The headquarters of Roux Soeurs was less of an office and more of a temple dedicated to the art of beauty. After splitting from Nari, who went to handle the formidable Annelise Roux, I was led down a stark white hallway to a door that hummed with a strange, creative energy. I stepped inside, and the world shifted.
The office was a beautiful, chaotic masterpiece. It felt less like a corporate space and more like the private studio of a mad, brilliant artist. Bolts of shimmering, exotic fabrics were draped over minimalist furniture, sketches of breathtaking designs were pinned to the walls in a seemingly random but aesthetically perfect pattern, and the air was a heady, intoxicating perfume of rare flowers and the sharp, clean scent of chemical creation.
And in the center of it all, a goddess on her throne, was Julia Roux.
She was a vision, a living, breathing work of art that made my carefully constructed composure threaten to crack. Her platinum blonde hair was a cascade of long, soft waves and curls that seemed to catch the light and hold it hostage. Her almond-shaped hazel eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, held a look of profound, almost soul-deep boredom. Her skin was a flawless canvas of pale, creamy perfection, and her glossy, plump lips were shaped into a perfect cupid's bow. She wore a sparkly pink halter crop top made of rhinestones, its draped cowl neckline hinting at the perfect curves beneath, held up by thin chain straps. A delicate, butterfly-shaped belly ring glinted above a pair of ridiculously short, low-rise distressed denim shorts with frayed hems. She was a symphony of sensual, rebellious beauty, and the moment she looked at me, I felt a familiar, primal jolt go through me.
"Good morning, Mr. Wilson," she said, her voice a low, husky purr that was both a greeting and a dismissal. "It's a real pleasure that you came to visit. How may I help a newly arising person like yourself?"
As she spoke, my [Advanced Appraisal] skill was already working, a silent, constant stream of data flowing into my mind.
Status:
Name: Julia Roux
Strength: 94
Agility: 102
Endurance: 80
Mentality: 200
Intelligence: 250
Mana: 0
Potential: SS+
Skills: [Alchemical Aesthetics], [Ephemeral Artistry], [Intuitive Perception]
Passive Skills: [Aesthete's Ennui], [Flawless Visage], [Siren's Grace], [The Gilded Idol], [Chromatic Palate]
Superpower: [None]
Soul Ledger: [None]
I sat down in the chair opposite her, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in my head with a cold, sharp clarity. So, that's it, I thought, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across my face as I analyzed her passive skills. [Aesthete's Ennui]. [The Gilded Idol]. [Chromatic Palate]. Her perfection is her prison. The world is a dull, grey, tasteless thing to her because she has already mastered its most beautiful elements. She's not a businesswoman; she's a starved artist, desperate for a new color, a new sensation.
"Mr. Wilson is quite handsome," she continued, her voice still a bored, musical hum as she looked me up and down. "And stunning, for a man who can't be more than twenty. I am really curious to know why you visited."
It was time to play my first hand. I leaned forward, my expression all business. "Miss Roux," I began, my voice a smooth, professional sound. "I'm building a new brand, 'Allure,' under the guidance of Christine Holmes as our PR Director. We'd like to have a cooperation between Roux Soeurs and Allure, a successful partnership."
I watched her as I spoke. The moment I mentioned the word 'partnership,' the flicker of professional interest in her eyes died, replaced by that familiar, profound boredom. It was exactly what I had expected. A normal approach was not just failing; it was actively pushing her away.
She needs chaos, my own internal voice whispered, a cold, calculating echo of my new skills. She needs a thrill. Then let me give it to her.
I stood up from my seat, my movements slow and deliberate. She watched me, a flicker of genuine curiosity finally breaking through her bored composure. I walked towards her, my steps silent on the plush carpet. I didn't stop until I was standing right in front of her, my presence a sudden, jarring intrusion into her sterile, perfect world.
She was unfazed, still looking at me with that same, detached boredom.
I didn't say a word. I just reached out, my hand closing around her delicate wrist, and pulled her to her feet. She let out a small, sharp gasp, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and a dawning, thrilling anticipation.
And then I kissed her.
It wasn't a gentle, romantic kiss. It was a tsunami. It was a raw, possessive, all-consuming kiss that was meant to shatter her perfect, gilded cage. Her lips were soft, yielding under mine, and for a split second, she was frozen, her mind completely short-circuited. Then, something in her broke. She didn't just kiss me back; she devoured me, her body pressing against mine, a silent, desperate answer to a question she hadn't even known she was asking.
