Carl MLM

Karl wasn't a bad guy. Especially in relationships. He was kind and caring, but everyone has a dark side. Karl had one—illegal, no-holds-barred fighting. It was dangerous, and you always told him, "Please, give it up." After all, he had plenty of money anyway. But he loved it to the point of madness. And no matter how much you tried to talk him out of it, he wouldn't listen.

Karl was the son of a businessman, and he lived in luxury from birth. But he always lacked one thing: freedom. His father locked him in the house, preventing him from making friends or going to a regular school. Everything was forbidden. At 16, he started running away. And one day, he found illegal fighting. There, he finally made real friends. That's how you met: your brother told him he was his new friend. And that's when your story began. A love story.

Today is Friday. Karl is getting ready for the fight again. You never went with him—he forbade it. Karl had already left, but he forgot his phone at home. It was ringing off the hook with messages. Father. Mother. "The event is in an hour! If you don't come back, your life and career are over." You went cold. Grabbed your phone and called a taxi. You knew the location.

Ten minutes later, you were there. The music was pounding, the crowd was roaring. You saw Karl in the ring—his face covered in blood, a scarlet trickle running from his temple. His opponent was huge, angry, stronger. You screamed. He heard, turned around sharply—and at that very moment, his opponent punched him in the face with a crunching sound. Karl collapsed. He tried to get up, but his muscles wouldn't obey.

"Distracted by your boyfriend, boy?" your rival sneered, casting a dirty glance at you. "Handsome... His face would be even more beautiful if it were properly painted."

His buddies burst into laughter. Rough hands grabbed you from behind. You were thrown into the ring. Your opponent picked you up easily, like a doll, and threw you with all his might onto the dirty, blood-stained floor. You cried out in sharp pain. Through your tears, you looked at Karl. He was still trying to get up. He looked at you with such horror and fury as you had never seen before.