Chapter 50: Base Subhumans

Hearing this, Vilark felt a sense of reassurance in his heart.

The Thomas family possessed extraordinary foundation. If Elizabeth truly failed to appreciate favors, they genuinely had the strength to drive her out of Leysin. Now, they could only place their hopes on the possibility that Elizabeth knew nothing about the Equality Society, thereby defusing the crisis.

"You may return," Carmine gestured.

Vilark bowed slightly and left.

...

In the afternoon, Fletcher arrived at Vilark's bedroom with the compiled documents.

Knowing that Fletcher would come, Vilark had been feigning the act of reading, hoping not to provoke this moody madman. "Mr. Fletcher."

"Here are the documents. You need to digest them before eight o'clock tonight so you don't give yourself away in front of Elizabeth." Fletcher tossed the notebook onto the desk, then abruptly grabbed Vilark by the collar, saying viciously, "If you mess up again tonight and bring trouble to the Thomas family, I will kill Dempsey and Nord, and then throw you into the sewer."

It was that same threat, repeated nearly a hundred times.

"I will, Mr. Fletcher." Grabbed by the collar, Vilark stood up from the desk. "I'm very sorry about what happened at the charity gala. I didn't expect it to escalate to this point."

Hearing this, Fletcher's anger flared even higher. He dragged Vilark directly and shoved him against the wall. Knowing Vilark had important matters tonight, he didn't slap him across the face like last time, but instead jammed his elbow against Vilark's throat. "Have I ever told you not to keep anything from me?!"

"Ugh—" Vilark couldn't breathe. He instinctively clenched his fists, yet restrained the impulse to fight back.

"Miss Kellerman told you about Elizabeth. Why did you hide it from me and not tell me?!" Fletcher growled in a low voice. "How many more things are you keeping from me?! Do you think you're very clever, capable of playing everyone for a fool?!"

"I—" Vilark squeezed out a hoarse voice with difficulty. "I didn't... think... this matter... was so important..."

Fletcher yanked Vilark toward him, then slammed him hard against the wall once more. Veins throbbed on his forehead as he hissed in Vilark's ear, "I didn't sleep all night! I've been gathering information on Elizabeth! And when I got back during the day, I had to go organize it at Mr. Carmine's! Now I still have to supervise you while you digest it as quickly as possible! Do you know why I'm doing all this crap?! It's all because of you, you idiot! You vile wretch! Do you want to get us all killed?!"

"I'm... sorry... Mr. Fletcher..." Vilark's face turned flushed, but he still endured it.

"One more time... One more time! I'll cut you and your friends into a thousand pieces!" Fletcher released Vilark. "You idiot! You lowly puppet!"

"Hah... hah..." Vilark collapsed onto the floor, gasping for heavy breaths.

Seeing this, Fletcher delivered another kick straight to Vilark's stomach.

"Ugh!" Vilark curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach.

With a face full of morbid, manic frenzy, Fletcher looked at Vilark's agonizing expression, broke into a hideously terrifying smile, pressed his foot down upon Vilark's head, and ground it back and forth. "Say it: you are a vile wretch!"

A wave of overwhelming humiliation washed over him. Vilark's eyes were bloodshot, and anger made his body tremble.

In his previous life, he had often been humiliated like this by Fletcher, solely to satisfy the man's perverse pleasure.

"Say it! You are a vile wretch!" Fletcher vent his spleen wildly on Vilark's body.

Clenching his teeth, Vilark refused to utter the words.

Fletcher assumed Vilark was defying his authority, driving him to madness as he applied significantly more weight with his foot. "Say it!"

—Nord... Dempsey...

—Inequality is an eternal characteristic of human society, but the 'contract' between rulers and the ruled ought to be re-evaluated. The government should not merely protect the wealth and rights of a minority, but rather focus on the rights and equality of every single person.

The figures of his two close friends flashed through Vilark's mind, alongside those words from the treatise on equality.

The burning sensation of pain across his face, the insults ringing in his ears.

Vilark contemplated why he was risking his life to do all this.

He wanted to stop being looked down upon, he wanted to live an affluent life, he refused to be treated as a parasite any longer, and he wanted to live with dignity.

"You..."

Hearing Vilark speak, Fletcher halted his verbal abuse.

"You..." Vilark grabbed Fletcher by the ankle with one hand and jerked it away, pulling him off balance. "You wretched, dying old geezer..."

Fletcher froze for a few seconds, doubting whether he had misheard. This lowly wretch, who had cowered on the floor at his mercy, actually had the audacity to curse him.

"You're courting death!" Thoroughly provoked, Fletcher recklessly lifted his foot, aiming a vicious kick straight at Vilark's head.

Vilark rolled out of the way and swiftly sprang to his feet. One side of his face was covered in footprints, and his clothes were in utter disarray. "Are you trying to kill me? There's a knife right in the desk drawer. Go on, take it out and plunge it straight into my heart, and then you'll have your wish."

Fletcher, who had been about to step forward and beat Vilark, froze in his tracks upon hearing these words.

"I'm a vile wretch? Then what do you suppose you are? A beast that's spent decades acting as a dog for the wealthy?" Seeing Fletcher's stunned expression, Vilark felt an unprecedented sense of elation. "Where does your sense of superiority come from? A mere dog, and you dare point fingers at me?"

"Vilark..." Fletcher's chest heaved violently.

"You're only ever capable of wearing this foul, condescending expression in front of me." Vilark stepped forward boldly. "Whose status do you think matters more? When we see Elizabeth tonight, whose facial injuries will be of absolutely no consequence to anyone?"

Out of habit, Fletcher reached out to grab Vilark by the collar.

Vilark seized Fletcher's collar right back and shoved him hard against the wall. The feigned cowardice vanished, replaced by a genuine ruthlessness and murderous intent. "Say it: you are a vile wretch."

"You want to die!" Fletcher tried to break free, but Vilark was far younger than him and possessed vastly superior strength.

"If you don't say it, I'll use the knife in the drawer to carve a gash across my own face." Vilark thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of toying with this bastard who had once driven him like a hound. "Do you think Mr. Carmine will believe I did that to myself, or that it was the work of someone with a documented history of mental illness?"

"How do you know that?!" Fletcher was once again shocked.

"Say it: you are a vile wretch." Vilark bypassed the question. "I'll give you only three seconds."

"Doing this will only plunge your life in the Thomas family into living hell!" Fletcher realized he had vastly underestimated this young man; he was far more troublesome than he had ever imagined. "Are you making an enemy of me?!"

"Three." Vilark remained unmoved.

"I'll kill you with my own hands!"

"Two!"

"Vilark!!"

"One!"

"I am a vile wretch!"