CHAPTER 82: PICKPOCKETING

After the tension in the living room had finally settled, the old man was able to let out a deep breath. His hand still occasionally reached out to touch the robot standing loyally beside him, as if to make sure it wasn’t just an illusion.

A faint smile began to form on his lips, although it was clear the wounds from what had just happened with Roni were still fresh.

Alaric looked at him with deep respect. He stood up, straightened his blazer, and spoke softly.

"Sir, I’ll take my leave now. I hope the robot brings you some comfort. Don’t hesitate to use it—it was made to make your life easier."

The old man hesitated for a moment. "Son, wouldn’t you like to stay for dinner? Or rest for a bit?"

But Alaric only shook his head gently. "Another time, Sir. I still have some things to take care of. Please take care of yourself."

He reached out, clasping the old man’s hand firmly with respect, then turned and quietly walked out of the house.

As the door closed behind him, Alaric’s expression changed. His eyes hardened, filled with determination. Deep down, he knew this wasn’t over yet.

Roni, the old man’s youngest son. The young man who had so shamelessly tried to force his father into signing a land sale agreement, could not be left unchecked.

Alaric stepped into his car parked on the side of the road. He started the engine, the low growl of the motor echoing through the late afternoon air. Staring straight ahead, he whispered to himself, "This time, I won’t let him get away with it."

The car slowly rolled out of the housing complex, but as soon as he reached the main road, Alaric spotted a familiar blue sports bike tearing down the lane several hundred meters ahead.

From the rider’s posture, he knew immediately. It was Roni. The same arrogant teenager who had stormed into his father’s home earlier that day. His hair streamed from beneath a half-helmet, and his body language screamed entitlement, even on the open road, as if the world belonged to him.

Alaric tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pressed down on the accelerator. The black sedan roared to life, speeding after the bike. The late afternoon wind whipped past the windows, and the screech of tires against the asphalt added a sharp edge to the chase.

At first, the distance between them was significant. But Alaric was relentless, weaving expertly between vehicles, calculating every gap. He braked hard when needed, then surged forward again with precision. The car responded like an extension of his instincts.

Up ahead, the motorbike made a sharp turn at an intersection, barely missing a passing minivan. The driver shouted a curse, but Roni merely waved arrogantly without so much as a glance back. What he didn’t realize was that a black sedan was closing in fast behind him, gaining ground with every second.

Alaric clenched his jaw and floored the gas pedal once more. The engine roared louder, closing the gap until there were only meters between them.

At the perfect moment, Alaric jerked the wheel sharply. The tires screeched, leaving thick black marks on the road as the car drifted across the lane, cutting directly into the motorbike’s path with razor-thin precision.

Roni’s eyes widened in shock. He slammed on the brakes, the bike wobbling violently before grinding to a halt just inches from Alaric’s bumper.

"Damn it!" he cursed, ripping off his helmet and throwing it to the ground. He jumped off the bike, rage burning in his expression. His emotions boiled over.

Alaric calmly opened his car door and stepped out. His movements were composed, deliberate. His eyes locked on Roni, piercing and unreadable.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" Roni yelled furiously. "Why are you blocking my way?"

He glanced at the car that had just forced him to stop, then pounded on the side window with a clenched fist.

"Get out here!" he shouted, his voice laced with challenge. "Explain yourself!"

Still sitting behind the wheel, Alaric didn’t react immediately. He simply turned his head slowly, eyes meeting Roni’s through the glass. That stare alone made Roni’s chest tighten. His heart pounded faster, though he tried to mask his fear with bravado.

A few seconds passed before Alaric opened the door. He stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him. He stood tall, clearly more imposing than Roni, and every movement was controlled with purpose.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he watched Roni closely. How his hands trembled slightly, how his eyes couldn’t hold his gaze for long.

Finally, Alaric spoke, his voice low but firm, like a sharp command.

"Where’s the land sale agreement?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Roni froze for a second, caught off guard by the direct question. "What’s it to you?" he snapped, trying to sound defiant, though his lips looked dry. "It’s none of your business. Stay out of it."

But Alaric didn’t flinch. He wasn’t interested in Roni’s protests, and he didn’t bother explaining why he had intercepted him.

"Hand it over. Now," he said, his tone sharper than before, making Roni hesitate for a split second.

"I don’t have it," Roni replied quickly, lowering his head slightly, as if trying to hide his unease. "I told you, I’m not carrying anything."

Alaric exhaled harshly. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Now standing just inches apart, his presence weighed heavily on Roni.

"Liar," Alaric said simply, eyes unblinking. "I saw you snatch it from your father’s hands. That paper doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to your parents. Give it here."

Roni instinctively stepped back, his eyes darting around in panic, searching for a way out. Alaric’s gaze tracked his every move, making it hard to even breathe. It felt like this man could read his thoughts, predict his actions before they even happened.

Then, in a split second, Alaric’s attention flicked briefly toward a honking car in the distance. That was the moment Roni had been waiting for.

Without hesitation, he turned on his heels, leapt onto his motorbike, and twisted the ignition. The engine screamed to life.

"Stop!" Alaric shouted, but it was too late. Roni yanked the throttle, the rear tire screeching as it spun. Smoke rose from the asphalt as he sped away.

Alaric’s jaw clenched tightly. His eyes narrowed in focus. Within seconds, he was back inside the car, firing up the engine and slamming the accelerator to the floor. The sedan surged forward, chasing once again.

Inside the vehicle, Alaric’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His fingers tensed as if he could crush the leather, his mind racing.

He knew Roni wouldn’t respond to lectures or guilt trips. Words were useless. Emotional pleas would bounce off the boy’s ego like pebbles on steel. No, Alaric thought, that kid was too stubborn and too drunk on his own selfish pleasures.

"Waking him up won’t be easy," he muttered.

He leaned back against the seat, eyes half-closed, already weaving a plan in his head. "How do I make him learn without hurting him? How do I hit hard enough to make him stop, but not so hard that he breaks?"

Then, an idea sparked. Elegant. Clean. No violence. No physical damage.

He remembered the land title Roni had taken from his father. That document was now in Roni’s possession, and Alaric knew the boy would try to sell it off as fast as he could. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"In that case... I’ll wait for him there."

Without wasting time, Alaric pulled out his phone, his fingers dancing across the screen. He sent a few short messages to his trusted contacts, asking them to find out which notary Roni usually dealt with for property sales. It didn’t take long for a name and address to appear.

"Perfect," Alaric said as he restarted the car. "I’ll show up as the buyer."

---

Later that day, wearing a modest suit and a clean-shaven disguise, Alaric sat quietly in the notary’s office. A wig covered his hair, and sunglasses shielded his eyes. His appearance was nothing like the man Roni had seen earlier.

He played the role of a potential buyer. Everything went smoothly. The price was set at market value. Nothing too high, nothing suspiciously low.

In the same room, Roni walked in with a cocky grin, acting like the world was finally bending to his will. He laid the documents on the table confidently, signing each one with zero hesitation. Not for a second did he suspect that the buyer sitting across from him was the same man who had stopped him on the road just hours ago.

The deal was finalized. Roni’s smile widened as he slid the official paperwork into his shoulder bag. He was already picturing the celebration: drinks with friends, a brand-new bike, wild nights filled with laughter. "This money’s mine now," he whispered to himself.

But fate had something different in store.

While riding his bike through increasingly busy streets, two men on a motorcycle passed him from the opposite direction. Both wore black masks, faces completely obscured. Without warning, the passenger reached out and yanked the shoulder bag right off Roni’s body.

"Hey! Damn it!"