🌻Chapter 4

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🌻

"Damn it!" Gulf cursed as he left the factory.

He was the only one who got wet. Lucky First didn't get a drop on him.

As Gulf glared, the crowd at the entrance quickly made way for him.

He walked towards the Benz. His entire body was wet. This was not something a Yakuza could let pass.

"Are you alright? Please dry yourself, boss. You'll catch a cold," First pleaded, handing him a towel.

Gulf wiped the water from his hair, which now looked like seaweed, then blotted his wet suit. He was soaked through to his underwear.

First watched Gulf with fascination, his cheeks turning pink.

"Boss," he began.

"Hmm?" Gulf said, still trying to dry himself off.

"You're such a great guy," First continued. "Even while soaked head to toe, no one could look as good as you do."

Though it was supposed to be a compliment, it felt a little creepy. First's intense gaze made Gulf feel a little queasy.

"Shut the fuck up," he grunted, hitting First over the head. As he peeled off his dripping suit, cold air cut through his wet shirt.

"Ugh, it's cold," he muttered.

Rubbing his sore head, First glanced at Gulf. "Uh, this is kinda hard to ask, boss," he said.

"What?" Gulf growled.

"Can you leave the shirt on? You're kinda turning me on," First mumbled.

"Huh?" Gulf sputtered, then gave First sharp kick.

"Ooof!" First groaned, rolling on the ground in agony.

Gulf climbed into the driver's seat and set the heat on high. He couldn't think about First right now. His head was full of thoughts of Rachan.

What's his problem? he wondered, resting his elbows on the steering wheel.

He really thought he could do this. He hadn't been in that place for so long. He figured he could just collect the money and feel no pain. But seeing Rachan's face brought back all the old memories.

Ten long years ago. The days when young Gulf spent his time caught up in gang violence.

TBC

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