The Sovereign Auditor: World Liquidation.

Chapter 8: The Luxury of Despair

"You can’t foreclose on me!" Zhao’s scream was raw, tearing through the penthouse. "My father owns this city! He owns the banks! He owns the air you breathe!"

I didn't answer. I didn't have to.

Zhao’s phone, lying on the mahogany desk, began to vibrate uncontrollably. It danced across the wood, buzzing like a trapped hornet.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

Zhao snatched it up. His face went from a bruised purple to a sickly, translucent white. "No. No, that’s a glitch. It’s a hack!"

"What is it, Zhao?" I asked. My voice was a low crawl.

"Transaction declined," he whispered, staring at the screen. "Declined. Declined. Declined. My Amex... my Swiss reserve... they’re all greyed out."

"The system doesn't make mistakes," I said. "It only settles debts."

Before he could speak, my own phone rang. The caller ID made my heart thump against my bruised ribs. St. Jude’s Private Wing.

I swiped. "Yue?"

"Han?" Her voice hit me like a physical shock. It wasn't the weak rasp from the rain. It was clear. Vibrant. 

"Han, I’m awake! The doctors are confused. They say my blood work is perfect. I feel like I could run a marathon. Where are you?"

I closed my eyes, a knot of tension in my chest finally snapping. "I’m at work, Yue. I’m finishing up. I’ll be there soon. Just stay in bed. I’ve paid for everything."

"You did it, Han," she laughed. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. "You saved me." I hung up.

[System Notification: Quest 'The First Transaction' Complete.]

[Reward: $100 Million Bonus.]

[Observation: Social Humiliation yields 300% more points than violence.]

I looked at Zhao. He was a broken man, but he was still standing in his expensive suit. "Conall," I called out.

The security captain stepped forward. "Sir?"

"Don't throw him out yet," I said. Zhao looked up, a spark of pathetic hope in his eyes. "You... you’re letting me stay?"

"Sure," I said, leaning back against the desk. "Stay as long as you want. But look around, Zhao. The leather on that couch? I bought the manufacturer this morning. The scotch? I own the distillery. You aren't the master here. You’re a guest of the man who owns the chair you’re sitting on."

Zhao slumped onto the white sofa, soaking in his spilled wine. He looked diminished. Then, I felt a hand on my arm. Soft. Warm.

Lin Xiao had moved away from Zhao. She was standing next to me now, her eyes shining with fake tears. She leaned in, her perfume cloying and sweet.

"Han," she whispered, her voice a hushed, urgent breath. "You have to listen to me. I never wanted to leave you. I was only with him to get the money."

I turned my head slowly. "The money?"

"For Yue!" she hissed, glancing at Zhao with venom. "I knew his father controlled the insurance. 

I thought if I stayed close to Zhao, I could convince him to pay. I did it for you, Han. I sacrificed myself for your family."

I stared at her. The "Eye of Valuation" was active. Her value was $8.40. She was depreciating in real-time.

"You did it for me?" I asked. "Yes!" She grabbed my hand. "I hated every second of it. He’s a pig. 

Please, Han. Let’s just go. We have the money now. We can be together again." I didn't pull my hand away. I tapped a command on the tablet embedded in the desk.

"I remember the hotel very differently, Xiao," I said. Suddenly, the penthouse’s surround-sound system roared to life.

"This? You bought me a plastic flower from a gas station, Han Sen?" Lin Xiao’s voice boomed, dripping with the mockery of the previous night.

"Once the surgery is over, you’ll still be a loser. I’m tired of being poor. I’m tired of smelling like the cheap bus."

The recording echoed off the glass walls. Zhao looked up, his eyes narrowing as he heard the betrayal. Lin Xiao froze, her face turning a mottled, ugly red.

"Han, stop it," she pleaded. "I was just angry!"

"Go on, Han Sen. Do it for Yue. You were always so good at being a martyr." The recording cut out. The silence was heavier than the noise.

"You traded a plastic rose for a gold watch," I said, pulling my hand back. I wiped my palm on my trousers. "But the watch was stolen. And the rose? It was the last thing I had."

"Han, please—"

"Captain Conall," I said. "Get her out. She’s cluttering the room."

Conall grabbed Lin Xiao’s arm. She screamed, her heels skidding as she was dragged toward the elevator. "You’ll regret this, Han Sen! You’re still just a lucky dog!"

The elevator doors swallowed her screams. I looked at Zhao. He was staring out the window, his mouth agape.

"What now?" Zhao whispered. "You've taken everything. Just kill me."

"Kill you?" I shook my head. "That’s too cheap. I want you to watch the liquidation." A rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum began to vibrate the floor. It was coming from outside.

A massive black helicopter with gold lettering hovered just feet away from the windows. The rotor wash blasted against the glass, making the penthouse shudder.

Zhao’s eyes went wide. "The rescue team? Dad sent the security?" I looked at the markings on the bird. "Not exactly, Zhao."

The side door of the helicopter slid open. Men in tactical gear with "NTB" emblazoned across their chests began to fast-rope down.

"National Tax Bureau," I said. "It turns out your father hasn't paid a cent in corporate tax since 2014. I sent them the 'real' books five minutes ago."

Zhao stood up, his legs shaking. "No. My father... he has connections! He has the Iron Fist Sect!"

"The Sect can't fight a federal audit, Zhao," I said. "And they definitely can't fight the man who just bought their debt."

The elevator chimed. It wasn't my security. It was a line of men in dark suits, led by a woman with a badge.

"Zhao Ming?" She asked, looking at the man on the couch. Zhao didn't speak. He just stared at the handcuffs on her belt.

I turned away from the window. Zhao's value was now $0.00.

He was officially liquidated.