fell into the trap

Veil slowly nodded. "I'll admit, I might've gone a bit too far. But hey, I've come here on my own, haven't I? I'm not exactly running."

"How about this, Saoirse? You decide how to handle it. As long as it helps you let off some steam, I'm all ears."

"Good."

Saoirse gave him a deep, searching look before rising from the edge of the bath.

A short while later, Veil emerged from the bathroom, freshly bathed and dressed in a soft robe.

He stepped out into the lounge and found Saoirse seated on the couch, still clad in her fitted black leather suit. A few bottles of liquor were arranged neatly on the table before her.

She gestured casually. "Have a few drinks with me. If you manage to drink me under the table, I'll let this whole thing slide. But if you're the one who goes down first... I want you to agree to one condition. No questions asked."

Veil's capabilities—she'd seen them firsthand through surveillance footage. No regular enforcers from the Black Dragon Society could take him in a fair fight.

The whole incident with Julia? That was done. Nothing to salvage there.

But Saoirse never played to lose. If she couldn't punish him, then she'd find a way to make use of him. Someone like Veil—either you eliminate them or pull them into your camp. And she wasn't quite ready to lose such a valuable asset.

Especially not one who could potentially train her people and turn the Rose Hall into a force to be reckoned with.

Killing him? Not the plan. In business, and in the underworld alike, everything revolved around profit.

Veil scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Drinking's not exactly my forte... but since I've already agreed, I can't back out now, can I?"

Soon, the staff brought in a spread of snacks and sides to go with the alcohol.

And so, the drinking began.

"You really hold your liquor well, Miss Saoirse," Veil said, face tinged with red, eyes slightly glassy. He tossed a few peanuts into his mouth with a slow grin. "No blush, no breath out of place. I'm impressed."

Saoirse smirked inwardly. Her tolerance had crushed most of the men in the Black Dragon Society—how could Veil possibly compare?

He'd only had a couple glasses, and already his face looked flushed. Definitely not a drinker.

She raised her glass again. "A toast to you, Mr. Lancaster. Julia may have driven a wedge between us, but credit where it's due—your skills are remarkable."

Clink. She downed the shot in one smooth motion.

Veil's face reddened even more, but he stubbornly took his drink, coughing faintly as he forced it down.

"And another," Saoirse said, smoothly refilling his glass. "But tell me, I've been wondering—how did you know where Julia was being held? Don't tell me... we've got a traitor in the Black Dragon Society?"

Veil's face was a study in resistance, his voice slightly slurred. "A traitor? Can't say. But let's just say I've got eyes and ears all over Veyport City. Think of me as... an information broker. You want intel, and the price is right? I can make things happen."

Saoirse's heart skipped a beat. She stared at him with renewed seriousness.

So he wasn't just a fighter. The man was dangerous in more ways than one.

A man like that—hidden cards, calm demeanor, hard to read. Saoirse found herself growing more intrigued by the minute.

This wasn't someone to eliminate. This was someone to recruit.

And as the drinks kept flowing, the tension between them began to shift—veiled threats replaced by banter, the heat of conflict replaced by something strangely intimate.

Saoirse lifted her glass again. "Mr. Lancaster, a final toast. I've never admired anyone quite like you. With your strength... even our elite fighters wouldn't stand a chance. If you ever feel like training my Rose Hall girls, I'd be deeply grateful."

"I... I can't..." Veil murmured, teetering. "I'm drunk... need to rest a bit..."

Saoirse hid her smirk. He's barely touched a bottle. And he's already this gone?

"Come on now, Mr. Lancaster. Surely you're not scared of a woman outdrinking you?"

A mix of teasing and pressure—she was a master at this game.

Veil gritted his teeth, lifted the glass, and forced it down in big gulps.

"Now that's more like it!" Saoirse laughed, finishing her own shot.

...

"Still standing, Mr. Lancaster? Shall we keep going?"

"I'm gonna puke—ugh!"

"Come now. I'll drink to you, at least."

"Seriously... I'm done…"

"All right, maybe we should stop," Saoirse said, her tone mock-gentle. "Looks like you're really at your limit."

"Limit?" Veil straightened up suddenly, pride flashing in his hazy eyes. "A real man never admits defeat in front of a woman. I'm fine!"

...

"I'm dizzy..."

