Ethan didn’t have the patience to listen to him drag out his words, and directly interrupted, “In my opinion, your book is like a stack of toilet paper bound together, and every sheet is the kind that’s already been used. When I flip through it, my fingers, eyes, and soul are all deeply wounded. Therefore…” He stared at Henry Clark. “I really hope to sell this book to you at a low price as soon as possible.”

Henry Clark was stunned for two seconds, then immediately nodded. “Okay, okay! How much do you want? I’ll buy it right now…” As he spoke, he actually started to pull out his wallet.

Ethan waved his hand to stop him. “No need. If I wanted money, I could just rob a bank; or instruct someone else to rob a bank and take a cut; or instruct someone to rob a bank and then rob them afterwards… Hmm… I’m getting off track. Anyway, you don’t need to buy this book with money. As long as you agree to do something for me, that’s enough.”

Henry Clark immediately became wary. He was the type to weigh the pros and cons of everything: “What do you want me to do?”

But Ethan’s next words quickly put him at ease. “Help me put this package into Walter Reed’s mailbox.” As he spoke, he took a large envelope from the drawer and placed it on the table.

Judging by the outline from the outside, it seemed to be a book inside an envelope. Henry Clark thought for a moment and asked, “Hey, this isn’t something dangerous, is it?”

Ethan said, “Relax, it’s just a videotape. Don’t open the envelope—just put it directly into Walter Reed’s mailbox. You know his address, right?” As he spoke, he picked up a pen and wrote a line on the envelope: For Miura Kazuya.

“So? Have you decided? Be my postman this once, and I’ll give you your book.” Ethan asked with a cold smile.

Henry Clark’s reaction was entirely predictable. He stuffed the package into his coat. “You’d better keep your word.”

“That depends on how well you do.” He said mockingly, “Don’t even think about taking it home for a look or anything like that. Your actions…” Ethan patted Henry Clark’s book of the heart on the table, “I know all about them.”

“Tch…” Henry Clark turned and left.

He didn’t ask why the other party wanted him to do this, nor did he think about why there was a book filled with his own inner thoughts. His reaction was exactly the same as Samuel Grant’s two days later. Faced with absurd reality, he didn’t question or ignore it, but chose to make a deal, to follow someone else’s rules.

Ethan watched as Henry Clark’s figure disappeared through the doorway, and couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle a few times. Taking a sip of coffee, he casually picked up another black-covered book from the floor and began to read it with relish.

Chapter Eight: The Videotape

That night, Walter Reed didn’t get home until nine. He glanced at the shoe cabinet by the entrance—his father’s dress shoes, which he’d worn out that morning, weren’t there.

He took some leftovers from the fridge, heated them up, and ate a few bites absentmindedly. Just as he was about to head to his room, his mother came downstairs.

“So it’s Kazuya. You came home without saying a word—I thought there was a burglar in the house.”

“If it was a burglar, you wouldn’t have heard anything.”

“Out playing with your upperclassmen so late again today, and you didn’t even call home.”

Walter Reed replied irritably, “I’ve told you so many times, it’s rehearsal!”

“Yes, yes, rehearsal. So how did rehearsal go?” In truth, his mother wasn’t very interested in the answer.

Walter Reed replied, “Tch… It was terrible. Howard Blake said he suddenly couldn’t come because of something at home, and the third-year seniors were all listless all day, sighing about how it’s the end of the year again, and that by this time next year they won’t be high school students anymore, and going on about entrance exam pressure, the future, jobs, and so on. They don’t even feel embarrassed saying all that in front of us juniors—what a useless bunch.”

“I actually think your upperclassmen are right. If you keep wasting time like this, you’ll be just like them next year, Kazuya.”

“Whatever. I’ll just get into some random college, right? After graduation, Dad will definitely pull some strings and set me up with a job, won’t he?” As Walter Reed spoke, he got up to leave. Conversations with his mother usually ended like this.

His mother sighed and didn’t pursue the topic further. Suddenly, she remembered something and called to Walter Reed’s back, “Oh, by the way, Kazuya, there was a package for you in the mailbox with your name on it. I’ve already put it on your desk.”

“Got it.” Walter Reed replied perfunctorily and closed his door.

Leaning against the door, facing the pitch-black room, many thoughts floated through Walter Reed’s mind. At first, he’d joined the light music club for two reasons: to rebel against his father, and because he thought it would be easy to get by in that club.

But the result was completely unexpected. This group of youths, who seemed rebellious and unruly to outsiders, weren’t at all like he’d imagined—hanging out smoking together all day. Instead, they spent the whole year practicing hard. After joining, almost all his free time was taken up, and he often practiced late into the night on weekends, just like today. Even his father, who had firmly opposed him playing an instrument at first, had gradually started to change his attitude.