Absolute Loser Becomes The Pleasure King Using Satan System

Chapter 104: 104.For Vengeance-4

Mylo cracked the spine open, instantly greeted by an explosion of hand-drawn sparkles, floating flower petals, and speech bubbles the size of dinner plates.

On page three, the silver-haired heroine was dramatically collapsing onto the polished marble of an imperial ballroom. A giant block of text laid out her inner monologue: "Alas! Cast out by my wicked stepsisters for salting the royal soup, I have nowhere left to turn!"

Before she could hit the marble, a towering duchess clad in a gown made entirely of black lace and peacock feathers caught her by the waist. The duchess’s face was drawn with razor-sharp cheekbones, radiating an aura of pure, intoxicating matriarchal menace.

"Such pristine poise... such delicate ankles!" the duchess gasped, a background panel literally shattering from her revelation. "You shall marry my son, the Bloodthirsty Tyrant Duke of the North, and bear his heirs!"

Mylo pinched the bridge of his nose, stifling a breathless snort.

She wasn’t lying about the mother being drawn well, Mylo thought, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. The villain hasn’t even shown up yet, and his mom is already scouting brides based on ankle structure? What kind of logic is this?

He flipped to the next Chapter. The dashing older brother entered the frame, casually slicing a falling candelabra in half with an unbothered smirk, perfectly fitting Reina’s enthusiastic description. The pacing was completely unhinged, the melodrama dialed to an absolute eleven, yet the panels flowed with strange, addictive precision.

Mylo found himself turning page after page, a genuine grin spreading across his face. He could practically hear Reina’s frantic squeaks and see her glasses sliding down her nose as she explained every plot twist.

She’s going to lose her mind when she finds out I actually enjoyed this trash, he chuckled warmly, flipping to Chapter three.

"Hey, Romeo. Stop drooling over fictional cartoons and get moving."

A sharp snap of fingers broke Mylo’s concentration.

He looked up to see Brandy standing over the booth, her black apron gone. She was dressed in an oversized white graphic tee half-tucked into her distressed denim shorts, a leather jacket slung casually over one shoulder, and a bulky black portfolio case gripped in her right hand. Her hair was pulled back into a messy, stylish high ponytail that accentuated her long, slender neck.

"Already done?" Mylo asked, slipping the manga smoothly back into his coat pocket.

"Unlike some people who sit around reading trashy romance, my shift actually ends on time," she scoffed, shoving the heavy portfolio case into his chest. "Hold this. You promised."

"Didn’t know five sketches weighed as much as a cinder block," Mylo teased, easily taking the case in one hand.

"That’s heavy-grade drafting cardstock, you philistine," she shot back as they pushed through the glass doors into the morning sun.

The walk toward the campus district was crisp and bright. As they fell into step along the sun-dappled sidewalk, Mylo couldn’t help but glance sideways.

The low-cut neck of her loose shirt shifted with every brisk step she took, giving him an unobstructed, dizzying view of her smooth collarbones and the deep, shadowy cleavage dipping beneath the fabric. The short denim hem hugged the tight, round curve of her hips, her long, toned legs flexing rhythmically against the sunlight.

A hot jolt of primal heat surged straight to Mylo’s groin, making his throat constrict.

Damn it... the Sin is flaring again. He swallowed hard, feeling his eyes trace the delicate curve of her waist. She’s way too well-built for a girl who lives on black coffee and takeout...

"Mylo."

Her voice was dangerously flat.

Mylo blinked, snapping his gaze upward.

Brandy had stopped in her tracks, arms crossed over her chest, one shapely eyebrow cocked with pure, unadulterated judgment. Her cheeks carried a faint, annoyed tint of pink.

"Are you done mentally stripping me on the sidewalk, or do I need to break that arm you’re carrying my art with?" she snapped, clicking her tongue.

"I was just admiring the... drafting portfolio," Mylo lied smoothly, clearing his throat and forcing a totally innocent expression. "It really brings out your aggressive charm."

"Pervert," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she started walking again, though she tugged her collar a fraction higher. "Keep your eyes on the road before you trip over a curb and ruin my assignments."

"Fair enough," Mylo chuckled, falling back into pace beside her. "So, what’s actually in here anyway? You seemed pretty defensive about it."

Brandy fell silent for a few strides, kicking a loose pebble along the asphalt. Her usual biting edge softened just a fraction.

"Runway prototypes. Conceptual evening wear," she admitted quietly, looking ahead. "Everyone in the design department wants to just sit backstage with scissors and sketchbooks, but that’s boring. I want to build the pieces, style the lines, and then walk them out onto the stage myself."

Mylo looked at her, genuinely surprised. "A designer and a model at the same time?"

"Why the hell not?" She shot him a defiant, self-assured smirk. "Why design something stunning just to watch some stiff, lifeless mannequin ruin the walk? If I create the vision, I’m the one who knows how it should move. People say you have to pick a lane, but they’re just lazy."

"Honestly? That fits you," Mylo said, offering an honest, warm smile. "You definitely don’t have the personality to sit quiet in the back room."

"Flattery won’t buy you out of carrying the case, Zane," she said, though a tiny, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Now hurry up. Reina is probably having an existential crisis waiting for us outside her dorm."

Ten minutes later, they rounded the cobblestone pathway leading to the freshman girls’ dormitory complex.

Standing beneath the shade of an oak tree was Reina. She wore a pastel blue pleated skirt, an oversized beige cardigan, and her round, oversized glasses that made her look like an anxious, adorable kitten. She was clutching her backpack straps, nervously shifting from foot to foot while checking her phone.

"Reina!" Mylo called out with a gentle wave.

Reina’s head snapped up, her amber eyes lighting up behind her lenses—only to instantly widen into absolute panic as she saw Brandy walking right beside him, with Mylo casually carrying Brandy’s portfolio.

Her tiny mouth dropped open. A deep crimson blush bloomed across her cheeks, rushing straight to the tips of her ears.

"M-Mylo...?! Brandy...?!" Reina squeaked, clutching her bag to her chest like a shield as her eyes darted between them. "W-Why are you two... together?! S-So early?! With her bag...?! Did you... d-did you two spend the night—?!"

"Calm your wild imagination down, Little Mouse," Brandy cut in dryly, reaching out and flicking Reina’s forehead with a sharp thwack.

"Ow!" Reina whined, rubbing her forehead with both hands and pouting with teary, jealous eyes. "B-But Brandy... you said boys were all wolves yesterday!"

"He is a wolf," Brandy snorted, snatching her portfolio out of Mylo’s hand with a scoff. "He stumbled into my cafe at the crack of dawn looking like a stray dog. Nothing happened. His eyes wandered a bit, but I kept him on a very short leash."

Reina’s gaze immediately flicked to Mylo, her cheeks puffing out into an intensely cute, indignant pout. "Mylo... you didn’t look at anything weird, right?"

"Completely innocent," Mylo said, raising both hands in surrender while shooting Brandy a silent, amused glare. "I was just being a gentleman."

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