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Chapter 519: Woox’s Secret

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

“A soiree…” Twain picked up his glass and drank the rest of the wine. “…is like a tavern in a fantasy novel. It’s a great place to gather intelligence, meet new people, and encounter old enemies.”

“It’s also possible to meet an old friend, Mr. Twain.” A voice from behind took Twain by surprise.

He turned around suddenly and saw another familiar face looking at him with a grin.

“Mr. Billy Woox,” he said with gritted teeth. “Can I put you in the category of ‘an old enemy?\'”

Billy Woox, George Wood’s agent, laughed. “You’re funny, Mr. Twain. If we’re not friends, what else can we be?”

Twain shrugged. “Who knows.”

Woox obviously did not want to be entangled with this kind of pointless bickering. He knew that bickering with Twain was a waste of his breath. “I didn’t put Mr. Twain as someone who reads fantasy novels. Lord of The Rings or Harry Potter?”

Instead of answering the question, Twain asked Woox, “why are you here?”

“Have you forgotten, Mr. Twain? I was an agent in the entertainment and fashion industries before I became George’s agent. I’m friends with most of the people in this circle.” Woox pointed to the guests in the hall. “Of course, I count Mr. Armani as one of them.”

So, he was another friend of Armani’s. Twain smirked and whispered, “Mr. Armani really has indiscriminate taste...”

“What did you say, Mr. Twain?” Woox did not hear clearly.

“Ah, I said Mr. Armani has good teeth, and with a good set of teeth, his appetite will be good too...” Twain blurted out the first thing that came to his head. He looked at Woox standing in front of him and was reminded of something unpleasant. “You’re not here to talk to me about George’s salary again, are you?”

Woox smiled, “Do I look like such a greedy man?”

“What if I said yes?”

“Then you’re judging me by my cover, Mr. Twain.” Woox suddenly winked at Twain. The action gave Twain shivers. He felt that there was something wrong with the other man, who was fastidious about his clothes like a woman, spoke with a peculiar accent, and was a little obsessive about cleanliness.

“But there is something that I came to you for.” Woox raised his glass and pointed to the empty balcony. “Want to hear a banal story, Mr. Twain?” With that, he did not wait for Twain to agree before he turned around and walked away first.

Twain hesitated for a moment and then looked around. He found that the balcony had two wide doors through which he could easily escape if the situation was not right. So, he followed.

A little further away from the noisy hall, it was quieter in the balcony. Woox went straight to the railing to feel the breeze, and Twain tried to stand closer to the door.

Woox turned his head back to see Twain looking slightly nervous and smiled again. “Is the fearless demon still afraid that I’m going to eat him up? We’re standing so far apart. How are we doing to have a tête-à-tête?”

Twain awkwardly moved forward a few steps and the distance between the two men was finally more normal.

“Well, what banal story do you want to tell me? If it has nothing to do with me, I will turn around and go.” He spoke harshly.

“Ah, well, it has nothing to do with you. But...” When Woox saw that Twain was about to leave, he hurriedly stopped being coy and said directly, “but it’s related to George Wood.” He saw Twain turn back again, and asked with a grin, “are you interested now, Mr. Twain?”

“You know I care a lot about George.”

“Of course, your affection for him probably goes beyond the feelings between a manager and a player... I’d say it’s more like... father and son?”

Twain did not comment on Woox’s remarks.

Woox pulled a note out of his pocket and handed it to Twain.

Twain took it and went to the door to read it with the light in the hall. The edge of the note was fuzzy and looked heavily worn. The note looked old. When he unfolded the note, he discovered that it was a loan note.

It was stated on it that a certain person had borrowed 240,000 pounds from Mr. Billy Woox and promised to pay it off within ten years. Twain did not know the name of that borrower, but he was familiar with his last name, Wood. And the date was...

“1987? This happened twenty years ago?” Twain looked up at Woox in astonishment.

“The cliché simply goes like this: a certain broke man who got a girl pregnant borrowed a large sum of money from a very distant relative, promising to pay it off within ten years. But ten years later, that relative did not receive the money which was supposed to be paid back. And now that another ten years had passed...” Woox spread his hands.

Twain interrupted him, “that penniless good-for-nothing is George Wood’s father, and the very distant relative who lent the money is you, Mr. Billy Woox? You don’t look that old.”

