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"Hey, man, I know you." The guy who snapped his fingers said to Henry, stepping forward and rudely plucking the sunglasses off his face just to confirm who he was.
Being treated with such disrespect, Henry had no choice but to get a good look at who this man was.
Though he didn't know the guy's name, Henry recognized him as that same arrogant student—perhaps a grad student or a PhD candidate—who had once ambushed him with smug questions at the Caltech library lounge.
Back then, they had no real ties. Henry had happily thrown the guy's arrogance back in his face.
But now, fate had brought them together again—this time at a party where Henry was working. And as an employee, he couldn't act out against an invited guest. He still had that much professional discipline.
So, he feigned ignorance and said with a polite tone, "Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
With women on both arms, Justin Hammer continued snapping his fingers in Henry's face, now using his free hand to wave for more attention. "Hey, don't pretend you don't know me. I remember you—very clearly, in fact.
"Weren't you the guy who claimed you could solve any problem at a glance? Real genius, huh? So how come you're standing here in a monkey suit now? Ohhh—I get it. You're broke, right? What other reason could there be?"
Damn, Henry thought to himself. This guy's really proud of holding a grudge? Why else would he emphasize how clearly he remembers?
Henry kept the internal monologue to himself and tried to shift his gaze elsewhere—anywhere but at this smug rich kid. He didn't trust his fists not to act on their own.
Just then, a pudgy guy in a sports jacket and a sideways baseball cap noticed the situation. Ditching the woman at his side, he sauntered over. "Hey, Justin, what's going on here?"
"Oh, I just spotted someone I know. You know this guy's a genius? Claims he can solve anything with just a look."
"Really?" the pudgy guy said, turning to Henry. "Hey, bro, why are you doing a job then? Come work for me. I'll give you $100,000 a year. Perform well and there's room for more."
Justin shoved the guy's shoulder with a scowl. "Hey, what the hell? You know this guy humiliated me, right? And now you're offering him a job?"
"Well," the pudgy guy shrugged, "a hundred-K salary is kind of a humiliation. So you could say I'm just returning the favor."
"Are you f***ing serious?" Justin growled.
I was about to ask the same thing, Henry thought. Their anger may have had different targets, but the disbelief was mutual.
But the pudgy guy was clearly someone of influence. He understood the value of people, or at least knew when to pick sides. From the beginning, his loyalties were clearly with Justin.
Without hesitation, he pulled out a 1990-era Nokia Cityman 190—a sleek, high-end mobile phone by the standards of the "brick phone" era.
And then he casually hurled it over his shoulder into the swimming pool.
Putting on an exaggerated expression of shock, he said, "Oh no! Look what happened! My phone fell in the pool. Sir, would you mind fishing that out for me? That's an electronic device, you know. Water'll ruin it. Maybe if you hurry, it can still be saved."
Henry very much wanted to put his fist through the guy's fat smug face. But unfortunately, he remembered something from his job briefing: retrieving items accidentally dropped into the pool was part of his duties.
The manager had added, of course, that most guests wouldn't be so careless—and that usually it was just playful accidents between guests, and they'd fetch their own stuff.
But, just in case, the bodyguards were expected to help—especially if someone was struggling or drowning.
Now, what's the protocol when someone intentionally abuses that clause? Henry mentally screamed: Any HR reps online right now? Urgent!
Not moving immediately, Henry simply stood still, staring at the smug brat who seemed to be the party host.
Dressed more like a bootlegger than a real rich kid, the pudgy guy turned menacing and barked, "What are you looking at? Go fetch it! If it's broken, you'll pay. Or do I need to say the magic word? Please! Is that good enough for you?"
The suit Henry was wearing was rented. If soaked, the cleaning fees would be steep—maybe even full replacement. Jumping into the pool was not a decision to make lightly.
But in the end, Henry complied. Without a word of protest, he brushed past them and walked to the poolside.
And then—with the elegance of a stiff plank—he stepped forward and dropped into the water.
The pool wasn't deep. Standing up, the water came up to about his waist. Perfect for swimming—not so much for diving.
No need for any fancy moves. Henry simply walked over to where the phone had sunk and bent over, submerging just his upper body to grab the luxury Nokia from the bottom.
His entire suit was now drenched. So was his head. He was only able to pinpoint the phone's location thanks to his superhuman senses—otherwise he would've had to dive around blindly.
On the poolside, the pudgy guy laughed uproariously. "See? Wouldn't it have been easier to just do that from the start?"
Pleased to see the man he was trying to impress smiling smugly, the pudgy man added, "Justin, if you want to really get back at this guy, I've got a suggestion. Ship him to the island."
"What island?" Justin raised a brow. "You mean that Orgy Island? I dunno, this big guy doesn't really seem like the type."
"Hey, the island's got more than just parties. But you know, I can't really talk details in public."
They thought they were speaking quietly, but Henry caught every word crystal clear. His attention had been focused on them the whole time—super hearing made it impossible to miss.
So when Henry retrieved the phone and stood up in the pool, he didn't head for the ladder.
Instead, he raised the phone, waved it at the pudgy guy...
...and chucked it over the fence.
"Oh no," Henry said with a dramatic wince, "I slipped."
Arms out in mock helplessness, he wore the world's most punchable expression.
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