Number 7

"Alright, listen up gents - and ladies as well. You all are the crux of this entire operation. While you may seem to be nothing more than a side show in comparison to the ones up on stage, this entire thing would fall to pieces without you."

Bradley stood at the entrance of the venue, surrounded by a number of security guards.

"The fact of the matter is that every single person invited was someone who holds a lot of influence. And when you have a lot of influence, you have a lot of enemies. Which means that this entire event has a target on its back."

As the man's tone turned from cheerful to serious, he spoke with a deadly tone as he uttered his next sentence.

"Therefore, you should be prepared to give your lives if you need to."

An air of tension overcame the group for a moment, however just as quickly the man's smile once again returned to his face.

"Of course, it's not likely that something will actually happen. No matter which way you cut it, cameras from all around Stronvardia... no... perhaps even from all around the world are focused on this event. If someone really wanted to try something, then it would be as good as declaring war on this nation themselves."

And then, flipping back more to his grim tone, the man warned those around him.

"But don't allow that to relax your guards."

As he began to pace along the line of guards who stood like soldiers, the man placed his arms behind his back as he strutted like a Commander.

"It's only when people believe that they are safe - when they have deceived themselves into thinking that something won't go wrong - that something will go wrong. The guests who arrive are not here to battle - they are here to relax. And it is your duty... no... OUR duty to ensure that they are able to do so."

Stopping in place as he turned to face the line, the man gazed up and down as he witnessed the faces before him.

They were all prepared for a fight - as if they were warriors about to be sent out to battle.

"We aren't exactly allowed to do strip searches, or even pat downs. These guests are too well known for such things. I understand how irritating this is, but the fact of the matter is that treating these people in such a way would only make enemies of the company. We have to treat them with respect and care, as if those people hold our very lives in the balance."

Closing his eyes as he took a breath in, the man muttered his next words under his breath with a tinge of bitterness.

"Because they do."

"What was that, Sir? I didn't quite hear that last-"

"I didn't say anything. Moving on... you will have to confirm their identity without putting them through excessive trouble. You will have to keep your eyes on any and all bodyguards and servants who are permitted inside, ensuring that they are all a part of the group that is allowed inside. Anyone trying to sneak inside will likely try to do so by disguising themselves as a part of some big shot's party. Coordinate with the hired bodyguards to ensure that no impostors are present. And above all... do not cause any of these people trouble. Because if you do..."

With the crack of his knuckles, the man spoke with disdain in his voice - though to whom it was aimed was unknown.

"Then even I won't be able to save you."

A number of gulps were heard from the people who stood at attention, however the man walked by them and towards the inner room with one final statement.

"I understand that these conditions aren't fair. I understand that you all will likely want to pull your hair out when you meet some of these people, but when the time comes - shut your mouth and bear with it. Do exactly as they say, without question - because doing anything else will impact the rest of your lives."

As he walked off into the venue, the man's eyes seemed to sharpen as they hardened, a fierceness clouding his expression.

For he knew that his words were true - more so than anyone else present.

'After all... as someone who is right below them... I understand well just how detached from reality these people can be.'

----

"Oh, who's a good little poochie? Yes yes yes, you are!"

Bradley found himself inside the venue, surrounded by bigshots and elites.

It was a large auditorium area with tables set up and a stage fronting the area - though to call it an auditorium would be a bit of an understatement.

It looked more like an expensive restaurant.

The vast amount of money which had likely been poured into this event was likely astronomical, however the amount of money to be obtained from it was almost certainly even greater.

"Mrs. Vera, it's wonderful to see you again. How is the pup doing?"

"Oh, he isn't a pup anymore, you silly thing! Look at him. He's a full grown dog now."

A woman dressed in a pompous outfit which made ‘ridiculous’ sound like an understatement held up a creature which could never possibly be described as a dog.

It shivered with bulging eyes and a drooping tongue, barely able to comprehend its own existence as it flicked its eyes back and forth mindlessly.

"Is that so? My... he certainly has grown since the last time I saw him. When was that again?"

"Oh, it must have been two years! Hahaha, you know... I've heard so many things about this party. Is it true that the heir to the Rekard group will be attending?"

"Oh, he was invited. Why the interest, Mrs. Vera? Do you intend on taking him as a spouse?"

"Ahaha! You caught me! A young one like that will soon fall to some flappy lass who can't keep herself covered, so I might as well jump on the chance while I can, no?"

"Hah.... well, I had best be greeting the other guests. It was truly wonderful seeing you."