When I finally pulled back, we were both breathless. She stared at me, her face flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes blazing with a mixture of outrage and a raw, undeniable desire.
I grabbed her by the waist, my grip firm, possessive. "Do you want to feel a thrill?" I asked, my voice a low, dangerous growl. "Do you want to feel alive? Do you want to taste a passion that will make you an addict? Do you want chaos?"
She just stared at me, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, her mind reeling.
"You don't need ambition," I continued, my voice a low, hypnotic hum. "You don't need wealth or revenge. What you need is a thrill. Excitement. And I promise you, you will never, ever be bored again. Because my life… it's very chaotic." I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm in a relationship with a pair of a mother and a daughter. I have a very intimate relationship with my stepsister. I have feelings for my mom, my aunt. I have even seduced another person's woman. If that's not enough of a thrill for you, then how about this? I've killed four people with my own hands in less than a week. And many other events. So, join me, and your life will be a symphony of chaos, thrill, suspense, and a passion you never knew."
My words stunned her. She just stood there, her mind struggling to process the sheer, breathtaking audacity of it all. After a long, silent moment, a slow, dangerous smile spread across her own beautiful face. "I really like the idea," she said, her voice a low, husky purr. "If what you say is true… if you fulfill your promise… I will definitely support you."
I leaned in and kissed her again, this time more aggressively, my hands kneading her ass. She surrendered completely, her body melting against mine. When we pulled apart, I whispered, "Julia, you're quite erotic in that outfit. Why not join me tonight at my hotel? And let me show you a place, a feeling, you never knew."
This was what she truly needed. She just nodded, a playful, wicked light in her eyes. "I'm really excited now," she said.
And with that, I had secured another powerful, and very dangerous, queen for my new kingdom.
Afterward, we went to meet her sister. Nari was already there, a look of cool, triumphant satisfaction on her face. Annelise stood as we entered, a new, profound respect in her sharp, hazel eyes.
"Mr. Wilson, Miss Han," she said, her voice a smooth, formal acknowledgment of our new partnership. "We hope for a happy cooperation."
Julia walked over to stand beside her sister, a new, vibrant energy radiating from her. "I am really excited to see who we're going to be working with," she said, her gaze lingering on me for a second longer than necessary.
"I promise," I said, my own voice a calm, confident declaration, "what we promised both of you, we will fulfill on our side. Definitely."
"When are both of you coming to Grand Metropolis?" Nari asked.
"For this week, we're a little busy," Annelise replied.
"We will meet you both next week," Julia added, a secret, promising smile on her lips that was just for me.
And with that, our meeting was successful.
We were back in the car, the four of us, the city of Verrine a blur of beautiful, harmonious architecture outside the tinted windows.
"Miss Nari is a force of nature," Allison said, her voice a quiet, reverent whisper.
"Miss Nari, I learned so much," Bella added, her own voice full of a new, hard-won respect.
Nari just gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Miss Allison, you played a major role in the deal."
Allison blushed. "I didn't do something that big."
"You helped Nari to secure a new cooperation," I said, my own voice full of a genuine, proud warmth.
Nari looked at the two of them, her expression unreadable. "I think both of you are ready for your test," she said.
"Your test," I added, my own voice turning serious, the easygoing leader replaced by the cold, calculating king, "will be to get the cooperation of Sabrina Renner."
The words struck them like lightning. I could see the fear, the doubt, the sheer, overwhelming weight of the task settling on their shoulders. But I could also see something else. A flicker of a new, dangerous fire. They had seen what was possible. And now, it was their turn to prove they were worthy of it.
The town of Oakhaven was a forgotten period at the end of a long, rambling sentence. It was a place of peeling paint, rust-stained storefronts, and a quiet, stubborn resilience. The bar we found ourselves in, a place called 'The Rusty Mug,' was its beating heart. The air inside was thick with the smell of stale beer, fried onions, and a deep, ingrained weariness.
From a secluded booth in the back, I watched them. Allison and Bella. They were a world away from the opulent hotel suites and private jets they were starting to get used to. They looked nervous, their city clothes a stark contrast to the worn denim and flannel of the bar's other patrons.
And then I saw her.
