Around the time Raymond was starting to fight routinely, Vincent was sitting in a room alone.

It was a small and cramped room. The walls were unpainted concrete, while the floor was carpeted, which was beset with odd stains.

On one side of the room, there was a blank TV and surround sound system. He could imagine what would happen if he turned it on: tinny, crackling noise, or perhaps it would not work at all.

Even worse, right above him was an air conditioning unit that was functioning too well. As Vincent jiggled his leg, cold air blasted him every thirty seconds.

He was waiting for someone. That person had chose to meet at a KTV parlour, because he owned the place, and never came on time.

Stupid, shitty intimidation tactic. From the moment his presence was requested, Vincent had prepared himself to grit his teeth and bear it.

Finally, at ten minutes to the hour, Timmy Chen opened the door and stepped inside.

Appearances could be deceiving. Timmy did not cut an imposing figure, but this tall nerd was the head of the city's largest enterprise. He had his fingers in casinos, brothels, underground clubs, and fighting rings. He also dabbled in the mundane: convenience stores, restaurants, real estate, and street cleaning.

"Shall we sing first, to get warmed up?" was the first thing Timmy said.

"No thanks," Vincent told him.

"Are you sure? I could put on Lady Gaga or recite Cao Cao's poem from the Battle of the Red Cliffs."

Vincent remained stone-faced and miserable.

"You're killing the mood." Timmy sat down from across him, and crossed his legs. Then he faced Vincent and said, “Fine, then. Let’s get down to business.

"The total owing from your debt is nine hundred and eighty-eight thousand dollars."

"How is it that much?!"

"The interest is calculated on top of your existing interest."

"Of course."

Timmy leaned forward on his elbows. "So, do you know when you'll clear it?"

It was phrased like a question, if fucking up a question meant being riddled with bullets and dumped to the bottom of the lake. Vincent said, in a cold sweat, "Soon. I'll pay it back soon. Just trust me."

"I don't trust you," Timmy said, "but I trust your family background."

His blood chilled at those words, that Vincent was most afraid of. Sign a deal with the devil and give him collateral, and he'd expect to collect one day.