Novels by velqiane

Ilyndra Steel didn’t blink. She stood by the obsidian desk, her posture as sharp as her name, holding a tablet that flickered with the real-time stock collapse of ‘Pax-Moon Tech,’ Elara’s primary subsidiary. “The sedative kit is ready, Ma’am,” Ilyndra said, her voice a cool alto. “But if you intend to collect him like a stray cat, I suggest we wait until after the market closes. If we miss this window, Elara’s board of directors will have no choice but to sign the liquidation papers.”Lucianara Wave stood up, her silk dress whispering against the stone floor. “Oh, I can multi-task, Ilyndra. I want that man, and I want Elara’s company. Ideally, I’d like to use his own rags to wipe the tears from her face when I take her CEO chair.”Three miles away, Hanzo was currently occupied with a much more pressing issue: his left sneaker had developed a personality. Specifically, the sole had parti

Grimor Vale didn’t laugh. He didn't even crack a smile. Instead, he swung the jagged neck of the broken beer bottle through the air, the green glass whistling a sharp, threatening note that ended abruptly as he pointed it inches from Hanzo’s nose.“You’ve got jokes, Hanzo. I like jokes. They make the world a little less miserable while I’m taking people's things,” Grimor sneered, his breath smelling of cheap menthols and even cheaper gin. Behind him, the dozen thugs shifted, their heavy boots splashing in the oily puddles of the alley. One of them tapped a aluminum baseball bat against his palm with a rhythmicthwack, thwack, thwackthat sounded uncomfortably like a heart beating its last.Hanzo felt a bead of cold sweat roll down his spine, merging with the rainwater. His mind was a chaotic mess of high-finance math and survival instinct.I have one million, seventy-four thousand dollars in my bank accoun

Hanzo stared at the cryptic text, his thumb hovering over the cracked screen of his phone. The threat was ominous, the timing was impeccable, and the sender was anonymous. It was the kind of moment that required a stoic, brooding response—perhaps a whispered vow of vengeance or a tactical retreat to a high-tech command center.Instead, his retinas were suddenly seared by a neon-red interface that only he could see.[WARNING: PROLONGED EXPOSURE TO 800-THREAD-COUNT COTTON HAS DEGRADED YOUR POVERTY RESONANCE BY 45%.][CURRENT STATUS: DANGEROUSLY COMFY.][MANDATORY QUEST ACTIVATED: THE REVENGE OF THE RUSTY CAN.][OBJECTIVE: RETURN TO THE STREETS IMMEDIATELY. SCAVENGE THREE PIECES OF OXIDIZED METAL WITHIN 15 MINUTES OR YOUR BANK BALANCE WILL BE REALLOCATED TO THE ‘FOUNDATION FOR UNDERPRIVILEDGED TRUST-FUND BABIES’.]“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Hanzo muttered, his voice cracking with a mix of exhaustion and genuine heartbreak. He looked down at the plush, heated marble floor. He lo

The crossbow bolt whistled past Hanzo’s ear, missing his temple by a fraction of an inch before shattering a five-hundred-dollar bottle of "Ethereal Mist" artisanal beard oil. The bathroom was instantly filled with the scent of sandalwood and Hanzo’s internal screaming."System! Help! I’m being shot at by Ninjas!" Hanzo roared, scrambling across the slick marble floor.[Quest Alert: "The Janitor’s Justice"][Objective: Neutralize the intruders using only items found within the 'Purity Chamber.'][Constraint: If the towel falls, the reward is halved due to 'Indecent Exposure Penalty.'][Reward: $3,000,000 and the 'Frugal Fighter' Passive Skill.]"Is this really the time for a wardrobe malfunction penalty?" Hanzo hissed, clutching the gold-plated toilet brush with a white-knuckled grip.The first assassin, a man clad in matte-black tactical gear

Hanzo stared at the million-dollar check metaphorically dangling in front of his nose. His stomach let out a sound like a dying whale, a mournful cry for the triple-cheeseburger that a million dollars could certainly buy. His fingers twitched. Every fiber of his being, every survival instinct honed by three days of eating air and desperation, screamed at him to grab the woman’s hand and never let go.[Ding! Warning: Detection of ‘Greed-Induced Tremors.’ System Policy 4-B: A True Scavenger finds value in the discarded, not the currency of the corrupt. Selling the ‘Enigma Napkin’ for profit will result in the ‘Internal Organ Combustion’ penalty. Time remaining to refuse: 3 seconds.]The color drained from Hanzo’s face. Internal organ combustion sounded like a very painful way to spend a Tuesday."I... I can't," Hanzo wheezed, clutching the soggy, champagne-soaked napkin to his chest as if it were the Holy Grail. He l

The door of the luxury limousine hissed open, releasing a concentrated cloud of stale beer, fermented soda, and Hanzo’s particular brand of "alleyway musk" into the pristine air of the Grand Atrium’s driveway.Hanzo stepped out, his sneakers held together by three different types of electrical tape squelching audibly on the plush red carpet. In his left hand, he clutched a bulging black garbage bag. The aluminum cans inside rattled with a metallic clatter that sounded like a skeletal percussion section in the middle of a silent cathedral."Elara," Hanzo whispered, his eyes darting toward the two massive security guards who looked like they’d been carved out of granite and fed exclusively on protein powder. "I don’t think they’re going to let the guy with the bag of recyclables into the place where people buy Faberge eggs."Elara didn't even blink. She stepped out beside him, her silk gown shimmering like moonlight on water, and link