Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Shocked and terrified gasps flew through the room. Tristan smirked at the terrified reaction of his family, but his eyes were glaring daggers at them.

"T-Tristan!" Norah cried out, clutching her heart.

"Tristan!" Daniel shouted, shooting to his feet so swiftly that his chair fell to the ground. He grabbed a butter knife from the table and pointed it at Tristan like it was an actual weapon that could protect him.

Harry didn't shout, but also stood up. His eyes were flickering to the exits from the dining room.

Tristan knew he was already thinking about ways of escaping, perhaps toward a weapon. But the man wasn't actively considering it, he was too terrified for it. This was just a reflexive panic reaction caused by surprise.

"What are you doing here?! Wasn't ruining the lives of your OWN PARENTS bad enough—you must stalk them now, too?" Daniel asked accusingly.

Tristan grit his teeth under the mask of the same smug smirk.

"I ruined their lives, because they deserve it—but then YOU, Daniel, had to appear and make them better. Better than they should be!" Tristan sneered. "I can't believe you are acting on the goodness of your heart here, but no matter what your scheme is this time… I can't let this continue."

Tristan didn't want to believe that Daniel would help his parents out of pure altruism, at least. But as he watched the relationship threads between the three, he had a growing sinking feeling that this was exactly what was going on.

There was love between the three people. It wasn't the purest, and there were hints of other, darker emotions—like envy or anger. But at the core of it all? Love and loyalty.

Almost nothing of that was coming in Tristan's directions. The amounts were so tiny, they could be used in homeopathy. It was infuriating–why wasn't the same love offered to him? How was he worse than Daniel?

"Tristan, please, stop this!" Norah pleaded, teary-eyed. "You have the right to be angry, but didn't you have enough revenge?"

She was acting. Lying like the two-faced bitch she was. She was just saying whatever she thought would make Tristan back off, whether or not she believed her words.

And from what Tristan had heard earlier, she didn't.

"Tristan, your mother is right. This is enough," Harry said. "Don't bring Daniel into this."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"I absolutely will," Tristan said.

He jumped off the windowsill, closed the window behind him, and stood inside the dining room. Slowly measuring each step, Tristan walked toward Daniel.

Tristan's brother was still holding a butter knife pointed at Tristan, but his hand was shaking now.

"Daniel, you have one chance to apologize."

In response, Daniel let out a bark of surprised laughter.

"What?! Apologize? For what?! What are you even hating me for? All the troubles you were in—don't try to pin them on us, you brought them upon you! From being stupid enough to drive drunk, to running away from home—what was stopping you from just living a calm life?"

Tristan's hands clenched into fists.

"Is this how you see it? You were the one who encouraged me to drunk drive in the first place, Daniel."

Daniel shook his head rapidly and slammed the butter knife back on the table.

"What?! This is insane. Don't just put your own blame on me, and don't put words in my mouth! You are delusional, Tristan. A real psychopath, a criminal, a murderer—instead of coming here, you should've gone to a mental hospital! Or a prison! Or even the death row!"

It was incredible how easily the lie fell from Daniel's lips, and how genuinely he spoke it. The man was repeating this to himself for a long time, enough to completely and truly fool himself.

Perhaps even Daniel's memory of the events that led to Tristan's car crash changed over time. Things like these happened all the time.

But Tristan's mind was clear, and his memory was sharper than glass.

All that Daniel's words achieved was making his anger reach a boiling point. No amount of acting could fight against the sun-like heat of wrath Tristan felt.

His hands moved on their own.

A gunshot sounded in unison with the Hayes family's terrified shouts.

Daniel fell to the ground, clutching a rapidly spreading red spot on his chest. Tristan stared at him coldly, still holding a gun with a smoking barrel in his hand.

"No, no, Dani! DANIII!" Norah shouted, running up to him. "Harry, don't stand around! Harry, an ambulance! CALL AN AMBULANCE!"

Harry was sweating and panicking. He tried to get out his phone but fumbled and almost dropped it, then seemed to forget his own unlock password.

Tristan holstered his gun and turned away.

The anger went away—there was only peace left in Tristan's soul. Or emptiness, perhaps—he couldn't tell. He was satisfied, nevertheless.

He left the same way he entered—through the window—with a single intent.

'I won't see those people again.'

His car was parked a couple of streets away. When Tristan sat in it and closed the door, the tinted windows cut him from the outside world behind a black glass curtain.

From that day on, Tristan's criminal empire would only grow—and so would his darkness. The more people he put under his thumb, the more enemies he created—and the more of them he got rid of preemptively.

His people were loyal to him, but also deeply afraid of ever crossing him. Those who knew some of Tristan's secrets were only more afraid than those who didn't—because Tristan didn't like those who could potentially threaten him.

Tristan Hayes was alone on his bloody throne, with no one to betray him, and no one to execute further revenge on.

But in the daylight, he still will have the beautiful lie of a showbiz life, where people adored him, where he had friends who cared for him more than they were afraid of him.

Two sides of the same coin, but only one was real.