> Milton Miller
There were only two names in the underground that could freeze a room just by being spoken.
Segreev Archeval, the Mad Demon.
And Venzrich Archeval, the Bane.
They came from the same bloodline. A family raised on violence, whispered about like a curse in the cartel. If you worked long enough in the underground, you were bound to hear those names even once. And if you were unlucky enough, you would meet them.
I was unlucky.
Or maybe lucky, depending on how you looked at it. After all, It was a great pleasure for someone like me to even be breathing the same air and same space at them.
I served one of them. Venzrich Archeval. Not just as a subordinate, but as his right hand man. His shadow.
There was only one reason someone like me was needed at his side.
Venzrich Archeval had a flaw.
A single weakness that kept him from surpassing even his grandfather.
He refused to kill women.
