men in black tapped Harvard’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re nice. We won’t make a mess.”

Harvard wondered, Was… was he going to be murdered?

Sure enough, one of the men in black put on gloves and fetched a chopping knife from the kitchen.

Another one held his hand down…

Blake smirked coldly. “You enjoy cutting off your own fingers, don’t you? Cut the remaining nine of them off!”

“That way, you won’t be able to screw around for traction anymore.”

Harvard did not know why the first thought that came to his head was not to beg, but…

If he lost all ten of his fingers, he’d be able to use his new identity as a disabled person to get some clicks. He could profit on sympathy, that would work…

The glint of metal caught his eye and distracted him. The man in black raised the knife, bringing it down hard.

Harvard withdrew his hands at the speed of light. The knife landed on the chopping board.

He did not know the kind of person Blake was. If he were to really aim, he would never have missed.

He was just scaring Harvard.

Harvard’s face drained of color, and he bowed repeatedly, knocking his head onto the ground again and again. “Please forgive me, please! I’ll never do it again, I’m sorry!”

Blake stared at him coldly.

Shameless people like him hardly even feared the law sometimes.

It would take a while to sue this bastard, anyways.

He’d have to just take care of Harvard himself.

Insulting his darling daughter, and using her for traction again and again.

Blake had to teach him a lesson somehow…

Blake looked around him, and picked up a yellowed name card from the table. “Harvard Schumacher…”

Ha, what a waste of a good name.

Blake tossed the card away. “Have a good talk. Remember, we’re civilized people here.”

The MacNeil hitmen responded, “Got it!”

Blake closed the door and left.

Harvard fell to his knees, begging and pleading. Those sounds soon turned into grunts of agony as he had the living lights beaten out of him.

Outside the door, Layton stood guard anxiously as his brain buzzed.

“Is this really a good idea with the status you hold, Mr. MacNeil?” He was close to tears.

Blake remained leaning against the windowsill, his expression stony. “My status? I’m a philanthropist right now!”

Layton thought, What the…

Blake said, “Besides. The MacNeils are taking care of him. Not anyone else.”