Absolute Loser Becomes The Pleasure King Using Satan System

Chapter 101: 101.For Vengeance-1

The rough brick wall scraped against Mylo’s back as he gently pushed Carey’s hand away from his mouth.

"Carey, what are you doing here?" Mylo asked, frowning in genuine confusion. "Weren’t we supposed to meet behind warehouse eleven at the docks?"

Carey adjusted his flat cap, his sharp golden eyes sweeping across the empty alleyway before settling back on Mylo.

"The docks was a decoy," Carey said quietly. "Did you really think I’d walk straight into an open area without checking first? Tell me, how many of your boys did you leave waiting there?"

Mylo blinked. "My boys? What are you talking about?"

Carey smirked, letting out a low chuckle. "Come on, kid. The men from your organization. Your people."

Organization? People?

Mylo stared at him in utter disbelief.

Does he seriously think I have some kind of secret backup? I’m just an eighteen-year-old freshman whose only ’backup’ is an angry tribal girl who likes eating raw meat and a crazy system that gives me life-threatening quests!

"Carey, listen to me," Mylo sighed, keeping his tone calm and earnest. "I don’t have any men. There is no organization backing me up. I really am just on my own here."

Carey simply looked at him, his knowing smile never fading. "Right. Keep playing it off. Clean operational security. I can respect that."

He didn’t believe a single word I just said.

"I’m being completely honest with you," Mylo muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sure you are," Carey replied smoothly, giving him a small pat on the shoulder. "Now move. We shouldn’t linger in one spot for too long."

"Where are we heading?" Mylo asked, checking his watch. It was already 8:45 AM.

"Somewhere public," Carey answered, leading the way out toward the street. "We’ll blend in, grab a bite, and talk without drawing any attention."

Well, at least he knows how to be cautious, Mylo thought, shaking his head with a faint smile as he followed behind. Still, thinking I work for some secret agency is a bit too much.

They walked past the morning crowds until Carey stopped in front of a pleasant cafe with wide glass windows. A wooden sign hung neatly above the entrance: Hunger Killer.

"Let’s go inside," Carey muttered, pushing the door open. "Just act natural."

"I’m always natural," Mylo murmured under his breath.

A soft chime rang as the door swung open, welcoming them with the rich scent of freshly ground coffee and warm baked pastries.

Carey immediately began walking toward a quiet booth in the back corner, but Mylo’s steps came to an abrupt halt right near the entrance.

His eyes widened in utter surprise.

Standing behind the service counter in a neat black apron, busy wiping down the espresso machine, was a very familiar girl with sharp, stylish features.

Wait... isn’t that...

Mylo paused, staring at her in complete shock.

...Brandy?!

Brandy stopped wiping down the chrome surface of the espresso machine and looked up, her sharp eyes immediately narrowing as she spotted them.

"What the hell are you staring at, Mylo?" she asked, crossing her arms over her black apron.

"Brandy?" Mylo stepped up to the wooden counter, genuinely surprised. "You work here? Since when do you have a part-time job?"

She gave him a flat, unimpressed look. "Since bills exist, genius. And why do you even care? Did I sign a paper saying I need to report my schedule to you?"

"No, but we were literally hanging out yesterday evening," Mylo pointed out with a wry chuckle, scratching his cheek. "You complained about being swamped with design projects, but skipped mentioning you pull morning shifts at a cafe."

"Because it’s none of your business," she scoffed, tossing her towel beside the grinder. "I don’t broadcast my life to every guy who hangs around Reina. Besides, if Mac finds out about this place, he’ll camp outside the window like a stray dog every single morning."

"Fair point," Mylo admitted with a quiet nod. "Nobody deserves that."

Brandy’s eyes then flicked past Mylo’s shoulder, sizing up Carey with casual suspicion. "And who’s your friend?"

Carey dipped his head slightly, giving her a calm, polite nod from beneath the brim of his flat cap. "Morning, miss. Just passing through."

"This is Carey," Mylo introduced smoothly. "A friend from out of town."

"Right. A friend," Brandy muttered, already turning toward the register. "Are you two actually ordering, or just taking up space?"

"Two black coffees and two croissants, please," Mylo said.

"Fine. Pay up and grab a seat. I’ll bring it over when it’s ready," she muttered, punching the keys on the register.

Mylo handed over the cash, and Carey quietly guided him past the counter toward the back.

The cafe was warm and comfortable, morning sunlight slanting through the large glass panels over clean wooden floors. With only a few quiet patrons scattered near the front, the rear section remained empty and private.

As they made their way to the farthest booth, Carey leaned slightly toward Mylo, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"What about her?" Carey murmured in a low, teasing whisper. "Is she one of yours too? An undercover operative running a reconnaissance outpost disguised as a barista?"

Mylo nearly tripped over his own feet, shooting him a deadpan look. "She makes coffee and takes design classes. She has absolutely nothing to do with any of this."

"Right, right. Deep-cover support staff. Very convincing," Carey chuckled softly, clearly amused by the idea.

They reached the corner table. Carey slid into the booth, his back firmly against the wall so his golden eyes had a direct, clean view of the entire room and the exit.

Mylo took the seat across from him. The moment they sat down, the playful smirk faded from Carey’s bronze face, replaced by his usual focused, dangerous calm.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms flat on the polished wood.

"Alright," Carey said, his deep voice dropping into a clean whisper. "Let’s talk about Elisae Hotel."

"Hold your horses for a second," Mylo muttered, raising a hand to slow him down. "Before we jump straight into raiding hotels, there are a lot of things we actually need to clear up first."

Click.

The sound was tiny, muffled by the heavy booth upholstery, but to Mylo’s ears it rang like a hammer on an anvil.

Underneath the low brim of his cap, Carey’s golden eyes had turned into ice. The relaxed warmth on his face had completely vanished, replaced by the same lethal, emotionless mask he wore when he carved through men in the warehouse.

Carey reached into his jacket with his right hand, slipping the dark steel of a handgun out and bringing it down beneath the table in one smooth, practiced motion.

Mylo didn’t need to look down to know what was happening. Beneath the polished wood, the cold muzzle of the barrel was pressed flush against the fabric of his jeans, aimed dead-center at his gut.

Carey leaned an inch closer, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm whisper.

"The pleasantries are over, Zane. Before I put my life on your board, I need to know whose game I’m actually playing. You talk, you tell me the absolute truth, or the only thing leaving this booth is your corpse wrapped in a tablecloth."

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