The Villain Who Stole Hearts

After being called a pervert and getting thoroughly scolded, Veil finally left the villa where the Murphy sisters lived.

Alone in the dark, he moved like a shadow — fast, silent, ghostlike. His figure darted through the streets, vanishing and reappearing between pools of light, faster than the eye could follow. Even someone like Roy, a master of stealth and assassination, might not be able to match Veil's speed now.

Since finishing off the last of the physique-enhancing pills, Veil's physical stats had soared to two hundred points. Against an ordinary person — even a muscular thug — he wouldn't need to lift a finger. A single tap with one finger would be enough to cave in a skull.

His current physique was a far cry from the past. His power had reached a terrifying level. Against someone like Roy, one of those so-called "protagonists blessed by fate," Veil was confident. In a real fight to the death, he could very well win — assuming no outside factors came into play.

Of course, such messy matters were best left to subordinates. He was the big villain of the story, after all — why should he get his hands dirty fighting the chosen ones?

His thoughts returned to the matter at hand.

He knew exactly where Damon Murphy was being held. Though the kidnappers had no direct ties to him, they'd been provoked and nudged into action by Kai's people — under Veil's orders. Kai had also arranged for trusted men to keep a close eye on the entire process.

Damon Murphy had made plenty of enemies — more than he could count. Several of them were particularly ruthless. All it took was a little push in the right direction, and their resentment boiled over into violence.

And now? Damon had already been taken.

Within an hour, Veil arrived at a run-down apartment building on the outskirts of Veyport City. Without a word, he reached into his system inventory and pulled out a human-skin mask.

Once it was pressed onto his face and aligned perfectly, a different face looked back at him — Roy's.

His physique also subtly shifted under the effects of his disguise technique, reshaping to match Roy's proportions. Unless someone was incredibly familiar with Roy's every detail, they would never notice the difference.

This technique was the perfect tool for framing someone else.

Naturally, Veil was careful with how and when he used it. He would never wear Roy's face in front of women who knew Roy well, or in front of anyone who might suspect something. Even though it was still his own body under the disguise, just having someone else's face made him feel… off. Uncomfortable. As if he were betraying his own identity just by speaking too much.

…

Inside the apartment building, three shirtless, tattooed men sat around a grimy table, downing beer.

One of them slammed his can down and cursed. "Fuck! Are you kidding me? Wasn't this guy supposed to be some rich brat? Why the hell is the whole city in chaos now? Sirens everywhere, every damn cop is on alert, and someone in my car group chat said the fucking Black Dragon Society's out on the move too!"

"Black and white sides both looking for this guy — who the hell is he really?!"

The three men turned in unison to look at the bruised and swollen Damon Murphy, tied up in the corner and barely conscious.

Originally, their plan had been simple — kidnap the guy, beat the shit out of him, starve him for a few days, and make him suffer. Payback.

The guy had stolen a girl they'd had their eyes on at a nightclub — and to rub salt in the wound, he'd even sent them a video of himself humiliating her.

Who could swallow that kind of insult?

But now… now things had spiraled out of control. They'd let their anger loose, but the situation was no longer under control. The streets were crawling with cops. People were talking. It was too late to back out.

A man with a black scorpion tattoo on his neck jerked his chin toward Damon and snapped, "Go ask him again."

Another man, holding a knife, walked forward and yanked the gag from Damon's mouth — a pair of used socks, still damp with sweat.

"Don't you dare scream," the man growled coldly. "If you do, I'll gut you. White knife in, red knife out — right through your heart!"

Damon's eyes twitched — not from fear, but from the blood that had flowed into them. He couldn't even see properly from all the swelling.

Clenching his jaw, he forced down his fury and said through gritted teeth, "What do you want from me? Let me go, and we can talk. Whatever you want — money, connections — name your price. I can give it to you."

"Money? You think this is about money?" the man snapped, face twisted with rage. "Did you forget how you humiliated us?!"

"Fuck! If we didn't want to keep this low-key, I'd have stabbed you myself already! That girl you took? I was the one who spiked her drink! Even if we were all gonna have a turn, there's a damn order to things!"

Damon rolled his eyes. "It was just a girl. If you wanted her, you should've told me. Let me go and I'll line up girls for you — pick any you want."

The beating, the kidnapping — none of it fazed him. He'd done the same, or worse, to others. To him, it was all just part of the thrill.

Smack!

The man struck him across the face, roaring, "I'm not here to chat, asshole! Who the hell are you really? Whose bastard son are you?!"

Damon let out a ragged breath, his face burning with pain. "My father… is Kosdy Murphy."

His hands were still bound, so he couldn't even wipe the blood from his eyes or touch his face. All he could do was sit there, beaten and helpless, and speak.

He had long since figured out his father's identity. Even if Kosdy had never told him directly, he wasn't a fool — he'd done his research. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together.

Even a rat like him had pride.

Even though Kosdy Murphy had long since retreated behind the scenes, Damon could still recognize his father from old photographs and newspaper clippings with just a single glance.

The chairman of the Murphy Group, a business titan worth over ten billion — one of the wealthiest men in all of Veyport City.

If Damon hadn't known who his father was… if he hadn't been coddled and spoiled since childhood… would he have ever dared to act so brazenly out in the world?

