Living a normal life was the ultimate dream of James Seremion, a twenty-seven-year-old man with jet-black hair and sapphire blue eyes.

With his tall, thin body, he was once renowned as the king of ferocity. James was the leader of the Ragnarok gang that had control over all of Great Britain. No one dared to challenge him or get into trouble with his gang.

The mafia respected him, while the innocent ran away in fear. Despite being so young, James never lost a duel or a war between gangsters. He would stand tall, never afraid, no matter the opponent, be it the mafia or the police. He stood at the pinnacle of the black world, with no one able to stand against or match him.

He was fundamentally different from the typical gangsters, who tended to be impulsive and shallow-minded. James, however, was intelligent and chose a path of violence as a lifestyle. Thus, he relied not only on his physical strength during battles but also on his mental aptitude, making him the strongest fighter and an indisputable leader. 

In any altercation, skirmish, or whatever the situation may be, James had the ability to devise a thousand steps ahead of anyone else. He was like a mighty rock cliff, standing firm even in the face of the most powerful storm.

James' power and influence grew exponentially, leading to the establishment of a gangster era throughout Great Britain. His story has become legendary, inspiring countless new gangsters.

However, as his success mounted, James became increasingly fatigued, frustrated, and bored with all that he had achieved. He felt that there was nothing left for him to do, no more challenges to face and overcome.

Thus, he decided to dissolve Ragnarok, the gang he had led since his youth. Despite the opposition of the other members of the gang, there was nothing they could do to prevent it. This was the only way for James to escape the stalemate of his life, which had become dull, depressing, and suffocating.

After carefully considering all of the options, James was faced with two choices: either continue leading Ragnarok and potentially rot away with boredom or pursue something new and drastically different from what he was doing.

It was normal for him to want to switch things up and try something new, just like society in general. It was like a cake with two sides of flavor; James was tired of one side, so he decided to try the other.

On September 30, 1995, the Ragnarok gang was officially disbanded.

***

Five years had passed since James' life had changed dramatically; although he used to be known for his extreme violence, his life was now the exact opposite.

With intelligence and connections, James was now employed as an office worker in the West End area of London: the most elite and expensive area, home to global companies and their respective offices.

His dream was to live a normal life of working from nine in the morning until five in the evening; such a boring routine for most people, yet a huge blessing for the former gang leader.

The days he lived were far from violent, and now he was an ordinary office worker who dealt with documents every day.

"Good afternoon, sir," said Scarlet Armstrong, a woman with reddish-brown hair, bright brown eyes, and a fairly dense body. She was the target of every man's desire and every obscene eye at Wiseman Trade, where James worked as a manager.

"Come on, Scarlet," James said, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of files that had accumulated on his desk. "Can't you reduce the number of files I have to check and sign? Look at my desk, it's like a rat's nest that'll never end!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Scarlet replied. "I'm just doing my job. If I reduced the number of files I had to submit to you, the directors would think I was being negligent in my duties and fire me."

"That's not what I mean," James said, gesturing to the files in front of him. "Can you at least help me to select these documents? I'm sure I could use your assistance."

Scarlet smiled faintly and said, "I'm sorry, sir, but this is your responsibility. I can't help you with this." She said goodbye and left the room.

It might seem cold, but James and Scarlet had a close relationship, and he never minded the attitude of his subordinates.

Without realizing it, time had passed until the sun slowly set and darkness engulfed the light. This signified to James that he must quickly tidy up the table he had been working at and prepare to go home.

Usually, Elizabeth Baines, James' girlfriend, would approach him and ask him to come home together since her lover's workplace was only a few buildings away from James' office. Time was dragging on, and after waiting for approximately an hour, the tall, slender woman with blonde hair and bright blue eyes had still not shown up.

"It's too late, I better go back," James thought to himself as he stepped out of the room. Some of the staff were still hard at work, putting in overtime to finish the assignments they had received.

"It's incredible that your partner hasn't come here to collect you, sir," remarked the staff member. 

"Perhaps she's working late this month, like the rest of you," said James before bowing his head in politeness. "I'll take my leave now. Good night, everyone."

