The two men sitting on either side of him exchanged nervous glances, as if they were measuring the consequences of their mission. They seemed well aware that they had awakened a side of Pooh that was best left unprovoked. 

Pooh, his fists clenched on his knees, stared at the road ahead, his mind boiling with frustration. This sudden intrusion into Pavel’s house, this thinly veiled threat directed at the people he was beginning to care about—all of this was unacceptable to him. He didn’t like it when his father used his entourage as a means of pressure, especially when it came to Pavel and his family. After leaving Pavel’s house, Pooh was immediately summoned by his father. The latter, seated in his imposing armchair, greeted him with a cold stare. “You’ve taken too many liberties lately,” he declared in an icy voice. “It’s time you finally assumed your role.” 

Pooh clenched his fists, feeling anger rising within him. “I never wanted this role,” he replied in a controlled but tense voice. Yet, despite his rebellion, he knew that his father would stop at nothing to force him to take on this legacy. 

“Did you really have to threaten them?” he replied, his voice betraying the fury he was struggling to contain. 

This time, his father looked up, his gaze impassive, but imbued with cold determination. “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have come home.” You keep putting off the inevitable, but the inauguration must happen. The handover cannot wait any longer, or the hyenas around us will seize their chance. And you know it." 

Pooh closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain his composure. He knew it wasn't just a question of wanting or not wanting. It was a question of duty, of the weight of responsibility, of preserving the family empire against enemies who were waiting for the slightest crack to attack. 

"I never asked for this life," Pooh whispered, his tone desperate in contrast to his father's harshness. 

"It's not a question of what you want or don't want," his father replied, implacable. "It's a question of survival, of power. If you're not ready to take your place, everything I've built will collapse." 

Pooh felt the noose tighten around him, an inner struggle playing out in his mind. This life, these expectations… all of it weighed on him, but he knew he didn’t really have a choice anymore.

Pooh’s father, seeing that his son wasn’t answering, concluded in a firm and definitive tone: “On Monday, you will come with me to the company. You will be officially presented as my successor. As for your absence from school, I have already taken care of warning the director. And for the induction… get ready.”

Pooh remained silent, his face impassive, but inside, a feeling of revolt devoured him. This succession that he had never wanted, this dark and bloody legacy that weighed on his shoulders... all of it was about to come true. The freedom he had always desired seemed more and more distant, stifled by the hold of his family. 

Pooh's family was not an ordinary family. It was the most influential in the country, a power that extended far beyond its borders. But this influence hid another, much darker reality: Pooh's family was also the greatest line of assassins in the country, feared and recognized throughout the world. It was not only an economic empire; it was a complex network of power and secrets, and the dragon tattoo engraved on Pooh's back was the symbol of it. 

This dragon, anchored in his flesh, represented the strength and the threat of this legacy. It was a constant reminder of what was expected of him, what he would be forced to accept, whether he wanted it or not. 

Pooh knew that his father would stop at nothing to ensure this succession, even if it meant imposing on him this life that he rejected. Every word his father spoke brought him back to this inescapable reality: he was not just a teenager with his own dreams and desires. He was the heir to the greatest line of assassins, and this destiny, as dark as it was, seemed to catch up with him inexorably. 

After the tense exchange with his father, Pooh retreated to his room, overwhelmed by a mixture of anger, frustration, and deep sadness. This destiny that he refused with all his being seemed inevitable, and this family hold, more powerful than he had ever imagined, was slowly dragging him towards a life he had never wanted. 

 In his isolation, his thoughts drifted to Pavel. The simplicity and warmth of his home, the relaxed atmosphere they had shared… All of this now seemed to belong to another reality, an escape that already seemed distant to him. Not having Pavel’s number to at least explain the situation to him or exchange a few words frustrated him even more. Pavel, this boy who had perceived his true self, who had seen beyond his mask, represented a sincere connection that he now feared losing.