CHAPTER 5

Night.

Michael wandered around until he found a place he could sleep for the night.

His plan for revenge was proving to be difficult. He wasn't raised in a dark environment, so now he was struggling with what to do.

When he woke up in the pile of trash, he had the courage to think about killing. But now, just thinking about getting his hands bloody made his body shudder.

Killing? No way. It's not his forte. He didn't even know how to kill a bug, let alone a person. He lived honestly until he became rich, so what did he know about hurting others?

He let out a sigh, looking up at the sky. He only glanced at the stars for a moment. He remembered the night he was killed.

Who would have thought that on a calm night like that, his life would end just like that? Now, he hates that scenery. It only reminds him of what happened to him.

He died in his own territory. Didn't he hire a private army to ensure his guests' safety? But the funny thing was, he died while those private army he hired were around his territory.

Earlier, when he passed by a TV store, he found out it had been a month since he died. They even showed the color of his coffin on the news - it was pure white. Maybe his friend Jam chose it since he didn't have any relatives.

He wants to thank his best friend for giving him a decent funeral. At least, he knows he was in a good state when he died.

Michael laughed like he'd lost his mind when he remembered something from the news. His death was still being talked about.

He recalled an interview between a reporter and his security guard.

"Do you remember anything unusual happening to the company's CEO before he died?"

He saw the guard look around, like he was following orders from someone off-camera.

"S-sir Michael was anxious, sir." The guard wiped his sweat and bowed. "That's all, sir. I-I'm sorry, I don't have anything else to say. I'm saddened by what happened to Sir, especially since he was kind to me. I just can't accept that—"

That's where the interview cut off. The media had stopped it there.

"That's freaking interesting," Michael said to himself, touching the black daffodil in his pocket.

Strangely, he didn't feel angry at the guard. Maybe it was because he saw the sadness in the guard's eyes when he was speaking.

This must be what it's like for a dead person to have one or two people mourning them.

After thinking about the guard, he remembered Daisy. She was one of the people interviewed. She's his friend Jam's girlfriend, and although he'd met her at gatherings, he wasn't close to her. What he couldn't understand was why his blood was boiling when he saw her on screen.

Then there were the media people. Those behind the freaking media.

He laughed at the media, especially since he knew the guard personally. The guard was kind and had a big family. He had principles, so Michael wasn't sure if someone had paid him to lie. Maybe the media could be bought, but what about the poor guard who needed money?

What he couldn't fully understand was how his colleagues said he committed suicide. They said he hanged himself in his own room.

And according to what they said on the news, Michael died peacefully.

But how could he die peacefully? He knew his mouth was open and his eyes were full of fear when he died. So he didn't know how he died so peacefully?

And hanged himself?

Didn't he drown in his own blood from being stabbed? How did they know? Of course, he saw his cold freaking body on the floor.

He took out the daffodil from his pocket and looked at it. "What is it that you want me to know, D?”

This was the first time he used a name for the black flower.

D.

D didn't stand for Daffodil, but rather for Devil or Demon.

It was as if the black flower heard him, because a cold breeze surrounded his body. But it didn't even give him chills.

Two wishes, huh?

"What will I ask of you, D? I should be careful, especially since you're a king of deceit. It's hard to tell. Maybe I won't even get to take revenge before you take me to the hell you came from."

Michael leaned against the shed's post, thinking about what he could wish for when he took his first step.

But hours passed, and he couldn't think of anything.

He yawned, but he wasn't sleepy. He wasn't hungry either.

He didn't feel anything. He couldn't even feel his heartbeat. It was like he was under anesthesia because of his situation.

Michael stood up and walked.

Now he knew where he was going. His steps were certain as he thought about what to do when he saw the person he was looking for.

What's interesting was that before he died, he didn't know where the person's house was. But now, it was like a painting in front of him - the appearance of the person's shack.

He wanted to find out from this person what happened on the day he died.

He wanted to visit Jam and ask for help. But he didn't want to surprise him, so maybe later. Besides, his friend had a heart condition. He didn't want him to get hurt because of him.