The door to the luxury apartnt had barely clicked shut before Ryan was engulfed in a whirlwind of energy. The scent of homade lasagna filled the air, a stark contrast to the sll of sweat and lead that had clung to him all day.
"Ryan! Oh my god, you’re finally ho! You won’t believe the day I’ve had, it’s been absolutely insane!" said his wife, rushing to him and pulling him toward the kitchen.
Ryan stumbled, his legs feeling like two pillars of salt. He dropped his heavy tactical bag with a dull thud.
"Slow down, honey. What happened?" said Ryan.
"Everything! I went to the market this morning, right? The one three blocks away, the fancy one. I was just looking for so fruit, and the manager—the manager himself, Ryan!—cos over and asks if I’m Mrs. Mitchell. I said yes, and he practically escorted through the aisles! When I got to the checkout, the lady in front of , this woman dripping in diamonds, actually stepped aside and insisted I go first. She said ’The families of Royal co first in this district.’ Can you believe that? And it didn’t stop there! I went to that boutique on the corner to look at a dress, and the owner offered tea and a 40% discount before I even picked anything up! Everyone is talking about you, Ryan. They say you’re one of the ’Chosen 150.’ They call you the New Vanguard!" said she.
She was talking like a machine gun, barely pausing for air, her eyes sparkling with a joy he hadn’t seen since before they eloped.
"Wait, there’s more! Mrs. Gable from the fourth floor—you know, the one who always looked at us like we were dirt at the old place?—she stopped in the lobby. She was so polite it was almost scary, asking if we wanted to join them for a gala next week. Even the delivery guy refused a tip, saying it was an honor to serve a Royal household. It’s like we woke up in a different universe, Ryan. Is this what it’s like? Is this how people look at us now?" said she.
Ryan sat at the marble kitchen island, listening to the stream of news. He felt a strange mixture of pride and crushing pressure. Ethan’s influence had moved faster than the training itself. The city already knew that these 150 n were the Boss’s inner circle.
"It’s... it’s a lot to take in" said Ryan, as she placed a massive plate of food in front of him.
He began to eat, but halfway through the al, his fork slowed. His eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of the five-hour training and the eight-hour shift finally catching up to him. He leaned his head on his hand, his eyes fluttering shut for a second.
"Ryan? You’re exhausted. You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. What did he have you doing today? You said it was just a eting" said she, her voice softening as she noticed the bruise on his forehead and his trembling hands.
Ryan let out a long, ragged sigh, opening his eyes to look at her.
"It wasn’t just a eting. We spent three hours running with ten kilos of lead strapped to our hips. We crawled through dirt, practiced guerrilla tactics... and then, during work, we were ’attacked.’ n in tactical gear burst into the office and shot us all with paint. I failed, honey. I was too slow. In a real fight, I’d be dead, and five people with " said Ryan.
She pulled a chair close to him, taking his hand in hers.
"It sounds like a war zone, Ryan. Why is he doing this? It sounds so dangerous. You’ve already been shot once... are you sure you’re ready for this? We have the house now, we have the car... maybe you can just be a regular manager?" said she.
Ryan looked around the beautiful apartnt, then back at her face. He gripped her hand, his voice low and firm.
"Everything is dangerous. Being poor was dangerous. Being a nobody in that hospital bed while your parents lied to you about my death was dangerous. I’m not afraid of the training, or the guns, or the ’terrorists’ the Boss sends at us" said Ryan.
"Then what are you afraid of?" said she.
"I’m afraid of being weak again. I’m afraid of being that man who couldn’t even stand up to protect you. I’d rather die in a Royal uniform than live another day as a man who can be stepped on. I won’t let them take you again. Never" said Ryan.
She looked into his eyes and saw a cold, hard resolve that hadn’t been there twenty-four hours ago. She didn’t argue. She simply leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
"Then you better wake up at six. I’ll have your coffee ready" said she.
As the night deepened, the scenes playing out in Ryan’s apartnt were being mirrored in a hundred and forty-nine other hos across the district. In every luxury flat and high-end condo, the air was thick with the sa frantic energy—a mixture of dostic bliss and the grueling reality of a new life.
"Look at this, Dad! They gave a tablet at school today, and everyone has the sa Royal crest on their blazers!" said a young boy to his father, a forr warehouse guard now covered in bruises.
The families were relentless in their excitent, acting like a chorus of voices describing a dream co true. They spoke of children being enrolled in elite private academies and wives being treated like royalty at every corner. They showed off special smartphones provided by the company—devices that served as a golden key to the city.
"Anything we want, honey! Look at the nu on this app. We have 24/7 delivery, laundry services, dry cleaning, private gyms, and even chauffeurs! I just pressed a button and a car was here in five minutes to take to the doctor!" said another wife, showing her husband the sleek interface of the Royal Service app.
User Comments
0 comments from readers