Dark history.
Anything worthy of being called a 'dark history' inevitably makes the person involved want to say, 'Let the past stay buried—seal it for life!' When Jack Young heard those three words from that silly cutie, he braced himself for a storm of embarrassment. The moment he boarded the flight to Shanghai, he took a deep breath and psyched himself up.
Sure, he’d lost his memory, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot. He knew—once the plane landed in Shanghai, something he absolutely didn’t want to face would be waiting for him. But as soon as he walked out of Hongqiao Airport, he still had the urge to turn around and run, to fly off to somewhere no one could ever find him.
Because right in front of him, a whole crowd lined up. There were more than a dozen people, men and women of all shapes and sizes, with every skin color—black, white, yellow, you name it. But every single one of them was dressed in black, wearing sunglasses, and radiating this tough-guy vibe, faces frozen like stone. They’d all been waiting in their cars, so Jack hadn’t noticed anything. But the moment he stepped out the airport doors, they all burst out of their vehicles, swarmed him in a flash, and formed a circle around him. The scene startled nearby travelers, who instinctively backed away to watch.
What was this—an arrest? A heist? A kidnapping? Didn’t look like any of those—because these people were standing in a circle with their backs to Jack Young, all facing outward. Each had a professional-looking earpiece jammed in their ear, and the whole setup felt oddly familiar.
“What are you guys doing...?” None of these black-clad folks seemed hostile, so Jack didn’t make a move—he was completely baffled.
One burly guy tapped his earpiece, looking straight out of a sci-fi flick: “Reporting in, reporting in! Target has arrived—no injuries. Repeat: Target is unharmed. Commencing protective follow, OVER.”
“Uh...” At that moment, a vein popped on Jack’s forehead.
He instantly figured it out, and his eyes went full dead-fish mode—because he heard Bobby Brooks’ familiar Cantonese accent crackling through the earpiece: “Good job, that’s it! Don’t let him get away! If he tries to run... well, you probably can’t stop him, but wherever he goes, you follow! Don’t let him escape! Keep that formation—I’m on my way!”
Jack took a long, hissing breath, doing his best to squash his roiling emotions, but—yeah, he couldn’t hold it in! So he reached out and grabbed a black-clad guy. The bodyguard instinctively tried to dodge, block, maybe even counterattack, but none of it worked. Jack’s grab looked slow, but there was no way to avoid it—he just calmly plucked the earpiece right off, not a whiff of effort.
No matter how freaked out those black-clad folks were, for Jack Young, grabbing the earpiece was just a casual move. He glared at the mic and said, "Bobby Brooks, what kind of operation are you running here? Seriously, your whole 'mobilize the masses to catch the lazy prince' routine—what’s up with that?"
"Eh? Y-you heard that?" Bobby Brooks was caught red-handed, like a thief on the spot, and instantly turned sheepish: "Well, haha, it’s actually super complicated—hard to explain in a few words..."
"Then start with the not-so-complicated parts." Jack glanced at the black-clad crowd practically forming a go board around him: "So, what’s up with these brothers and sisters who look like they could whip out a memory eraser from their jacket pocket at any second, whose main job seems to be managing aliens?"
"Them? Uh, well, haha, it’s totally normal—they’re the bodyguards I got for you! Bodyguards are supposed to stick to the target like glue, right?" Bobby Brooks was smooth-talking, but the vein on Jack’s forehead only got bigger. He spat out each word with emphasis: "Body...guards? You got them...to protect—me?"
Can’t blame him for the sarcasm—the bodyguard excuse was just lame. Back when Jonathan Black tried to poach him for underground boxing, he used 'bodyguards' as a cover, and now Bobby was pushing the same shtick. Jack squinted at the mic and gave Bobby an ultimatum: "Just tell the truth, Bobby. What’s really going on?"
Grabbing the earpiece wasn’t just for chatting with Bobby—it also let Jack size up the black-clad crowd. In that split-second ambush, their moves, reactions, expressions, and even the flow of their blood and energy couldn’t escape his keen eye. These folks didn’t seem like bodyguards—at least not the professional kind. More like warriors. Their special marks and insignias didn’t get past his sharp observation either.
Especially those classic stone-cold faces...
"These guys are Charlie’s recruits, aren’t they? They’ve got the old special forces marks—should be our own people. But why the big show at the airport, blocking me at the door? Bobby, give me the real reason." Jack’s voice was calm, but Bobby finally cracked under the pressure: "Okay, fine, I’ll talk. It’s kind of a status thing. If a big boss or tycoon goes out without a bunch of bodyguards, the competition will mock and doubt him."