She moved through the tables with an efficiency that was devoid of all grace, a tray of beers balanced perfectly in her hand. But even in the stained apron and the cheap, polyester uniform, she was unmistakable. Sabrina Renner was a queen in exile. Her jet-black hair was pulled back in a tight, severe bun, but a few rebellious strands framed a face of sharp, aristocratic angles and a stubborn, unyielding pride. Her brown eyes, the color of rich, dark earth, held no light, no warmth. They were the cold, hard eyes of a woman who had seen the worst of the world and had decided she was done with it. Her body, even under the unflattering uniform, was a testament to the discipline of her former life—long legs, a straight back, the poised, perfect posture of a runway model. She was a broken statue, still beautiful, but with all the life chipped away.
Bella, taking a deep breath, walked up to the bar where Sabrina was cleaning glasses. "Excuse me," Bella began, her voice a little too loud, a little too confident for this quiet, weary place. "Sabrina Renner? We have a proposal for you. We're from a new company, Allure. We're prepared to offer you a very generous contract to be our lead model."
Sabrina didn't even look up. She just continued to wipe down the glass in her hand, her movements slow and deliberate. "Not interested," she said, her voice a low, rough sound that held no trace of her former elegance.
"But... we can offer you millions," Bella pressed, her trader's intuition telling her to up the ante. "A chance to get back everything you lost."
Sabrina finally stopped. She set the glass down with a soft click and slowly raised her head. She looked at Bella, and her brown eyes were not just cold; they were dead. "You think you can buy me?" she asked, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. "You think you can dangle a few million Funos in front of me and I'll come crawling back to the same cesspool that chewed me up and spat me out? You people from the industry are all the same. Vultures. You see a piece of carrion, and you can't help but circle." She picked up a dirty rag and threw it on the counter. "Get out of my bar."
Bella was stunned into silence, her usual confident swagger completely gone. She stumbled back to our booth, her face pale. "She's... she's a wall," she whispered, her voice a mixture of awe and frustration. "I couldn't even get through."
I took a slow sip of my water, my gaze never leaving Sabrina. I leaned forward, my voice a low, quiet hum that was just for Allison. "Okay, Allie. Your turn."
"But... but what do I say?" she asked, her own voice trembling.
"Forget the contract," I whispered, my skills—[Chanakya], [Napoleon]—a silent, guiding force. "Forget the money. She's not a businesswoman; she's a wounded soldier. Don't talk to her like a recruiter. Talk to her like a fellow survivor. Speak to the wound, not the wallet. Tell her your story."
Allison looked at me, her eyes wide with fear. But then, something shifted. She took a deep breath, a new, fragile resolve settling over her. She stood up and walked towards the bar.
Sabrina saw her coming and her expression hardened, her hand already reaching for the rag again. "I said—"
"My parents were killed," Allison said, her voice a soft, quiet thing that was almost lost in the noise of the bar. But it was so full of a raw, genuine pain that it cut through everything else. Sabrina froze.
"They were killed by people like the ones who hurt you," Allison continued, her voice gaining a fragile strength. "People from the city who thought they could just take whatever they wanted. I was alone. I was scared. I had nothing." She looked up, and her blue-gray eyes, full of a profound, heartbreaking sadness, met Sabrina's cold, dead ones. "And then someone gave me a chance. Someone who had been broken, too. Someone who decided that instead of just surviving, he was going to fight back. He didn't offer me a job. He offered me a home. He offered me a family."
Sabrina just stared at her, her own carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble. For the first time, she was seeing not a recruiter, but a reflection of her own pain, her own loss.
"We're not here to offer you a contract, Miss Renner," Allison whispered, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "We're here to offer you a war. A chance to get justice. Not just for you, but for all of us. For everyone who has ever been broken by this world."
The silence in the bar was absolute. Sabrina just stood there, her face a mask of a dozen conflicting emotions. The ice in her eyes was beginning to melt, revealing the raw, burning anger that had been buried for so long.
That was my cue. I stood up and walked towards them, my presence a calm, steady anchor in the storm of their shared pain. I stopped beside Allison, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. I looked Sabrina straight in the eye.
"We're not offering you a comeback, Miss Renner," I said, my voice a low, dangerous promise. "We're offering you a war. And we have a feeling you've been waiting for one."
She looked from Allison's tear-streaked, hopeful face to my own determined one. The deadness in her brown eyes was gone, replaced by a new, dangerous fire.
A slow, vicious, and absolutely beautiful smile spread across her face. "When do we start?" she asked.