"Oh, well tata. Tell the CEO of yours that once he kicks the bucket I'll be waiting to reap some of his assets."

"Hahaha! Surely, you joke, Mrs. Vera."

Bradley laughed off as he walked away from the woman, pretending as if everything she had said was merely a joke.

Of course - he knew that it wasn't.

The woman, despite being well over 80 years old, was almost certainly going to attempt to purchase a new husband at that very event, while simultaneously investing in the will of the CEO of Moria Financial.

This was a common tactic in the world of those who had more money than they knew what to do with. They would invest in one another's companies in exchange for being listed as a benefactor to some assets on a will.

These investments eventually turned into competitions of who would die first.

Whether by natural means... or by unnatural ones.

'It looks like everyone is filing in one group at a time... almost everyone is here, so I'll have to begin preparing for the opening speech.'

Heading over to greet another man - this one an older gentleman who wore a tophat and held a cane in his hand - Bradley closed his eyes as his thoughts turned towards the woman who was waiting for him.

'Just wait, Anna. I'll finish this... and I'll take a break.'

With this motivation, the man pushed himself forward.

No matter what bullshit he would have to deal with - no matter what unreasonable people he would have to satisfy, he only had to make it to the end of this day.

"Representative Fulshear... I'm so glad you could make it."

"Make it? Hah! I barely made it through that security check, I did! Those ruffians tried to scuffle me up right good, they did! To think that they would force me to provide identification... how could one not know who I am? Is that your doing, young Brad?"

"As I stated before, Mr. Fulshear... security is a major issue with so many people like yourself here. I'm certain you understand."

"The only thing I understand is that you all are incapable of doing your jobs! If you had any real security you wouldn't need to obtain proof of identity to tell who is worth a scrap."

"Haha... now, now. Why don't you have something to eat? We've prepared a buffet for the guests-"

"Oh, a BUFFET, is it? You mean those wretched tables that every person and their mother has slimed their grubby little paws all over before finally arriving at what they want to eat? I'll PASS, thank you. Come now, gentlemen. Let us find a seat at the front before some fool decides they have the right to snatch it from me."

With the wave of his arm, the train of men in black seemed to follow the man in an orderly fashion, to which Bradley merely smiled as they all passed him.

'Just a few more hours... and this will be over.'

It was insufferable.

Yet even so, he would pull through.

Or so he believed.

----

"The temperature is too high. Are they trying to roast me, because I think I'm finished cooking on this side."

A man with a presence grander than anyone else entered the room with a voice loud enough to quiet everyone.

"The food appears to be made for a pig - after the pig has consumed it."

Even the millionaires present who knew nothing about humility were forced to silence themselves while this man spoke, for his presence overwhelmed them all in an instant.

"The decorations look like a child set up a stage for some sort of school play, and was left to do the entire thing on his own. I can even smell the tears that he wept as he made them. Oh wait, perhaps that's just the odor of the sewer that's been blowing in through the ventilation?"

And as he took off his fedora, the man seemed to speak without a single ounce of positivity, criticizing each and every detail with absurd metaphors.

"The security guards are nothing more than monkeys who fail to even comprehend human society, and it appears that the guests invited to this venue... hah..."

Looking around at all the people around him, the man seemed to chuckle.

"Well, at least they had the decency to invite people who aren't living in poverty."

Making his way to the front, the man stood above a young boy who looked up to him with a sinister glare.

"Boy. That seat is mine. I'm not sure why you decided to sit there, but I'm in quite a good mood today, therefore I suppose I'll let it slide. So long as you slide out of that seat, of course."

"Just who do you think you are to speak to me like that? Do you know who I am?"

Yet instead of removing himself, the boy glared at the man as he spoke with a rude tone.

Each and every person seemed to freeze in shock as the boy made this rude statement - one which even the most arrogant of people would never dare to make.

"I see. So the monkey likes to throw shit around, disrespecting those who hold intelligence. Gentlemen."

With the snap of his fingers, the men in black surrounding the man immediately rushed forward, grabbing the boy.

"Hey! What the hell do you-"

"Please have him reflect on his actions. If I am not wrong... I'm sure Randov will be able to make good use of this one. Now then... Bradley."

"Hey!!! MMMPH! MMMPH!"

The men gagged the boy, dragging him off as he screamed and tore at them, yet in moments he was gone.

Dusting the seat off, the man sat down as he crossed one leg over the other, glaring at the red haired man who stood on stage with an immense air about him.