With his warm and polite demeanor, it's hard to believe that James was once the king of thugs, notorious for his penchant for making trouble and committing violent and criminal acts. The impression he gives now is that of a good person who has never been in a mess.

James slowly stepped forward, using a black umbrella to protect himself from the drizzling rain that had been falling since the afternoon. Cranbourn Street, usually bustling with people, now had an air of desolate loneliness, with no pedestrians in sight.

“Help!” In that peaceful atmosphere, a woman's cries for help suddenly pierced the silence. 

James quickly sprang into action, recognizing the voice as Scarlet's. He rushed to her aid and found her being held at gunpoint, a dagger pressed against her hand, as her assailant demanded her possessions.

"Scarlet, are you alright?" asked James, his voice calm and composed. He was experienced in dealing with such situations and knew exactly what to do. 

Scarlet looked up at him, her eyes filled with fear and tears streaming down her cheeks. "James..." she said, her voice trembling.

"Who are you, exactly?" demanded James, not intimidated by the robber's menacing presence. 

"What gives you the right to meddle in my affairs?" The robber snarled, brandishing the knife menacingly. "I'm the one asking the questions here! I don't need any reason to interfere in your business. Now, get out of here or else I won't spare your life!"

Without any further delay, James sprinted towards the robber and lunged at his feet. The wet and slippery roads due to the rain made it easier for James to kick the robber's leg, in a way that resembled a soccer player tackling his opponent.

Unprepared for James' assault, the robber was unable to keep his balance and he fell, with the knife slipping from his grip. James then proceeded to kick the robber in the head, like he was kicking a soccer ball, and the robber was knocked out instantly.

After subduing the robber swiftly, James quickly approached Scarlet. 

“Scarlet, are you hurt?” James asked, with concern in his voice.

"No, James, I'm okay. I can't even begin to imagine what would have happened if you hadn't been there to help me; I'm so thankful," Scarlet said.

James glanced at the white wolf insignia on the robber's jacket and his expression shifted to one of worry. "Thank goodness you're alright, Scarlet. We'd better get out of here before the robber wakes up, or the Fenrir gang finds us."

James quickly stepped away, trailed by Scarlet, out of the dark and cramped space between the two buildings. They emerged onto the main street of Cranbourn, where James waved his hand and hailed a taxi for Scarlet. This way, his subordinates could return home safely.

"Fortunately, I still have time," thought James, feeling immense gratitude. He knew he wouldn't be able to cope with the guilt if something happened to his loved ones because of the gangsters, as he was the one who had set off this era of gangsters.

It only takes around 30 to 40 minutes of walking to reach the two-story house where he has been living with his girlfriend for the past year. He bought the house with the money he earned as an office manager - not a single penny of the money he made as a gangster. The house contains two bedrooms, a living room in the middle, a toilet and a kitchen on the first floor, and a workspace, a warehouse, and two bedrooms on the second floor.

James spread his umbrella once more as he walked through the light rain and drizzle. It didn't take long for him to reach his home, but it was still in darkness with no lights on, which meant that Elizabeth hadn't returned yet.

James's sharp instincts were screaming out loud as he stood silently on the terrace of the house. He had noticed an obvious irregularity; the house was open, yet none of the lights were on, and the door hinges appeared to be broken, as if they had been forced open. "Something is definitely not right here," James muttered to himself.

He stepped into his own home stealthily, making no sound. Even in the faint light, James' trained eyes could easily make out the destruction that had taken place. 

As he had suspected, something had indeed happened. The three jars he had kept along the hallway as decorations had been smashed to bits. The walls and floor bore deep scratches, and furniture had been tossed about haphazardly.

James stepped into the room, his heart heavy with dread. He noticed the bedroom doors were still firmly shut, as if they had been deliberately left untouched. He could make out a faint scent of blood, emanating from the living room which had no door to stop it from spreading. 

His stomach churning with fear, yet strangely calm, he moved forward. What he saw next made his heart break. His girlfriend, Elizabeth, lay in a pool of blood, her body riddled with wounds.