chapter 4 : moving to the villa

Smith :~ the next day in the morning I grab my suitcase which I already pecked Last night and with that I went to say goodbye to my parents they are so happy that I found a job but they didn't know what kind of job it is . if they found out I can't certainly go to my job that's why I lie about my job. I book a cab and it lend me to the a very big villa . I never imagined a house could be this big.

Calling it a “house” was wrong—it was more like a palace. Mark’s villa stood behind tall iron gates, with guards posted like statues. Inside, the floors were polished marble, the ceilings high, the chandeliers brighter than anything I had ever seen.

It was beautiful. And terrifying.

When I first stepped inside, my bag slung over my shoulder, I couldn’t believe this was where I was going to live. Me. Smith. A poor college boy who smelled of noodles most of the time.

One of the guards took me through the halls until we reached a wide room. Mark was already there, sitting casually on a sofa as if he owned the world. Which, maybe, he did.

He looked up at me, calm as ever. “From today on,” he said, “you’ll work here in my villa. As my personal servant.”

I blinked. “...Servant?”

He gave a slight smirk. “Is there a problem?”

I froze, shaking my head quickly. “No, Boss.”

But inside, my thoughts were loud and messy.

A servant? Seriously? I thought he’d hand me a gun, or send me on some dangerous mafia mission, like in the movies. I was ready for something terrifying, but this? This man just told me to be his servant. What kind of pain-in-the-ass boss is he?

I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. His sharp eyes were still on me.

Mark leaned back, sipping his wine. “You’ll stay in one of the rooms upstairs. You’ll follow my orders. Morning till night. Don’t be late. Don’t be lazy. And don’t test my patience.”

“Yes, Boss,” I said automatically.

He studied me for a moment, then waved his hand. “Good. Go rest. Tomorrow, your work begins.”

---

That night, I lay in a bed softer than anything I had ever touched. The room was bigger than my parents’ entire shop. A flat-screen TV on the wall, a closet full of clothes that weren’t even mine, and a bathroom that looked like something from a hotel.

I should have been happy. Excited, even. But all I could think was:

So I’m really just a servant.

Maybe this was some kind of test. Maybe he was waiting to see if I would complain. But no matter how I looked at it, it felt strange. Out of all the jobs in the mafia, he wanted me to clean, bring drinks, maybe polish his shoes?

I buried my face in the pillow and groaned.

“What a crazy man…”

Still, deep down, I knew this was only the beginning. Mark wasn’t the type to do anything without a reason.

And if he wanted me close, as his personal servant, then there was something more behind his decision.

Something I didn’t understand yet.

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