"It is already irritating enough that you invited such a monkey to this prestigious event, but as I stated. I am in a GOOD mood today. Therefore... it is now your time to redeem yourself of such a disgrace."

As the man made this statement, the other guards seemed to rush around him, creating a circle that separated him from the rest of the guests.

Slicking back his hair, the man checked his watch as he looked up to the man with impatience.

"You have two minutes to redeem yourself. Otherwise I will be taking my loan from another bank."

This man was none other than Norman Felbaust - The CEO of Marcel Incorporated.

The father of Melody Felbaust, the girl who Stella had driven herself mad to compete with - and the man who would eventually come to fire Marcus.

----

"I'll start with an apology."

This was how he always started, wasn't it?

"It appears that the boy wasn't exactly trained when it came to mannerisms. While he may have been the heir to a corporation, it would seem that perhaps he should first inherit some brain cells, no?"

This was how Bradley started off - with a joke.

"Hahaha! Certainly so, young Brad!"

"Don't make me slap my knees too hard now!"

And this joke - despite poking fun at a boy who was likely just taken off to some unknown place to live the rest of his life being tortured - made them laugh.

"Ahaha! To think that he didn't understand his position to that extent! Young people these days tend to overestimate themselves, don't they?"

"Perhaps it would be better for them if they made something on their own before acting like a big shot, no?"

The reception was grand, and even Norman Felbaust seemed to crack a smile, motioning for Bradley to continue.

"Well, I suppose it's all water under the bridge. After all, it would be unreasonable for you to be held accountable for every guest you invited, no?"

It was enough to sicken Bradley - yet it was this very joke that lightened the mood enough for him to regain his standing with this unreasonable crowd.

"With that being said... Mr. Felbaust, we have been informed that you have come offering a 200 Million Sin contract for the development of multiple residential subdivisions, correct?"

"That is the offer that is currently on the table, though whether your group will be the ones to fund this is another story."

The man responded as if he had the upper hand.

Typically, clients who were going to a bank for a loan would be on the defensive, convincing the banks to offer them something.

Yet this man had flipped the situation.

"I shouldn't need to explain this, Bradley, but if I don't like your offer then I'll try the next one. And if I don't like their offer, I'll try the next one."

Leaning forward as he rested his chin in his hand, the man grinned with a smug expression - his eyes filled with the glint of victory.

"And if I don't like any of their offers, then I won't bother with this project."

This was the difference between Bradley and this man.

"Hahaha... you've always driven quite the hard bargain, Mr. Felbaust. But even so... I wonder if you'll be able to resist an interest rate of 3 percent?"

3 percent interest.

For a home loan, this was considered a relatively low rate.

However, for a business loan, this is different.

Business loans carry different levels of risk than home loans.

The risk carried by a bank when a home loan is given to a person is solely dependent on that single person, which is why banks will do heavy investigation on the credit of an individual when a home loan is being considered.

However a business loan is highly dependent on numerous factors.

The fluctuations of the economy, the capabilities of all parties involved, unexpected issues leading to losses - there are far too many unknowns for a bank to simply give away such a large amount of money, even to someone who was reliable.

"3 percent?"

However, this man did not budge.

"Is that the best you can do?"

With a snicker, he seemed to laugh at the very offer - one which almost completely put profit aside.

On such a grand loan, such a low rate would be easily recovered with profit to spare, so long as the CEO played his cards right, yet even so he laughed.

"Hah... I suppose it looks like I will be moving on."

Standing up, the man waltzed towards the door as he started to take his leave.

"One percent."

However the red haired man didn't allow him to leave at that - knowing well what was at stake.

The profits that his company would reap from a mere one percent were minimal.

Even inflation alone would likely exceed these profits.

However he had come too far to allow himself to go empty handed.

"For One Percent... I'll shop around and see if I can find anyone better."

Yet even at this grand offer, the man still played hookie.

However it was at this that Bradley himself found a grin spreading up his face.

"Very well. But I'll give you ten minutes."

And with confidence, the man spoke to the big shot in a manner that nobody else in this room would have dared to.

"Make whatever calls you want. Contact whatever people you need. If you're unable to find a bank in this country that will give you less than 1%, then I'll be raising it to 2%."

With this declaration, a number of gasps were heard from all around the room, however the CEO merely laughed.

"Heh... heh heh... Bradley, you've really grown into something, haven't you?"

With the clicking of his tongue, the man turned around as he returned to his seat, folding his hands as he placed them on his knees.