“I keep myself well maintained.” Woox stroked his face and the action caused Twain to have the impulse to run for the door.

“But you know, Mr. Twain. I’m not a philanthropist who will take out a lot of money and give it to society for no return.” Woox removed his hand and waved in the air, “Naturally, I want to collect the money back, with interest added… 400,000.”

“Are you a loan shark?” Twain spoke through gritted teeth. Woox was also considered Wood’s relative. Even though he was not clear how they were related, surely they were still a family? Was he taking things too far by settling the accounts too clearly between relatives?

“Oh, Mr. Twain, you misunderstood me. I adjusted the amount annually according to the bank’s interest rate,” Woox said proudly. “It’s a pity that I can’t locate George’s deadbeat father or ask George’s mother, Miss Sophia, for the money — she did not even have the money for her own treatment — you can see how kind I am being. Luckily, I’d like to thank you here, Mr. Twain. If you hadn’t made George a pro player, how could he have made so much money?”

Twain really did not expect that there was such a story behind Wood. As Woox said, it was really a cliché.

“So, you planned all this by repeatedly trying to get close to George to be his agent?” It was really perplexing when Twain recalled Woox’s unusual enthusiasm for Wood at that time.

“If George was still the young stud who was a hard laborer at the moving company, who would care about him? Thanks to you, he became a star player, and as for me... Because of my years of working, I saw another potential in him. I thought that since I couldn’t find his father and his mother did not have the money, then it was acceptable for a son to repay his father’s debt. Yes, that was what I thought at the time. So, I got close to him with this idea in mind... Wait, are you going to say I’m mean next?” Woox pointed to Twain just as he was about to open his mouth.

Twain shook his head and said, “no, I wanted to harsh on you for being shameless.”

Woox shrugged. He did not care how Twain judged him. He took the loan note from Twain, and scrutinized it in the light that shone from the door. The ink on the note was a little blurry and looked like poor registration in the dim light.

The old man just looked at it wordlessly.

Twain stood on the balcony for a while. Feeling a little bored, he was about to turn to leave when he heard Woox calling him from behind, “Mr. Twain, you know, I never smoke, so... do you have a lighter on you?”

Twain pulled a Zippo out of his pocket and tossed it to Woox.

Woox took the lighter and lit the loan note on fire. Twain raised his eyebrows; he was a little surprised.

“Are you surprised, Mr. Twain?” Woox asked as he stared at the burning note in his hand.

“Do you want me to praise you for suddenly developing the conscience of a philanthropist?”

Woox smiled slyly. ” I just received a check for 2,000,000 pounds a day ago, signed by George’s deadbeat father. It’s amazing. I always thought he lost his life on the rough seas.”

When the flames burned toward Woox’s fingers, he dropped the note. The last piece of paper burnt to ashes in the night sky and was blown away by the light breeze. The brief light on the balcony disappeared.

“It seems that he is doing well,” Twain said with sarcasm in his tone. “But why did he not come back and see his precious son?”

“Would you like him to return and acknowledge his son?” Woox stared at Twain.

Twain was confused by the sudden question. He looked at Woox without answering.

“I think he was ashamed to come back. After all, he abandoned the mother and son and took off. If he thinks money can make up for his regrets...”

Twain thought Woox would say “then he must have thought wrong.”

He did not expect Woox to say, “that would be great. I hope to receive a check for 2,000,000 pounds from him every day.” This time he laughed and even showed his teeth. He looked like a vampire in the dark.

“Well, since you don’t need to George to make money to pay you back, can we have less interaction in the future?” Twain felt this was his biggest concern. George’s mysterious background, the family power behind Woox, and the adventures of George’s deadbeat father had nothing to do with him.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Twain. Even though I don’t need those 400,000 pounds anymore, you won’t mind if I fight for better living conditions for George and his poor and admirable mother, will you?”

Woox’s dignified words silenced any of Twain’s rebuttals.

“I have no objections on the condition that you don’t go crazy.” He sighed helplessly.

“Crazy?”

“For example, opening your mouth to ask for a weekly salary of more than 100,000...”

“As far as I know, Mr. Twain, you gave George a goal before he became a First Team player on the Forest team — a weekly salary of 120,000 pounds, right?”

Twain was dumbfounded. He had said this to Wood and said it more than once. It used to be just a nice goal for Wood to strive toward, like a carrot hanging in front of a donkey, to be his driving force to keep moving forward. He did not expect it to be seized upon by Woox as a reason to demand more.

