Chapter 346: Hungry Golden Bitch
Later that night, Nash stayed a long time in the corridor on the second floor of the villa, alone, hands in his pockets, his gaze lost on the patterns of the carpet without really seeing them.
The rest of the house was still humming a little, muffled voices coming from the bedrooms, the sound of a shower running somewhere, Kai laughing loudly at something Miko had probably just said.
How good it would feel to live here if... when everything was over. He was so close to happiness... actually, he just had to follow Aiko’s advice and cancel the mission, just make the announcement about the merger of the two teams.
It would sort out his life so much... Instead, he was here, in this dark corridor, where everything seemed suspended.
He reopened the interface in his head, slowly rereading the blue lines that still floated in front of his eyes.
Victoria’s Trust and Affection were both at 100%.
He almost felt like laughing. Not out of mockery, more that strange sensation of seeing a number confirm what he had already known deep down, without ever having really put it into words. He thought about the way she had brought her hand to her mouth earlier, that tiny little gesture to hold something back.
What did you want to say, Victoria? Maybe it would have brightened his evening a little more.
He had seen her do that exact thing once before; it was a vulnerability tic she probably hated more than anything in the world.
The fact that her stats were this high, and without him using the system for her trigger events, was both an achievement and a punishment.
Now he had to keep his word and take down his half-brother.
He let himself slide against the wall, sitting right on the floor, knees drawn up, head tilted back against the wallpaper.
Crown of a Leader III.
That was different. That didn’t smell right.
The system had never given him this kind of precision before—protect Aiko from a direct threat, prevent a forced transaction involving Saya, extract everyone without losses. It was too precise to be a simple generic warning. The system knew something. Or rather, the system was anticipating something that was going to happen no matter what, as if the path was already laid out and the only real variable was his ability to survive it cleanly.
"Why is it always in the places that reek the most that the best opportunities hide," he murmured to himself, a bitter smile barely stretching his lips.
He thought about Hector. About that guy he had only met once. A man who collected broken people the way others collected luxury watches. A guy who had made the blood sister his favorite toy of cruelty for years, and who kept going, never having to pay the price, because the world above always looked the other way on that kind of detail as long as the money flowed enough.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
What pissed him off, what genuinely disgusted him when he really thought about it, wasn’t so much Hector himself—it was the entire system that allowed guys like him to exist without ever being held accountable.
The Spires. The parlors. The girls sold like cattle behind façades of luxury and polite smiles. And the worst part was that somewhere, he knew he could have very easily become exactly that kind of guy, if the system had given him the power before he had learned to feel shame.
Maybe that was why he cared so much about this "Queen of the People" plan for Victoria. Not just for the strategy. Not just for the tactical advantage. But because at some point, someone had to prove that power could also build instead of just devouring.
He opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling.
"Alright," he said under his breath, almost sighing. "Gonna have to improvise, as usual."
He stayed sitting there another good minute, letting his mind wander over more down-to-earth details, the emergency exits of the place where Harlan was supposed to meet them, the probable plans of the rooms in the parlor, the number of guards Apex would probably station to watch over its "guests." He also thought, a little despite himself, about Rei. About the way she had blushed earlier when he had joked about being the only horrible man she would run into that night. He had said it as a joke, but something in her reaction, that blush, that panic, had given him a furious urge to dig a little deeper.
What happens to the most notorious man-hater?
He finally stood up, brushing off his pants with a distracted gesture, a slightly crooked smile floating on his lips.
"Alright," he repeated, louder this time, almost to himself. "Might as well enjoy life while waiting."
He crossed the corridor, heading for the bathroom, where a pretty pair of ass cheeks would very certainly be willing to make him forget his worries.
The next day was the big moment for Saya. The apartment where Jinzo had arranged to meet her was in a dead zone of Sector 6, a decrepit building wedged between a warehouse that had been closed for years and an alley that reeked of burnt motor oil.
Saya pulled up the collar of her jacket, discreetly adjusting the small mic slipped into the lining, just under her collarbone.
"Is it good? Can you hear me?" she murmured.
In the living room of the villa, kilometers away, Dahlia adjusted the headset over her ears, nodding toward Victoria, who was sitting across from her in front of the control screen.