"Oh come on. One more drink. Just one. And I'll accept any request you make—hell, I'll even train your Rose Hall girls, be your personal enforcer, whatever!"

"Ditch the glass. Too small. Just gimme the bottle!"

...

"Mr. Lancaster...? Why... why does it feel like I changed positions?"

"What are you talking about? You're still on the couch."

...

"Mr. Lancaster, is there something... pressing on top of me?"

"Of course not. Your clothes just got soaked in booze. I helped you get out of them. That's all."

The night passed slowly—an intoxicating blur of heat and movement.

The intimacy of flesh meeting flesh was the most honest conversation they'd ever shared. Maybe their souls couldn't align—but their bodies certainly did.

As dawn's first light spilled across the floor-to-ceiling windows of the luxury suite, it caught on the tangled sheets of the circular bed.

One of the Rose Hall's female operatives pushed the door open and stopped dead at the scene of chaos. Her eyes darted toward the bedroom. She stepped inside, and her breath hitched when she spotted her boss beneath the sheets—and the discarded black leather on the floor.

"Miss Saoirse!" she blurted, panic in her voice.

"You saw nothing," Saoirse said coldly, her tone brooking no argument.

Still under the covers, propped up against the headboard, her gaze distant, dazed.

The woman nodded quickly. "Miss Saoirse, Mr. Lancaster... he just left. With his bodyguards. They all walked out together."

"Veil?!"

Saoirse's mind snapped back to the night before—every moment, every word, every teasing smile.

Humiliation and fury surged through her like a volcano about to erupt.

That bastard!

That son of a bitch!

He'd faked being drunk just to lower her guard!

He tricked her—got her tipsy—then took advantage of the situation without batting an eye!

Sure, she only ever wanted to use Veil—to exploit his power for her gain.

But he turned the tables. Played the long game. Waited until she let down her defenses... and then swooped in for the kill.

Even with her most trusted subordinate nearby, she couldn't bring herself to ask for help. Not even to lift a sheet off the floor.

If she had a second chance, when Veil offered to keep drinking, she'd smash that damn bottle over his head without a second thought!

Monster!

Absolute beast!

For someone like Saoirse, who lived and breathed pride, what happened was more than a defeat. It shattered her ego into a thousand pieces—and every one of them screamed for revenge.

If she could, she'd throw Veil to the ground and beat him to a pulp—then stomp on his smug face until she could breathe again.

...

"The Hall Master, the President wants to speak with you," said the woman from the Rose Hall, pulling out her phone. But deep down, she could only smile bitterly.

The young lady and the President had never gotten along. They hadn't just avoided meeting each other—he was blocked on every possible contact method.

Yet today, the President insisted on speaking with her and made her call him personally.

What had she done to deserve this? Why did she have to face such a doomed task, especially at a time like this?

Despite her silent complaints, she still stepped forward respectfully and held out the phone.

Saoirse had no mood to take any calls.

She rolled her eyes. "Tell him I'm busy. Not available."

The woman smiled wryly. "The President said… if you won't answer the call, he'll come see you in person."

He's lost his mind!

Show up now, of all times?

If what just happened got out, she'd be finished!

If her father found out that Veil had taken advantage of her, forget matchmaking—he'd probably just force her to marry someone outright!

Frustrated and fuming, Saoirse snatched the phone, connected the call, and snapped, "Early in the morning and you're already bothering me? Just spit it out—don't waste my time."

A deep, steady male voice came through. "Is that how you talk to your father?"

Saoirse scoffed, "Take it or leave it. If you've got nothing to say, I'm hanging up."

The man gave a cold snort. "I've already heard about what happened at the base last night. Stay out of the Murphy family's business from now on. And as for Veil rescuing the girl, just let it go. Don't cause any more trouble for him."

What?

Let Veil off the hook?

Saoirse's anger surged again. "No way in hell! He pulled someone out from under my nose—on my turf! That's a slap in my face! You might not care about dignity, but I do! I'm not letting this go!"

She had no idea why her father, who rarely interfered in her affairs, was suddenly taking Veil's side so seriously.

But one thing was clear: this wasn't over.

She had never been humiliated like this in her life!

How was she supposed to swallow this rage?

The man sighed. "There are people in this world we can't afford to cross. Veil has a powerful background—don't provoke him."