“120,000... Yes, I did say that. But it also depends on the club’s financial situation. The club is not mine. If I were as rich as Abramovich, forget 120,000, I would give 200,000.” Twain put the responsibility on the club and even gave a vain promise to show his generosity.

“But the team belongs to you, and you’re in charge. Oh? Don’t tell me that’s not the case?” Woox took a step forward and considered Twain. “Doesn’t your word count on the team?”

“Of course, I’m in charge of the team, but Allan Adams is in charge of the finances. We work together to settle my funding for transfers and every season’s budget. Do you know cooperation? The Nottingham Forest Football Club places great importance on the cooperation between various departments.”

That said, Twain sometimes felt that Allan was in the way and that he would refuse to sign players that he had his eye on because the budget was inadequate, while he would use the excuse of huge market potential to push for the signing players he was not keen on. Who the hell is in charge of this team? Does Evan support him more, or does he support me a little more?

As Twain muttered to himself, Woox took his leave. He returned the lighter to Twain and waved as he walked into the hall.

Twain stopped him and said, “I’m a little confused. Why did you come to me and say all those things?”

Woox looked back at him and replied, “because I didn’t want to tell George and his mum.” Then he waved goodbye again.

Twain’s gaze followed him, and saw Shania and her agent, Mr. Fasal.

To his surprise, when Woox ran into the two, Fasal stopped and politely greeted him. Shania also stood to the side nicely, her naughty expression instantly gone.

This scene made Twain frown again. What kind of man is Woox?

The three people chatted briefly before they parted. Woox pointed to the balcony for them before he left. Twain saw Shania and Fasal walk toward him.

“It turns out you’re here, Uncle Tony.” As soon as she entered the vacant balcony, the lively Shania came back.

“Were you chatting with Mr. Woox?” asked Fasal.

Twain nodded. “I saw that you were being... well, very respectful towards him?”

Fasal smiled. “He used to be my boss, Mr. Twain.”

Twain was surprised by his answer.

“The modeling company Shania belongs to is under Mr. Woox’s name. I have been working for Mr. Woox since I became an agent in the industry. It was only later that he renounced his share in the company and went to be George Wood’s agent. And you know the rest, Mr. Twain.”

After he listened to Fasal’s brief introduction, Twain broke out in a cold sweat. Even Shania was a contracted model for the company he owned. It looked like he and the abominable old man would still be entangled for quite some time.

“Mr. Woox is a very good man, and he is polite to everyone,” Shania added. “He is a real gentleman.”

Twain glanced at her. He worried that Shania only saw the outer appearance of the old man. “I’m polite to people too. I’m also a gentleman.”

“‘Fucking son of a bitch.’ Is that something a gentleman would say, Uncle Tony?”

Twain coughed.

“Kids should not use such filthy words!” He could only bully her using his age as an excuse, but the result was conceivable. However, for the grown-up Shania, the effect was getting weaker.

“I’m seventeen years old, not a child anymore!” Shania retorted, hardly showing any weakness.

Fasal discreetly snuck away and left the empty balcony to them as they started to bicker.

“I know some models who are not even seventeen years old and have slept with god knows how many men.”

Twain turned his head and looked at Shania. Did the young girl even blush when she talked about such things? It was a pity that the night was too dark for him to see clearly.

It occurred to him that George’s poor mother, Sophia, was also seventeen when she ran off to England from Jamaica with George’s deadbeat father, got pregnant with George, and was alone wandering in a foreign land as she raised her child. She was also seventeen years old...

“Jor.” Twain suddenly called Shania by her pet name.

“Yes?” Shania, who was leaning against the railing overlooking London’s night view, turned her head and looked at Twain.

“Be sure to find a good man in the future...” Twain murmured as he looked into the distance.

Shania did not immediately answer. She just looked at Twain’s side profile and observed him quietly for a moment. Twain did not seem to know that Shania was looking at him. He was lost in his thoughts as he looked into the distance.

“Well, when I find him, I will definitely introduce him to Uncle Tony. If Uncle Tony is not satisfied with him, I will immediately tell him to take a hike!” She replied with a grin, and then skipped back to the hall.

Twain did react at first, but he soon realized what she meant.

“I’m not your father!” He turned his head and complained to Shania’s back.