"Loud and clear," Dahlia said into the linked mic. "Go easy."
Victoria, arms crossed, stared at the screen where the grainy video feed from the tiny camera hidden in the button of Saya’s jacket was rolling. Her face stayed impassive, but her fingers tapped nervously against her forearm.
Saya climbed the rusty stairs of the building, each step creaking under her weight. On the fourth floor, she knocked three times on a metal door, exactly as agreed.
The door opened onto Jinzo, a smile far too pleased with himself plastered across his face.
"Ah, there’s the queen of the evening," he said, stepping aside to let her in. "Right on time. I like that."
The apartment was practically empty—a wrecked couch, a coffee table covered in empty cans, a bare bulb that flickered intermittently, and... two people already waiting, sitting side by side on the couch.
Saya immediately recognized Harlan, his too-expensive suit clashing violently with the shabby décor. And next to him... Hell.
An elegant woman, a perfectly cut golden suit, a thin smile and a golden-colored fan that she was gently waving.
She was the most Victorian woman Saya had ever run into after Victoria, so her instincts immediately told her she was in danger.
"Y... You’re..." Saya murmured without being able to stop herself.
"Come now, why are you looking at me like I’m going to swallow you? Call me Monique, darling," Monique said with an amused smile, crossing her legs. "Sit down. We have things to discuss."
In the living room of the villa, Victoria suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowed.
"Harlan," she hissed. "He’s the contact."
"Of course it’s him," Dahlia murmured, a hand pressed over her mouth. "He’s really playing both sides right to the end."
Saya sat on the edge of a chair, heart pounding hard, trying to keep a neutral face while Jinzo settled across from her, all smiles, clearly feeling like the center of the world for the first time in far too long.
"So," Jinzo said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Madame Monique here has agreed to open the doors of the parlors for you. As planned."
"Thank you," Saya said, her voice a little shaky—a real tremor; she didn’t even need to force it.
"You understand the conditions clearly, right," Monique added, her voice dragging on every syllable with that sophisticated assurance that always seemed to float around her. "You go in, yes, but you’re not there as one of our whores. Your goal is the one who will walk with you. You go in, you observe, you guide Blaze to a specific place. Nothing more, nothing less. You do that, and I change your life forever."
"U-Understood," Saya said.
That was when Jinzo straightened up, clearing his throat, throwing a quick glance toward Harlan before bringing his attention back to Monique.
"Actually," he began, "since we’re talking about conditions... I’d have a little favor to ask myself, too."
Monique raised an eyebrow, looking deeply annoyed, as if Jinzo had just asked her for the time.
"Oh really?" she said, her voice drawling.
"Monsieur Hector promised me something," Jinzo continued, a smile stretching across his face, not even noticing Monique’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. "Aiko. The redhead, the player from your little idol team. When all this is over, she’s supposed to be mine. But—" he took the time to carefully choose his words, clearly savoring his own speech, "I was thinking, since everyone’s going to be busy tonight with the big plan, it might be the perfect moment for me to get a little head start. Like, she comes with Saya, and while Nash is getting grilled... I’ll gently grill his girl, you see what I mean? Just once, tonight. After that I’ll wait patiently for the rest."
A heavy silence settled over the shabby room.
In the living room of the villa, Victoria froze completely, her eyes wide fixed on the screen.
"What is this rat saying," she murmured.
The silence in the apartment kept stretching. Monique hadn’t even bothered to answer, her gaze barely sliding over Jinzo before returning to her fan, which she was waving faster, looking like someone politely waiting for someone else to change the subject.
Harlan, sensing the unease thickening, cleared his throat nervously.
"Listen, buddy," he said, trying to keep a light, almost paternalistic tone, "we have a much more important plan in play tonight. I think it would be wiser to—"
"No, wait," Jinzo cut in, his smile already starting to crack. "You’re not even listening to me? I said Hector promised her to me. It’s not just some whim, it’s an agreement."
"Nobody’s questioning your agreement, kid," Harlan said, still conciliatory, "I’m just saying the timing is—"
"The timing is perfect, actually!" Jinzo stood up with a jump, arms waving. "It’s exactly THIS night that it should happen, while everyone’s looking the other way! You think I haven’t noticed how that bastard Nash always finds a solution to everything? I’m not going to wait and risk it, shit! I lost everything because of him. My place, my girlfriend, my respect. And now the only victory I have left, the ONLY one, you want to take that away from me too? When we’re even here thanks to me???"
