Chapter 2

John playfully swatted Rickie's hand away. "Speak normally; no need to be so touchy."

That night, Rickie watched as the two couples around him flirted and expressed their affection for one another, while he sat alone, nursing his drink.

Having spent so long in Africa, he found no liquor from Z country and had no opportunity to drink red wine. However, he had certainly developed a tolerance for beer.

As the empty cans accumulated around him, he felt an overwhelming sense of longing. He thought he could almost see the person he wanted to see most, but it was also the person he feared facing the most.

"Rickie wants to live. Ahem, this is my birthday wish," came a voice, hoarse and bloody, struggling to touch his face before finally slipping away.

In the chaos of an armed conflict, a factory became the site of devastation. After an initial explosion, rescue teams rushed in, only to be met with a second blast. As panic erupted, a mob stormed inside, opening fire indiscriminately. Jared instinctively shielded Rickie with his body, the overwhelming heat wave from the explosion nearly suffocating them. Just before Rickie lost consciousness, he heard Jared's gentle, reassuring voice.

 Rickie awoke, groggy and disoriented. John, noticing his state, offered to help him back to the house. Rickie shrugged him off and forced a smile. "I helped you achieve your dreams. Why would I turn back now?"

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he smiled, then he took another swig of wine, appearing almost foolish to John. Eventually, John half-carried Rickie inside, realizing he was in no condition to stand on his own.

Clutching a can, Rickie mumbled to himself, "Alcohol is really a good thing. It brought me back to you."

The following morning, Rickie awoke with a splitting headache. Memories of the previous night flooded back, and he sighed. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. He splashed cold water on his face to refresh himself.

Fortunately, he had left a couple of suits at William's place during his earlier visits; otherwise, he would have been stuck negotiating in those shabby jeans.

"Hey, putting on a suit doesn't make you a fancy dog," Rickie teased as he stepped out, encountering John in the kitchen. John's comment about his appearance made Rickie roll his eyes.

"I don't have time for your nonsense. I need to wish my buddies good luck," Rickie replied, heading straight for the garage. He grabbed William's car and set off for the negotiation meeting.

Two hours later, after a long and tense discussion, Rickie emerged from the hotel, his suit jacket slung over his arm.

"How did it go?" John and Silas were waiting in the living room, eager for news.

"As expected, they're only willing to lower the price of the specific drugs by three percent. Our budget won't cover it. As for the generic drugs, there's really no need to buy them here in Ascot Ridge," Rickie said, sinking into the sofa with a sigh.

He turned to John and added, "I'll call the person in charge of the pharmaceutical company back in Freedonia. You can contact him directly when you return home."

Silas chimed in, "Thank you so much! When I get back, I'll make sure to apply for a certificate of merit."

Rickie chuckled. "You're a good guy, John. I'm glad you've found such a wonderful partner."

That evening, the group shared a meal together, a tradition Rickie had learned during his time with Doctors Without Borders. While the organization is known for its dedication and compassion, Rickie understood that his original motives weren't entirely noble; he sought a place to escape and find solace from a painful past.

However, after years spent in war-torn regions and areas affected by natural disasters, he had learned the true meaning of dedication. After five long years, he finally had a ticket to return to the city he once called home. Just thinking about the city brought back memories of Azriel, the man who had always wanted him to break free, who had the power to influence the world around him.

As he prepared to return, he realized how much had changed in such a bustling metropolis. When he got into a taxi, he didn't give the address of his childhood home but instead provided the name of a mid-range apartment complex he had purchased while in university. It wasn't large, but it was perfect for living alone.

Meanwhile, in Starlight Garden, an elegant man received a phone call. A look of confusion crossed his brow-part disappointment, part anticipation.

The day after I settled in, I called the number Silas had given me. Compared to the formal tone of Ascot Ridge, Torry's warm voice made me feel like I was finally home.

We arranged to meet at a farmhouse restaurant-Torry's choice. As I hung up the phone, unease settled in. Was Torry really so oblivious to the fact that I was an outsider? He called me "Rickie" without any formalities, and a casual meeting at a farmhouse felt strange-was it because he hadn't eaten in a while and wanted something comforting?

I decided to wear a black polo shirt with a jacket over it. Looking good, I thought.

After washing my car-one I had bought five years ago-I drove straight to the farmhouse, arriving fifteen minutes early to be polite.

To my surprise, as soon as I sat down, Torry walked in. The head of one of the top pharmaceutical companies in Freedonia looked younger than I had expected; he was in his early thirties, slightly overweight, but exuded warmth that immediately put me at ease. He seemed grounded, a far cry from the corporate giants I had anticipated. Yet, I knew better than to underestimate someone who had helped build a successful enterprise.