"Do you think you can play on the same field as me?"

"Even if I cannot play, even the waterboy has the right to decide who gets to drink - no?"

With a smug expression, Bradley looked down on the man from the stage above.

He understood well that he was in over his head.

He knew without question that his words would likely invite trouble - yet even so, in order to clinch this deal, he had to put himself at risk.

For there is no reward without risk.

"That is only true if the players do not force the waterboy to serve them, no?"

Yet as he whipped out a cell phone, the man made a quick call.

He typed in the numbers quicker than one could witness, and then spoke.

"It's me. Have your team come up with a list of quotes on interest rates for loans. The amount? 200 million. Have it sent to me within 6 minutes. Goodbye."

Leaning forward, the man folded his hands as he looked up with a grim expression.

"Now we're in quite the stalemate, aren't we?"

Closing his eyes, the man spoke as if he had already attained victory.

"Within 6 minutes we will know whether the other banks are willing to forego greater profits. Fortunately for you, Bradley, as I have already stated... I am in a GOOD mood today."

Looking up, the man faced off with Bradley as he spoke in a low tone.

"Therefore, if you make me an offer which is better than any of the others... I will take it on the spot."

At that moment, Bradley came to a realization.

The man he was dealing with was not someone he could even hope to compete with.

"But if you allow the time to run out without making a better offer... then I suppose you'll be placing your own fate in the hands of others. It's your decision."

----

One minute passed.

Then two.

Then three.

Not a single person said a thing.

Even the breathing of the people present seemed to disappear as Bradley and the CEO merely waited, minute after minute.

Four.

And as that time passed, bullets of sweat formed on the forehead of Bradley.

'What do I do?'

'Do I lower the offer?'

'Even more than I already have?'

He was plagued with a predicament.

He had already lowered the bar to the point where profit would be low.

While an interest rate of 1% would gain 2 million per year at first, the total investment was barely worth it.

'But if I lose this deal... we might lose any opportunity to deal with him in the future.'

There was a purpose to this contract beyond mere profit.

This was the entire reason why the bar had been lowered so much in the first place.

Making money? Such a thing was merely a facade for the true goal of this contract.

Power.

When one pleased someone with power, they were able to utilize that power for themselves.

'We are backed by this person.'

'Going against us would be going against them.'

Many doors would be opened, and many opportunities would come of a deal which seemed to be profitless.

"Half a percent."

Therefore he cracked."

"Oh... so you've lowered it. Haha... but you still seem to be hesitating. After all... don't you think that some people would be willing to pay me to take a loan from them?"

With these words, the man continued to mock Bradley - provoking him even further.

Time continued ticking.

"There are ten seconds left. Is half a percent your final offer?"

And as it continued, the man made this final inquiry to Bradley.

"Zero... percent."

Looking up with a defeated expression, Bradley forced out these words as the time ran out.

And as it did so, the man shoved his phone in his pocket.

Standing up, the man walked off.

"I accept."

"Eh?"

He walked off, not bothering to so much as check the other offers.

"What do you mean-"

"I didn't even call anyone just now. I was merely testing you to see how much you would lower the offer. Now then... you wouldn't go back on your word, would you?"

He had been had.

His jaw almost dropped, and Bradley was left speechless.

The others around him could barely contain their laughter as Bradley became the laughing stock of this entire event.

And with a sarcastic tone, the man uttered his title with disrespect.

"Thank you for the business, Vice President."

However it was as he walked to the exit that a certain man stood up.

Walking forward with a smile, this man walked alone.

He had no body guards for himself, and approached the CEO of Marcel Incorporated swiftly as he strode past the others.

He wore an orange and black striped suit, and reached into the jacket of his coat as he pulled out a handkerchief with an extravagant motion.

And this man, who was neither young nor old, smiled with satisfaction as he spoke.

"Please wait just a moment, Mr. Felbaust. I wanted to say something myself."

"I don't have time for this. If you have business with me, contact one of my employees at a later time."

Ignoring the man, the body guards that surrounded him separated the CEO from the middle aged man, whose tone quickly turned sour.

And with the drop of his handkerchief, he revealed a pistol in his hand.

"Forgive me, Mr. Felbaust. But I don't think you'll be available at a later time either. And my business is not with your company, nor your employees."

In that instant, the body guards moved with lightning speed, rushing at the man with violent expressions.

Bang! Bang!

Two shots were fired, straight into the heads of the men who blocked the path to their CEO.

"My business is with you. Here and now."