The Heart System Chapter 534

The shop's interior looked even more dismal than its exterior promised. A heavy atmosphere prevailed, choked with dust and a sharp metallic tang. Shelves overflowed with assorted clutter—rusty radios, timepieces, gadgets, gaudy trinkets, items that screamed stolen rather than pawned. Near the counter, a glass case displayed rings alongside tiny electronics, every bit scratched and battered.

Dim lights flickered overhead, a handful of buzzing fluorescent bulbs spilling a murky radiance across the chaos. Toward the rear, a flimsy curtain divided the front space from whatever lurked beyond.

A customer slid cash across to the counter man and slipped out with barely a word. The door clicked shut in his wake, leaving only our group behind.

The counter guy glanced up.

When his gaze hit Sophia, his face twisted at once. Recognition flashed, then darkened into malice. No doubt about it—he'd been at that bar.

"Bastard," he muttered, leaning forward slightly. "Why are you here, you whore?"

"Watch your mouth, fuck-o," Melvin snapped before I could say anything. "Or I’ll wash it with soap."

The guy blinked, clearly not expecting that.

Before another word could drop, the back curtain got shoved aside abruptly.

Four hulking men emerged. Towering frames. Massive shoulders. A dominating aura that crammed the room without trying. They moved unhurried, silent, fanning out just a touch as they advanced, eyes pinned on us.

I angled toward Melvin and hissed quietly. "Melvin... shut the fuck up."

"Yeah," he whispered back quickly. "Yeah, I will."

Stepping up to the counter, I held my voice level. "Where’s Brok?"

"I don’t know," the man replied without hesitation. "And I advise you to fuck off, friend."

"I just want to talk to him about Mark," I said. "The guy who owes him money. I think we can reach an agreement and end this whole mess."

Before he could answer, the curtain behind him parted once more. A figure strode through, and the room's vibe shifted instantly with his arrival. One eye shone pure white, sightless; the other scanned us sharply. Bald, powerfully built, he wore a frayed brown jacket paired with pants worn to threads. Booze and tobacco stench wafted from him strongly. He wasn't ancient—mid-forties perhaps—but moved like a man battered by life, beyond giving a damn.

"Mark?" the man said, his accent thick. "Now that we can talk about. Who are you?"

"Evan," I replied. "And you?"

"Brok." He stepped closer to the counter and rested his elbow on it. "Nice to meet you. Have you come here to pay his debt?"

"Maybe," I said. "How much does he owe?"

"Two million."

I frowned immediately. "What the fuck? Two million?"

"It was fifty at first," Brok said calmly. "With interest, now two million."

"That’s insane," I replied. "I’m willing to pay the original amount. Fifty. We settle this, and everyone walks away. Clean."

"Two million," he repeated, as if I had said nothing at all. "I don’t take less."

"Be reasonable," I said, exhaling slowly. "No one here can come up with that kind of money. You know that. Just take the original amount and move on."

"You come into my shop," he said, his tone sharpening, "and tell me what to do?"

"I came here to negotiate," I answered, lifting my hands slightly to show I wasn’t looking for trouble. "You know Mark won’t pay you anything. You can threaten him all you want, but that doesn’t change reality. I’m offering you something real."

The system stayed silent. No help from Honeyed Words this time.

Fine.

I activated Crushing Presence and stepped closer. I felt it kick in immediately. It wasn’t visible, but it pressed down on the room, subtle but heavy. Brok’s posture shifted just slightly as he straightened up, like he felt it too.

I extended my hand. "Fifty. Take it. We both walk away satisfied."

Above him, the system reacted. Two translucent dice appeared in my view. I had to reach twelve. It wasn’t going to be easy.

And it seemed I had five chances in total. I had already invested five points into the skill, which logically meant I would get to roll five times, but with only one die per roll. When I added the sixth point, the system rewarded me with an extra die that I could use once across those five attempts. Since I ended up with ten points in total, that meant I could roll two dice on each of my five attempts.

"Why would I do that?" Brok asked, watching me carefully.

The first attempt rolled in my vision. Six and four. Crap.

"Because it makes sense," I said. "You get paid instead of chasing someone who has nothing."

Another attempt. Double four. Ah, come on.

"Two million surpasses your offer in value," he shot back. "Why accept anything less?"

My face stayed composed as the system rolled once more. Six and five... damn it.

"You won’t get two million out of him," I countered. "We both know it. This remains your top choice."

The following roll missed the mark too. Three and one...

Brok’s mouth twisted faintly. "I’m good with my odds."

Final try. The dice fell short yet again. Two and six.

Well, fuck me sideways.

I let my hand drop gradually. That sealed it.

"I’d rather roll the dice," he pressed on, his eyes shifting beyond me to Sophia. "Or that whore, Eleanor, might throw in... heh-heh, ’something’ extra."

My jaw tightened. "Watch how you speak of her."

"I’ll speak as I please," he snapped. "Now get your ass out of my shop."

I locked eyes with him a beat longer, then gave a single nod. "Fine."

Turning toward Sophia and Melvin, I saw Melvin regretting every choice that brought him here. His shoulders hunched tight, eyes flicking nervously. Sophia stayed poised and serene, her focus fixed on Brok and his crew.

"Let’s go," I said.

"Y-yeah," Melvin stammered. "Let’s... L-Let’s just leave this place."

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