Saya, sitting stiff on her chair, watched the scene with eyes growing wider and wider, a rising disgust twisting her stomach.
She had known Jinzo as an awkward guy, pathetic in his jealousy, but she had never really measured how far that bitterness could rot. He had always seemed so harmless, almost comical in his usual smallness.
But right then, in that precise moment, she saw something else showing through under the surface—exactly the same kind of look she had seen so many times in Roam, in Vargas, in all those men who had used her without ever really seeing her as a human being.
He’s just like the others, she thought, a bitter bile rising in her throat. Exactly like the others.
"You realize what you’re asking," Harlan said, his voice losing a bit of its fake lightness, real unease starting to show. "It’s not just ’getting a head start,’ Jinzo. It’s—"
"It’s what, huh, say it," Jinzo spat, leaning forward, almost trembling with contained rage. "Go on, say it, man."
The silence fell again, tense, electric. Harlan was very annoyed; for him the problem wasn’t a question of timing, but... He also had an agreement with Nash, and if Nash found out about Jinzo’s plan... Holy shit.
It was Monique who finally broke the silence, a light little laugh escaping her lips, as if she had only just truly started listening to the conversation for the first time.
"Oh," she said, straightening slightly, a new interest suddenly lighting her gaze. "Wait. Repeat that for me."
Jinzo turned toward her, sudden hope illuminating his face.
"I was just saying that I’ve suffered a lot, you see, and Monsieur—"
"No no," Monique interrupted him, a greedy smile forming on her lips. "The idea. The core of the idea. Nash gets trapped in a room with Rei... while his precious little girlfriend gets... broken, oh no... raped, in another room... without him being able to do anything to stop it." She let out a small delighted laugh, almost childlike. "That’s delicious. Ooh, I love that."
In the living room of the villa, Dahlia brought a trembling hand to her mouth.
"She finds that—" she began, unable to finish her sentence.
"Keep recording," Victoria said coldly.
Monique stood up, slowly approaching Jinzo, slowly circling him the way she had circled Rei earlier, clearly savoring this new toy that had just fallen into her hands.
"Here’s what we’re going to do," she said, her voice turning soft, almost tender, which made it even more terrifying. "I’m going to give you what you want, but we’ll follow my rules. We’re going to set up a little scene. We’ll make your little redhead believe that it’s Nash coming to find her. The surprise in the dark, the excitement of finally seeing him give in to her... and then, at the last moment—" a cruel smile widened on her face, "it’ll be you."
Jinzo stood open-mouthed, a mix of shock, then surprise, and finally excitement crossing his face.
"You... you’d do that?" Jinzo stammered.
"Oh, I’d love that," Monique said, her eyes shining with an almost hungry gleam. "Imagine her face. That exact moment when she realizes it’s not him. That pure despair, that panic..." She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling slowly as if savoring the scent of that horror in advance. "There’s nothing more delicious than breaking a young girl, frankly. The exact moment when hope collapses. And so, given the service I’m doing you, and given that you’re taking your payment BEFORE your contract with us is officially honored... I’m not expecting simple caresses from you, Jinzo. I want you to rape her. I want you to fuck her by force until she can’t walk anymore. I want blood, tears, and a raw assault, doped if necessary, with no restraint at all."
Jinzo froze for a quarter of a second, caught off guard by the absolute crudeness of the crazy golden woman from Apex. He had expected a green light, not an order for sexual carnage commissioned from above.
But the surprise quickly gave way to a sadistic gleam in his eyes.
Monique noted his tiny hesitation, and her face drew closer, her lips stretching into a venomous smile that made a stifling pressure settle over the room.
"What’s the matter, Jinzo? Getting your conscience back now? Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little redheaded singer. I’ve been waiting for this moment with mad impatience. If you back out or if you spoil my entertainment, you’ll discover that the Massage Parlors also have cells for trash like you."