"Rickie, you came early," Torry said as he took a seat directly across from me.

"No, I just got here too," I replied.

"Have you ordered? Their chicken is delicious! I haven't been here in a while, and it's the perfect time for you to try it."

I felt a bit confused-this didn't seem like a business meeting but more like a friendly gathering.

"Well, I haven't been back to Freedonia for many years, and I do miss that chicken," I admitted.

"You mentioned your purchase plan at dusk. We're alumni; I'm two years older than you. Once you send me the list of medicines, I'll check if we have anything in common," he said, casually bridging our professional relationship.

I hadn't realized we shared such a connection. When the food arrived, Torry ordered some wine, dismissing the buyer-seller dynamic. Men's friendships often seemed simple: a pot of wine and a plate of peanuts could spark deep conversations.

As we shared the meal, Torry observed me closely. This man had drawn Azriel out of his reclusive life for nearly a decade. Was I truly the person who had captured Azriel's attention?

Curiosity bubbled within me. "So, how old are you, Rickie? Do you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?" he asked.

I was taken aback but shook my head. "Not really," I replied, unsure how to elaborate.

Torry nodded, seemingly satisfied. We continued to complement each other, and I couldn't help but laugh at Torry's teasing.

"Hey, Torry, don't fool me. I did my homework before coming here. Stark Pharmaceutical was a small business over ten years ago, and now you're in the top three in the city!"

"I have a friend who's even more powerful. Without him, Stark might have fallen during the industry shakeup ten years ago," Torry said his tone a mix of gratitude and nostalgia.

After a satisfying meal, I handed Torry the list of medicines I had prepared-thirty-two items in total. He took it, studied the list, and looked up at me.

"We have enough stock for twenty-five of these. The other seven will take about half a month to procure," he explained.

I looked at the document in front of me. If there's no inventory, it should take about half a month at best.

"We can ship it to East Africa in batches. What's Torry's price quote?" I asked, wanting to be clear about our situation.

"Yes, I genuinely want to help you," Torry replied. "To be honest, with the amount on this list, I can offer a 20% discount, but I need to discuss it with another major shareholder after this."

"According to our current budget, we need a 60% discount. Do you think that's possible? I can meet with your other shareholders," I proposed, knowing that this amount was significant and that a 60% discount would likely require unanimous consent.

"Just think of it as a favour for you. If he agrees, I won't have an issue with it. Honestly, I envy your work," Torry joked, which piqued my curiosity about his connection to Azriel.

"I'm a shareholder, but I rarely come to the company. It's not far from where he lives. Let's go directly," he added.

Instead of heading into the city, we drove out to a suburban courtyard that looked like an ancient high-walled estate. I couldn't help but admire the elegance of the place.

As we walked through the front yard, I spotted a man sitting in a rocking chair by the window, sipping tea. For a moment, I was taken aback by the familiarity of the figure.

"This is another shareholder, Azriel, and this is the MSF Rickie I mentioned," Torry introduced.

Now that I was here, there was no turning back. I gathered myself and greeted the man, keeping my tone neutral. "Hello, Azriel."

"Rickie, I have no objections. You can discuss the rest with Azriel," Torry said, glancing between us before excusing himself.

Once we were alone, Azriel motioned for me to sit in the chair beside him.

I couldn't help but smirk; I finally understood why Torry seemed so pleased-he'd orchestrated this meeting for a reason. "Azriel is quite impressive. How many enterprises in the upper city have nothing to do with you?" I remarked, my tone laced with sarcasm as I settled into the chair.

Azriel didn't take offense; instead, he calmly poured me a cup of tea. "I'm no longer just Azriel. Try this year's Dahongpao," he said, placing the cup in front of me.

I wasn't the same naive young man I had been five years ago. I picked up the cup and met his gaze. "You sought out Torry, didn't you?"

Everything suddenly clicked; his unusual behavior made sense. "You contacted him first, and I haven't checked in on the company in ages," I added.

Azriel maintained his leisurely demeanor. "True enough."

I let out a cold smile. It was hard to believe someone like him wouldn't know I was back. "Let's get down to business."

"Alright, tell me your price," Azriel replied, adjusting the blanket on his lap and clearing his throat softly.

"What's your price-didn't Torry tell you?" Rickie asked, feeling a knot tighten in his throat as he faced Azriel.

Azriel didn't seem bothered. Instead, he asked calmly, "Have you contacted an international logistics company?"

"What do you mean?" Rickie frowned, confused.

"When you go back to Freedonia to purchase, do you think that just because you've been to Ascot Ridge, the pharmaceutical companies will lower their prices due to your urgent needs? Can logistics companies do the same?" Azriel's voice was steady, but his words hit hard, exposing the tough realities of the business world.