"Competition? Mock? Doubt?" Jack had a bad feeling, his mind running through a bunch of possibilities, landing on the most likely one: "Don’t tell me... I’ve been set up again?"
"No, no, I swear I didn’t set you up!"
Just then, Jack heard a roar in the distance. Looking up, he saw a Mercedes barreling toward him—and he had a feeling it was coming for him. Sure enough, with a screech, the car stopped right in front of him. The door swung open, and Bobby Brooks tumbled out, drenched in sweat and grinning obsequiously: "Your Highness, I swear I didn’t set you up—it was you who walked right into it..."
(This chapter isn’t over yet~.~ Please click next page for more!)
Five minutes later, a convoy cruised down the road. In one of the Mercedes, Jack squinted at his phone. In those five minutes, Bobby had said a lot to explain, but it all boiled down to one thing: he wasn’t the mastermind. And Jack knew Bobby’s personality—no way would he have the guts to set him up. So, it had to be some shady boss pulling strings. Jack dialed a number: "Hey, it’s me... You’re laughing? You start laughing the second you pick up, which means you’re definitely watching me struggle. You totally set me up on purpose!"
On the other end, Jonathan Black burst out laughing: "Hahaha, I’ve been waiting for your call! Eternal Night ran into trouble expanding in Shanghai—we need someone with real clout to hold down the fort. And since you’re here, as a senior director, you can’t dodge this one—cousin."
"Aren’t I supposed to be in charge of the entertainment division? I’m just the low-key boss behind the scenes! I don’t know the first thing about real estate—having an outsider lead the pros is a recipe for disaster. And besides, if it’s so important, why aren’t you here, cousin?" Jack wasn’t just making excuses—everyone had their own role. Jonathan could do things Jack wouldn’t touch, and vice versa. No need to spell it out, but everyone understood.
"I’d love to, but I’m stretched too thin. You have no idea how tough it is negotiating tech transfers and acquisitions with the Japanese. The insider-outsider divide is brutal—even money doesn’t talk here." Jonathan sounded like he had his hands full.
"Japan?" Jack nodded thoughtfully. "So you’re buying a Japanese company, huh? Nice, I’ll have to try being a boss in Japan someday. Yeah, the Japanese are super insular. Luckily, you’ve got that foreigner face—otherwise, it’d be even tougher. Which company’s giving you so much trouble?"
Jonathan replied casually, "Mazda."
“Ma...” Jack nearly choked. After catching his breath, he confirmed with a twitching mouth: “Mazda? One of the world’s top 500, one of Japan’s most badass car companies, Mazda Corporation? I look away for a few days and Eternal Night’s buying Mazda now? Are you kidding me!” Sure, Mazda had hit a rough patch, but a century-old company is still a big fish. Buying them? Why not just say you’re buying Microsoft next?
"That’s what makes it a headline. But it’s not Mazda’s global business—this time, we’re mainly after the Kanto Power Technology Center, just a research institute. Mazda’s been stuck on rotary engines for years, burning through resources with nothing to show for it. The company’s shaky these days, which gave me an opening. Anyway, I’ve got too much on my plate to handle Shanghai, so I had to throw you under the bus—go get ‘em!"
Beep—the call ended.
Jack put down the phone, speechless, and glanced at the anxious Bobby Brooks beside him. Bobby was sweating bullets. Noticing Jack’s look, he forced a dry laugh: "Your Highness, I’m fine with intel work, but with so many decisions to make now, I’m just one guy..."
"Sigh..." Well, Jonathan was off playing hero, and Bobby was plenty capable, but not the decisive type. As for Charlie... even if he was in Shanghai instead of Chengdu, he’d just add one more grumpy old guy to the mix. Since Jack was a senior director at Eternal Night Holdings Group, he couldn’t exactly slack off—after all, it was his family’s business.
"I only came here to slap some faces and crush a few egos, but since I’m here, guess I’m stuck with the job." As long as it didn’t mess with his personal stuff—though honestly, the line between business and pleasure was getting pretty weird—he might as well play the big boss of Eternal Night for a while. "Alright, spill it. What’s the situation?"
"Whew..." Bobby let out a long breath, finally relaxing. With Jack around, he always felt like nothing could shake him. So Bobby started his report, and Jack finally got a handle on what he’d have to deal with.