AB Chapter 30: Eric Ellis (Part 1)
Chicago.
A villa on the hillside of Lake Forest.
A pool party was in full swing inside the private indoor pool of Ellis’s mansion.
The entire glass dome exposed the night sky and stars above. Deafening, upbeat music blasted from the speakers, with opened beer bottles and food covering the tables.
Young men and women in swimsuits laughed and joked, barefoot on the ribbons, splashing water everywhere amidst wild cheers and playful teasing.
The drunk youths swayed as they clinked bottles with the people next to them, their grins wide, their dulled nerves stretched to the limit.
Most of them could no longer recognize who was around them, nor did they care about exhaustion or reason. But so what?
After all, here, all that mattered was dancing and partying!
Under the teasing whistles and laughter, someone was tossed into the pool, the splash drawing carefree laughter from the crowd.
With alcohol amplifying their high, even the smallest movement could set off inexplicable, uncontrollable giggles.
They didn’t even know what they were laughing at—but it felt good.
When the person climbed out of the pool, dripping and staggering, the music shifted to an even more intense beat.
The onlookers immediately abandoned the current entertainment, flocking like zombies to the poolside, continuing their revelry.
On a lounger nearby, covered with a blanket—
Eric threw his phone onto the table after sending a text.
His bloodshot eyes swept over his classmates and party friends with a cold sneer.
Hah—those so-called cold goddesses with their voluptuous figures? Those dazzling school heartthrobs?
Just look at these self-important, arrogant bastards from the weapons engineering department—so high and mighty, but scared shitless of him.
They dreamed every day of becoming someone brilliant, thinking even their farts smelled sweet. And yet in the end, they wagged their tails at someone like him—like dogs sniffing out a bone—because of the Ellis family backing him.
Ha!
Disgusting!
Eric suddenly burst into laughter, startling the nearby lackeys, who instinctively backed away from him, swallowing nervously.
Eric, who had a mild hereditary mental disorder, was always a little unhinged. He was like a rabid dog, drooling and red-eyed, ready to bite at any moment.
No one dared approach him—even with all his money, not even the girls came close. After all, Eric didn’t distinguish between men and women. If you pissed him off, he’d beat you half to death.
The drunk boys and girls eyed him nervously, faking their smiles while subtly moving away.
Of course, Eric noticed—but he didn’t care.
Their fear and reverence gave him an indescribable sense of pleasure.
Eyes closed, ignoring the noise, a single face flashed through Eric’s mind: a black-haired young man, lips pressed tightly together, gaze full of panic.
Unconsciously, his thoughts spiraled from that image.
He recalled many things.
Like the first time he saw that boy.
Tired yet clear eyes, a pale and gentle face, shrinking in on himself yet tough—adorable. And the way he cleaned the gun classroom used by seniors, carefully touching the gun barrels… the subtle longing in his eyes.
Asian people were like the perfect blend of black and white—such stark contrast, yet harmonious. He looked like a white gift box wrapped in black ribbon.
So slim and delicate, yet Eric stopped in his tracks for him.
Like a piece of candy that required peeling back layers to reach—stirring a kind of suppressed excitement.
Eric couldn’t deny it: he really liked this “cheap” piece of candy.
So he quickly gathered all the information about him.
Orphan. Poor. Living alone… The perfect type to control.
Eric immediately took action—he had someone steal the boy’s phone, forcing him to return to school and search for it in an empty classroom.
Then Eric walked in.
He grabbed the boy by the collar and said, “I’ll give you a chunk of money. I can buy you luxury stuff you’d never afford in your life. Want it?”
“Huh?”
The boy’s round, confused black-and-white eyes stared at him, making a curious sound.
That head tilt and blink hit Eric again.
He couldn’t help touching the boy’s face—cool, soft, and pleasing to the touch. He was satisfied, and softened his voice:
“As long as you do what I say, be a good dog, come when I call—”
“Sir!”
The boy quickly waved his hands, cutting him off.
Eric was annoyed but held back.
“What else do you want?”
The black-haired boy smiled—shyly, politely. That gentle smile slowly seeped into the part of Eric’s heart that always burned with rage.
“Um…”
“Yeah?”
“Sir, I don’t do gang stuff.”
“…”
“You better find someone else to be your lackey. My aunt’s a cop in NY. If she finds out I’m in a gang, she’ll break my legs!”
“…”
Who the hell said anything about gangs?! I was trying to keep you!
Eric was momentarily stunned by the boy’s answer, and before he could react, the kid had slipped from his grasp and bolted out the room like a greased cat.
When Eric snapped out of it, he kicked over several of his lackeys in a rage and destroyed countless things in his villa that night just to cool down.
After venting, Eric surprisingly didn’t feel urgent anymore.
He thought, Fine, you want to play? I’ll play with you.
Anyway, he quite enjoyed breaking down defenses, tormenting someone bit by bit until they knelt and submitted.
He had no patience for other sluts, but for this tough, tempting black-haired boy—he didn’t mind taking his time.
So, from that day on, Eric did what he did best—threaten. He began showing up near the boy regularly, giving him terrifying grins.
Michel was a serious, hardworking student, so most of his focus was on lectures and his notes.
So...
Even if Eric was grinning like a maniac outside the classroom window, Michel didn’t notice.
On the few occasions he did look up and saw him, Eric would quickly prepare his expression, baring his teeth—
But Michel would just bow his head again.
Michel: That guy outside looks familiar. Urinary issues? Why do I always see him during class breaks? Whatever—back to taking notes.
Frustrated Eric: "..." What the hell!!!
Eric outside the classroom was so angry he nearly ground his teeth to dust.
In his mind, the boy was faking it.
Pretending!
He was probably terrified deep down, just pretending to be calm!
To truly scare Michel into submission and enjoy the sweet victory, Eric memorized his class schedule, timed his appearances, and even stood outside the school gate occasionally.
All just to meet Michel when school ended—to give him a cold look and pressure him into making a decision.
Meanwhile, Michel, exhausted and overworked just to afford his next meal—walked home every day with his head down.
Eric: “…” Lift your damn head! Look at me!
Have the guts to look at me!!!
In this slightly absurd, breakdown-inducing pursuit, one day during class, Benny finally couldn’t hold back his curiosity. Nervously, he asked Michel:
“Michel… why is that psycho Eric always staring at you?”
Michel thought for a moment, trying to recall who Eric was, then whispered back:
“Oh, him. He tried to pull me into a gang… I turned him down.”
Benny: “…” That—Is that so?
Doesn’t seem like it…
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