The Heart System Chapter 496

"I require your assistance with a matter, Mr. Marlowe," he stated.

"Just Evan is fine," I responded, lowering my beverage. "What kind of help?"

He faltered for a moment, glancing downward before meeting my gaze. "It is regarding... my personal life."

A brief sigh escaped me. "I really do not believe I am the right candidate for that task," I informed him. "My own affairs are in complete disarray. Just what are you implying by 'life'?"

With jittery fingers, he rubbed his palms together. "There is a woman I admire," he confessed. "But I have no idea how to approach her."

I stared at him blankly. "Right... and you thought I would be the best point of contact for this because?"

"You managed that encounter with Mrs. Nolin at the coffee shop!"

Instinctively, I looked around before leaning closer. "Lower your voice," I hissed. "Who told you that?"

"Everyone knows," he whispered, though his tone remained vibrant with excitement. "Folks think you two are already an item. Just keeping it under wraps."

"Fantastic," I murmured, massaging my temples. "Precisely the headache I needed."

He inched forward.

"That isn't the issue here," he pressed. "Please, will you assist me?"

"I truly cannot," I said, offering a firm shake of my head. "My own problems are sufficient. I do not need—"

══════════════════ON A ROLL QUEST: 50SC──────────────────Go help Melvin.══════════════════

I glared at the notification for a moment, then shut my eyes. Naturally. Of course, it would bother me with this right now.

Taking a slow, measured breath, I turned back to him. He was practically vibrating with anticipation. He had the expression of a lost puppy, staring at me with those wide, desperate eyes, drilling into my very essence. Good grief.

"Fine," I muttered with reluctance. "I will assist you."

His features illuminated instantly.

"Yes!" he cheered, nearly shouting before hastily silencing himself. "Thank you! Seriously, you have my gratitude!"

I pointed at him with the hand clutching my coffee.

"Keep it down," I commanded. "And do not make me regret my decision. What exactly do you need me to do?"

He grabbed his drink for a quick sip, clearly attempting to soothe his nerves.

"She is working at the moment," he explained. "There is a spot nearby. If we head over, I can point her out."

I exhaled, already lamenting my predicament.

"Very well," I said, rising from the wall. "Lead the way."

Nodding eagerly, he bolted toward the exit with haste.

I trailed behind him, draining the final dregs of my coffee before dropping the container in a trash bin.

Yeah. This was absolutely destined to be just one more complication added to my mounting list of miseries.

⟁ ⟁ ⟁

Yeah... absolutely not.

There was zero possibility for this Melvin fellow to make any headway with her. Even if the universe defied all logic to accommodate him, the gap between their worlds was simply too wide to bridge. Trying to explain it was futile. It felt like watching a timid rabbit try to woo a titan like Optimus Prime.

I drifted toward him, dropping my voice while keeping my focus locked on her.

"Melvin... are you absolutely certain this is the girl?"

"Yes," he blurted out, nodding as if he had been anticipating the question his entire existence. "She is lovely, is she not? Her name is Isabella."

Lovely.

Sure. That was definitely one way to describe her.

We occupied a booth in Stingy Ladies, and the place was practically a ghost town at this hour. Empty chairs were scattered about, the faint, lingering scent of last night’s liquor hung in the air, and the dim lighting made every second feel sluggish. Neither Charlotte nor Emilia were to be seen, stripping me of any chance to pawn him off and escape easily.

I turned my attention back to Isabella, this time observing her with more scrutiny.

Her hair was styled in a daring asymmetrical cut—one side shaved clean, the other falling in a messy yet deliberate cascade. It was an unconventional look, yet it suited her perfectly. She possessed a radiant, dark complexion, and a heart-shaped pendant rested against her collarbone. And, well, her chest... the canary-yellow t-shirt certainly highlighted her figure.

Her denim skirt was equally form-fitting. Every time she reached down to fuss with a cable or component on the drum set, the hem shifted just enough to be quite... noticeable.

"Is she... some kind of punk rocker?" I inquired, eyes still fixed on her.

"No," Melvin insisted, sounding slightly affronted. Then, he faltered. "Or... I do not think so?"

I let that slide. Her subculture didn't matter.

What mattered were the four men surrounding her. They stood in a tight circle, chatting her up while she dismantled an electronic drum kit on the stage. These weren't standard loiterers, either. They were physically imposing, self-assured men who leaned into her personal space without asking—and were clearly not being rebuffed for it.

And most tellingly, she didn't push them away. If anything, she looked at ease. Relaxed. Like she was accustomed to this exact brand of attention.

I leaned back against the barstool and sighed quietly.

"My friend... this woman is not meant for you."

"I am in love with her," Melvin said with complete sincerity, ignoring my warning entirely. "I simply do not know how to start a conversation. How did you land someone like Mrs. Nolin?"

I turned my head to glare at him.

"I did not 'land' anyone," I retorted. "Cease that phrasing immediately. And wait a moment... exactly how old are you?"

"Thirty-one."

My chair screeched against the floorboards as I spun around to face him squarely.

"Thirty-one?" I repeated, my volume carrying further than intended.

A few heads turned. Isabella cast a fleeting glance in our direction, as did the guys surrounding her, before returning to their business.

I leaned in and lowered my voice further.

"You are a full ten years my senior," I stated bluntly.

He gave a sheepish laugh, scratching the nape of his neck.

"I do not look it, though... do I?"

I stared at him for a beat, then averted my gaze.

"Certainly... sure," I muttered. "That is not the primary issue here."

The issue was, quite frankly, everything else.

Running a hand through my hair, I exhaled. "Look, I will try to concoct a plan. My friend Charlotte works here. I can quiz her about Isabella, see what makes her tick and how she reacts to people. That sort of research."

His face beams as if I had just handed him a winning lottery ticket.

"Really? You are a life-saver!" he exclaimed. "Can I have your contact information?"

"Sure, go ahead," I said, retrieving my phone.

We exchanged details in a hurry. His hands trembled slightly while inputting the numbers, apparently stunned that this was actually happening.

I finished the last of my orange juice, placed the glass down, and stepped off the stool.

"Let's depart," I instructed. "There is no benefit to loitering and gawking."

I turned toward the exit... and froze.

Dammit. There she stood.