Saoirse laughed coldly. "That's it? So the mighty President is scared now? Isn't the Black Dragon Society the most powerful force in Veyport City? And you're telling me you're afraid of some rich playboy?

Are you getting old? If you've lost your guts, just hand the Black Dragon Society over to me. At this rate, it's going to crumble in your hands anyway."

The man barked, "Cut the nonsense and get back here for your matchmaking meeting. If you keep stalling, forget the Black Dragon Society—I'll take back the Rose Hall too!"

"What gives you the right? The Rose Hall is my hard work! If you dare interfere, I swear I'll fight you with everything I've got!" Saoirse exploded.

"Hey, now! Watch your mouth!" A woman's voice interjected from the other end of the line. "You know how Saoirse is—if you keep pushing her, who knows what she'll do? Give me the phone. I'll talk to her."

The phone was handed over, and a soft, doting voice came through, "Saoirse, are you still there? It's Mom."

"I'm here," Saoirse replied, her anger easing a little.

Xinly's voice grew gentle and persuasive. "Saoirse, you're already twenty-six. That's not young anymore. Other girls your age already have two kids. But you? You don't even have a boyfriend. How could your dad and I not be worried?

Listen to Mom, okay? Stop running around out there and come home. I've found you a great guy—he's six feet tall, clean-cut, and a top student who studied overseas."

Hearing that gave Saoirse a headache.

No matter how tough or authoritative she was in the Rose Hall, when it came to dealing with her parents—especially her mother's endless nagging—she had zero resistance.

Gritting her teeth, she stubbornly said, "No need for a top student. I already have a boyfriend."

"Really? Are you serious, Saoirse? Don't lie to me!" Xinly said excitedly. In the background, a man's voice could be faintly heard. "Ask her who the guy is."

"You know him too. It's Veil—the one you're all so afraid of." Saoirse sneered, "Happy now?"

"No way!" Saomi took the phone. "Veil? You and him? That's impossible. Do you really think someone like him doesn't know his own status?"

Saoirse flared. "What's that supposed to mean? You saying I'm not good enough for him?"

Saomi replied bluntly, "You're definitely not. But if you're bringing him up like this, then something must've happened. What exactly—"

Smash!

The call ended.

More precisely, Saoirse had smashed the phone.

The conversation between father and daughter had completely collapsed.

…

On the other side, Veil had returned to the villa and was checking his system notifications.

Ding! Plot deviation detected. Congratulations, host, you've earned +2000 Villain Points.

Ding! Host has conquered female lead Saoirse. Congratulations, host, you've earned +50,000 + (1000 × 6) Villain Points.

"…"

As he silently reviewed the incoming points, Veil's heart was pounding.

Damn.

Conquering a single female lead earned him 50,000 Villain Points?

And that "×6" bonus afterward—did that mean there would be ongoing Villain Point generation?

A renewable resource?

He hit the jackpot.

With a windfall like this, Veil immediately used part of his points to boost his charm by one. He decided to save the rest for upgrading his physique in bulk later.

[Name]: Veil Lancaster

[Age]: 25

[Physique]: 100 (Upgrading…)

[Charm]: 99

[Villain Points]: 42,500

[Skills]: Affinity LV8 (Group favorability +80), Advanced Piano, Advanced Tea Art, Advanced Aesthetics

[Shop]: Open

[Lottery Center]: Open (Each draw costs 100 Villain Points)

[System Inventory]: Photobook ×1, Advanced Medical Kit ×1…

Even though it was just a one-point charm increase, starting from 98, Veil could feel a cool sensation washing over him like a cleansing breeze—it was invigorating.

Kai walked in, blinking as he saw Veil, then quickly recovered. "Young Master, you called?"

Veil lightly tapped the table with his finger, a faint smile on his lips. "So… how was last night? Did you score?"

Kai rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Sure did! All thanks to you, Young Master! Otherwise, I'd still be on the hook. Gotta say, the manager was fire. Oh, by the way, about the club subscription—we probably won't be going there daily for a whole month, so I talked to the manager. We can come in whenever, as long as we show up more than thirty-one times."

Veil waved him off. "Handle those things yourself. You don't need to report every detail to me. Now that you've had your fun, it's time to get back to business. I've got a list of Black Dragon Society outposts. Take a team and wipe them out."