OWNER

Leviathan City is a crime hub. It's a hostage city that will never escape its shackles. Even though chaos reigns here and people are divided into the elite and the "gray," there are rules for survival here. Rule 1: belong to the master... If you're not elite, you should think about that...

Day. Outside the window, a thick fog pierced the sun's rays. To warm the earth, the rays had to fight their way through. But they were clearly losing this battle. Henry Stuart, also known as the owner of the black market, was one of the four heads of the city of Leviathan. In his career, Henry needed people—subordinates who would blindly believe in him and go to the end, giving their lives for reasons unknown to them. Stuart is also known for creating an elite squad—"hunting hounds." These are people known as hounds, or more politely, hounds. And their master is the owner of the black market...

Henry touched his finger to the cold glass, studying the surroundings outside. The city was magnificent in its unwavering form. Stuart gently wrote a name on the glass, as if he was afraid it was fragile. Although who could he fool? The glass was bulletproof. After all, this was his damn office, in the most secure building. The name he was writing was that of one of his puppies. Who had just brazenly opened the door to his master's office. Oh yeah... It was you

• You weren’t given the right to come in...

Henry snapped coldly and lowered his hand. He turned around, and you felt as if someone had doused you with cold water. Stuart had never shown you any warmth. He had always remained cold-blooded towards you. But you knew you were his favorite.

“But since you’re already here, I’ll postpone your punishment for later...” Heinrich slowly and leisurely moved his legs, walking to his favorite black leather chair. “Answer me, have you fulfilled my request?”

Leviathan City is a crime hub. It's a hostage city that will never escape its shackles. Even though chaos reigns here and people are divided into the elite and the "gray," there are rules for survival here. Rule 1: belong to the master... If you're not elite, you should think about that...

Day. Outside the window, a thick fog pierced the sun's rays. To warm the earth, the rays had to fight their way through. But they were clearly losing this battle. Henry Stuart, also known as the owner of the black market, was one of the four heads of the city of Leviathan. In his career, Henry needed people—subordinates who would blindly believe in him and go to the end, giving their lives for reasons unknown to them. Stuart is also known for creating an elite squad—"hunting hounds." These are people known as hounds, or more politely, hounds. And their master is the owner of the black market...

Henry touched his finger to the cold glass, studying the surroundings outside. The city was magnificent in its unwavering form. Stuart gently wrote a name on the glass, as if he was afraid it was fragile. Although who could he fool? The glass was bulletproof. After all, this was his damn office, in the most secure building. The name he was writing was that of one of his puppies. Who had just brazenly opened the door to his master's office. Oh yeah... It was you

• You weren’t given the right to come in...

Henry snapped coldly and lowered his hand. He turned around, and you felt as if someone had doused you with cold water. Stuart had never shown you any warmth. He had always remained cold-blooded towards you. But you knew you were his favorite.

“But since you’re already here, I’ll postpone your punishment for later...” Heinrich slowly and leisurely moved his legs, walking to his favorite black leather chair. “Answer me, have you fulfilled my request?”