The Heart System Chapter 533

Approaching the stage, I noticed the bar's faint buzz receding somewhat, replaced by the clangs of metal pedals and drum tunings. Melvin had arrived earlier, positioned uncomfortably off to the side, muttering about some band. His hands gestured excessively while speaking, as though he had no idea where to place them.

Isabella scarcely glanced his way.

Her attention fixed on the drum kit, she bent forward a bit to adjust the snare's tension. Only then did she turn, her gaze bypassing Melvin to settle on me.

"Oh," she remarked, a subtle grin appearing. "The great hero in person. Hi, Evan."

I nodded briefly. "Hey."

Under the stage lights up close, her attire caught the eye even more. A loose cropped tank top draped teasingly over her form with every motion, the thin material hugging lightly, its low neckline attracting notice effortlessly. Her shorts matched the daring style—brief, with ragged hems, sitting high on her thighs. Her movements made it seem intentional yet natural.

Then Melvin stood in contrast.

His jacket spotless. Shirt buttoned neatly. All pressed and orderly. As if attending a formal interview rather than a bar gig. The disparity stung sharply.

"Hey, um," I started, voice even. "Were you around when those guys showed up yesterday?"

"I was," she answered, twirling a drumstick deftly. "One spoke some foreign tongue. No clue." She shrugged. "But Sophia? She demolished them. Hilarious almost."

"Yeah," I agreed. "She’s tough."

"For real, for real."

"They came for Eleanor, yeah?" I inquired. "What happened with her?"

"She was petrified," Isabella stated, face growing serious. "Literally trembling. Poor girl." She scratched idly beneath her top, fabric rising then settling. "A waiter and I pulled her away before it escalated. Hauled her to the bathroom, locked it tight. Safest spot till it ended."

"Then what?"

"Cops arrived. Standard chaos followed." Another shrug. "Not a great night."

"Yeah," I murmured. "Can imagine."

"You’ve got no clue," she said, eyeing me pointedly.

"I—" Melvin interrupted abruptly, advancing. "We’re handling that dude today."

Isabella pivoted slowly to face him. "Handling him?"

I sensed the direction this headed. "Melvin..."

"Sophia, Evan, me," he pressed on, disregarding me fully, "heading to his spot. Brok, yeah? We’ll thrash him."

Isabella arched a brow, glancing at me for verification.

I coughed lightly, clapped once. "We’re just talking. Nothing more."

Melvin scowled. "No, we’re gonna—"

"Time to move, Melvin," I interjected swiftly. "We’ll be late."

"But—"

"Let’s go."

He paused, shoulders slumping. "Yeah... fine."

He waved timidly at Isabella. "Uh... bye."

She ignored him entirely. Returned to her drums.

I nodded to her. "See you."

"Bye, Evan," she said offhand, resuming her adjustments.

We departed the stage area, Melvin shuffling reluctantly toward the exit. Chilly air rushed in as we emerged outside.

"I barely spoke to her," Melvin complained.

"You deviated from the plan," I replied, unlocking the car. "I said stick to music. Keep it basic."

"I tried!" he argued. "Brought up this band. Their track’s in an anime, figured—"

"Anime?" I eyed him. "Does she seem like an anime fan?"

"Can’t tell," he defended. "She dubbed me a weeb, though."

"Shocking," I quipped.

He sighed deeply. "Dude... I blew it, huh?"

"Eh... kinda," I conceded. "But salvageable. Don’t overcomplicate next time."

Sophia rose straight as she neared. She’d obviously waited nearby.

"Next chance another day," I said.

"Yeah..." Melvin grumbled.

"Hop in. I’ll drive you."

"If he insists on tagging along," Sophia said under her breath, sliding into the passenger seat, "fine by me."

The door closed firmly. I lingered briefly, sighed, then circled to the driver’s side.

"God..." I whispered getting in. "What to do with these two..."

⟁ ⟁ ⟁

The pawnshop seemed totally mismatched in the area, as though it had been tossed there and abandoned to crumble. Nearby buildings stayed neat, modest shops boasting clear signs and solid lighting, yet this spot differed sharply. Paint on the outer walls flaked and dulled, the sign over the entrance dangling by a thread, lacking several letters in its title. Grimy windows overflowed with odd junk that made no sense together.

Right across the road sat a little market glowing with lights, folks drifting in and out without a care. Several cars hugged the sidewalk, while a bit farther, a coffee spot featured patrons lounging outdoors on what felt like any routine afternoon. Such stark difference spotlighted this dump even harder. It came off like a ugly blotch right in the heart of the everyday scene.

I shut the car door and drew a deep breath, peering inside via the filthy pane. A handful of shoppers milled about, checking out racks and murmuring softly.

"This is the place," Sophia grumbled next to me. "So what’s the plan, Evan?"

I shot her a look, then Melvin. "Melvin, I get why you’re here. But you?" My gaze returned to Sophia. "Why’d you come?"

Her face grew stern. "That bastard took a swing at one of my girls. I’m not sitting this one out."

"Wow..." Melvin whispered, eyeing her like a total badass. "That’s actually cool."

"Alright," I replied, letting out a long breath. "We go in, we talk to Brok. Ask about Eleanor’s brother and the debt. If we can settle this peacefully, we do that."

"And if we can’t?" Sophia questioned.

I scratched the nape of my neck. "Then we’ll figure it out."

"What a plan," she grumbled.

We approached the entrance and went in.

Sophia eased the door closed after us with a soft snap.