Saya felt her blood freeze completely, a real nausea rising in her throat. She was trembling, eyes wide fixed on Monique, unable to tear her gaze from this woman who had just shifted, in the space of a few seconds, from total indifference to a sick, coldly calculated excitement. It wasn’t even anger. It was worse. It was pleasure.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into, she thought, panic tightening her chest. She had seen broken men, desperate women, she had seen the ordinary cruelty of the street her whole life. But this ease, this instant slide from a worldly tone into something so black, without the slightest hesitation, without the slightest disturbance on that perfectly made-up face—that, she had never seen.
In the living room of the villa, a deathly silence reigned. Dahlia had her hand pressed against her mouth. Victoria stayed motionless, her gaze locked on the screen, a growing anger hardening every feature of her face.
And yet, somewhere under that rage, a smile slowly began to form.
"Dahlia," she said finally. "Save this part separately. The whole scene, word for word, from Jinzo’s request on."
"Ma’am?" Dahlia murmured, her voice trembling.
"Dahlia, just keep recording, everything is under control," Victoria cut in. "Nash will be there before it happens. But I want him to know exactly what kind of scum he’s dealing with." She clenched her fists, frowning. "Since he took his sweet time with Jinzo last time, this time I want to see if he changes his mind."
In the apartment, Harlan, pale, tried one last time to intervene.
"Madame," he said, his voice trembling, "with all the respect I owe you, I sincerely think this is a mistake. If Nash finds out—"
"Nash? Who’s that?" Monique cut in with indifference. "The rat won’t find out anything. Or rather, he’ll find out too late."
"But Madame," Harlan insisted, his voice rising a notch, "we said we were keeping everything under control, no fucked-up moves before the big plan, I think it’s risky to—"
"Harlan," Monique cut in, her voice suddenly colder. "Since when does a dog have the nerve to bark at me?"
Silence fell immediately. Harlan went pale, sensing he had just stepped outside his tiny authorized territory.
"I— no, Madame, of course not," he stammered. "I was just saying, out of caution, that—"
"Harlan. You were just saying nothing at all," Monique said, slowly turning toward him, her smile still hanging on her lips but her eyes suddenly much colder. "You’re starting to bore me, Harlan. It almost looks like it bothers you that Jinzo gets to have a little fun. You’re not developing feelings for these whores, are you? Reassure me."
A cold shiver ran through Saya as she watched Harlan slightly fall apart, his hands growing clammy on his knees.
"Not at all," he managed to say, his voice a little too high. "Do as you wish, Madame, it was just a remark, nothing more."
Monique stared at him a moment longer, as if checking he had properly understood the message, before turning her attention back to Jinzo with a suddenly radiant smile.
"Very well," she said, her voice instantly recovering its childlike lightness. "I appreciate the ambition, my dear Jinzo. Have fun tonight with your little redhead. Consider it a small bonus for services rendered." She paused, her smile sharpening. "And remember. I’ll be watching. I want to see her cry."
Jinzo straightened up, his face beaming with a perverse and obscene joy, like a psychopathic child who had just received exactly the toy he had been demanding for Christmas.
"She’ll cry, I swear on my life, Madame Monique," he exclaimed, fist clenched. "Even if I have to slap her around, I swear she’ll piss blood for that bastard Nash. Thank you, Madame! You have no idea how much this privilege means to me. I’m going to destroy her."
Next to him, Saya felt something break inside her, a disgust so deep that she had to stare at her own hands so she wouldn’t throw up on the spot. She threw a quick look toward Harlan, desperately searching for a sign, any sign, proving that someone in this room shared her horror.
Harlan swallowed hard, his gaze fixed, almost empty. He already knew that Nash would never accept letting this slide. That this fragile balance he had been trying to maintain for weeks had maybe just collapsed all at once, this very night.
He knew. Oh, he knew that Nash had already turned his mind, that he already owned the Baby-Boom contracts, that they were being recorded, and that this whole scheme was going to crash into a two-meter brick wall the moment he learned the conditions.
Everything was lost.
In the living room of the villa, Dahlia stopped the recording, removing her headset, her face still pale.
"It’s done," she said. "I kept everything. With this, even Monique is in our hands."
Victoria stayed silent for a long moment, arms crossed, staring at the screen now frozen on Monique’s smiling face.
"Good," she said finally, her voice perfectly calm again, almost soft. "Time to warn Nash, and to buy a golden bowl for this bitch."