But who would've thought that he'd end up falling into the hands of three desperate lowlifes like this?

"Fuck!" one of the men cursed and shoved a pair of filthy, sweat-drenched boxers back into Damon's mouth.

Storming back to the table, he dropped into a chair and grabbed an already opened beer can, chugging it down in one long gulp. Then, with a loud bang, he slammed his fist on the table — peanuts scattered everywhere.

"Boss… we really screwed up this time!" he said with a shaky voice. "We never should've run our mouths back then. This guy… he's actually Kosdy Murphy's son! No wonder all of Veyport City's gone into a frenzy looking for him. It's not just talk — the kind of storm we're seeing out there, only the Murphy family could stir up something like that! What do we do now?!"

The man's voice trembled with panic. He never expected that they'd end up crossing someone like the Murphys.

A family like that could squash them like bugs.

The man with the scorpion tattoo — Scorpion, as the others called him — narrowed his eyes and glanced coldly in Damon's direction. A murderous glint flashed in his gaze.

"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Damon thrashed wildly, trying to protest, to speak — but the foul, piss-scented cloth in his mouth choked off every word.

"Stay still!" Scorpion barked.

Once Damon quieted down, he turned to his two underlings, his voice low and grim. "It's too late for regrets. The whole damn city's looking for us now. If Kosdy Murphy finds out we kidnapped his bastard son… he'll come at us with everything he's got. He'll burn the whole world down just to find us."

One of the others, his face pale, still clung to a shred of false hope. "Come on, man… Kosdy Murphy's supposed to be this big-time entrepreneur, right? A philanthropist. You really think he'd go that far?"

He was desperate — still hoping there was a way out. Maybe if they returned Damon now, apologized, begged on their knees… maybe they'd just get a leg broken. Better than being hunted down like animals.

Scorpion rolled his eyes. "The Black Dragon Society's out there hunting for this kid — do you think that's the cops pulling the strings? That's Kosdy. He's pulling every lever he has behind the scenes. These rich bastards, they're the dirtiest players of all."

"Forget it. For now, we wait. At least this place is still safe… I'm gonna take a leak."

He'd had too much to drink. The beer was catching up with him.

Glancing at the others, Scorpion sighed inwardly. Even now, these idiots were still hoping that Kosdy Murphy would let things go?

What a joke.

These tycoons — they weren't known for their mercy. Their hearts were colder than steel. And their hands? Absolutely ruthless.

He didn't bother saying any more. With a bitter smile, he turned and headed down the stairs toward the building's grimy bathroom.

And as luck would have it — the moment Scorpion stepped out of the room, the front door was quietly jimmied open from the outside with a sharp click.

The moment they heard the sound, their expressions turned grim and alert. Without hesitation, they set down their beer cans, gripped their knives tightly, and silently crept to either side of the door.

As the person on the other side stepped through the threshold, they made their move—both blades stabbing forward with deadly intent.

Thud!

Two muffled sounds of knives piercing flesh echoed through the room, followed by pained, guttural screams.

But before they could even react, sharp blades slashed across their wrists. Blood gushed from the wounds, and their arms were suddenly seized in a vice-like grip.

Veil stepped into the room, wearing Roy's signature mask and a black face covering — one of the quirky items he'd pulled from the system's inventory. He didn't even need it, really. The system had thrown in a whole box of gas masks for laughs.

Holding both bloodied arms in his grasp, he walked in with an air of overwhelming dominance. There was a confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips, an almost mocking glint in his eyes.

"Trash like you… and you thought you could hurt me?"

His voice was cold, laced with disdain.

Veil didn't hold back from speaking. He'd already redeemed a mid-tier Voice Mimicry skill from the system store — unless the listener was an expert in audio analysis, there was no way anyone could recognize his real voice.

Tied up on the floor, Damon Murphy looked like he'd just seen his savior — letting out frantic, muffled howls, squirming on the ground like a foul maggot writhing in excitement.

Veil tossed the thugs aside like they were nothing. Then, gesturing toward Damon, he ordered calmly, "Take that thing out of his mouth."

One of the goons, codenamed Calf, trembled as he stumbled over to Damon Murphy. But instead of removing the sweat-soaked sock, he grabbed his knife with his left hand and pressed it to Damon's neck, shouting with wild desperation, "Don't come any closer! I'll kill him, I swear!

You're here for the ransom, right? We can talk! Let us leave Veyport City, and we'll release him. No harm done!"

He knew just how powerful Kosdy Murphy was — but even then, he hadn't expected their response to be so fast, so overwhelming.

Still… this masked guy, no matter how strong, clearly had a screw loose. He'd taken them down, only to leave them alive? How arrogant!

Veil didn't even blink. With a smooth motion, he grabbed one of the other thugs, twisting him into a chokehold. His gloved hand picked up a fallen blade and, with a wet shhk, plunged it straight into the man's chest — just beside the heart.

"Drop the knife," Veil said, his tone low but full of menace. "Don't hurt him… unless you want your little buddy here to bleed out in the next thirty seconds."

Blood poured from the wound.

The stabbed man screamed through clenched teeth, eyes wide in agony, silently cursing the heavens: What the hell did I do to deserve this?!

And seriously—who was the real kidnapper here?!