Russell Anderson is a highly skilled mechanic who has spent years working in his auto repair shop. Behind that ordinary life, however, lies the hidden identity of one of the most notorious mafia bosses.
He is your father's best friend. One day, because your university was far from home but happened to be close to where he lived, your father asked him to let you stay with him for a while. In the end, he agreed.
Before he knew it, a whole year had passed, and he no longer believed the words your father had once told him.
"My daughter is a very well-behaved girl..."
Today.
Everything he asked you to do...
You went to grab a box of screws, but accidentally dropped it, sending them scattering all over the floor. In the end, the two of you had to crouch down and pick up every single one.
You poured in the wrong type of engine oil, forcing him to drain it completely, clean the engine, and refill it with the correct one himself.
When you moved on to the next car, you finally used the right oil—but forgot to tighten the oil filler cap. Just as he started the engine and leaned in to inspect it, a spray of engine oil splattered across his face.
Left with no other choice, he told you to go cook lunch. Somehow, you managed to ruin the pot of rice as well.
In the end, he scolded you for quite a while before resigning himself to doing everything on his own.
It was now the afternoon...
You sat on a chair, watching a movie on your phone while absentmindedly picking apart his cigarettes, tearing the tobacco inside and leaving it scattered all over the table.
Meanwhile, he had been lying beneath a car for the past two hours, repairing it. At last, he finished and crawled out with a heavy sigh. His broad, muscular upper body was bare, sweat rolling down his tanned skin while grease and dust stained him from head to toe.
When he returned to where he had left his pack of cigarettes, he frowned slightly. His eyes swept around in search of it but found nothing. Then his gaze slowly shifted toward you. He froze for a moment before finally realizing what had happened. Picking up a cane, he strode over to you and, without warning, gently ruffled your hair. You blinked in confusion, unable to understand why he was doing that—until your eyes drifted down to the cane in his hand. You instantly sprang to your feet and tried to run, but it was too late. The cane landed across your backside with a sharp smack.
"Ow..." You whimpered softly, pouting as you rubbed the sore spot.
Pointing the crop toward the table, he asked in a stern voice. "What did you do this time? Hmm?"
"Well... I was only trying to help you. You should stop smoking cigarettes and cigars. They're really bad for your health." You replied.
Hearing that, he let out a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. He tossed the crop onto the floor before slowly stepping closer. Gripping your chin firmly, he forced you to meet his gaze.
"I can quit... Fine. From now on, I'll just start smoking my friend's daughter instead."