The Heart System Chapter 594

The vehicle came to a halt, and the engine was silenced. My gaze fixed on the pawnshop; it was still illuminated, indicating it remained open. Taking a deep breath, I rotated my shoulders and accessed the system interface.

The 'Time Stop' ability was acquired and immediately put into effect. The entire world around me became stationary.

══════════════════

Evan Marlowe [Level 21]

──────────────────

EXP: 12385 / 31500

[████░░░░░]

──────────────────

Current Credits: 17887

Current SC: 700

══════════════════

Emerging from the car, I proceeded into the pawnshop. The interior was deserted, with no attendant stationed behind the counter. Moving with swiftness, I approached the heavy drapes situated at the rear and passed through them.

Beyond the curtains lay a small, confined break room. A rudimentary plastic table occupied the center, accompanied by two folding chairs. Against the left wall, a substantial, antiquated safe was firmly anchored to the floor. Positioned between the legs of the primary table was a smaller side table, littered with depleted beer cans and discarded cigarette packs.

Seated behind the main table was Brok. He was not alone.

A woman, completely unclothed, was perched upon him, her back arched and her breasts pressed against his chest. Even with time suspended, it was evident her actions were feigned; her expression conveyed boredom and detachment, far from genuine ecstasy.

"Well, well, well..." I vocalized softly.

Retrieving my phone, I captured several clear photographs of the pair. Evidence for blackmail might prove useful down the line. Knowing Brok's proclivities, he might very well disseminate such images himself, but possessing them was still prudent.

I knelt beside the safe. It was a vintage rotary model, necessitating multiple turns of the dial. No keypad, no electronic lock. Without the correct combination, it was effectively useless.

I repositioned myself next to Brok and gently moved the woman's leg aside to access his pocket. Extracting his phone, I bypassed its security using his fingerprint and commenced an examination of its contents.

"Now, what secrets do you hold, Brok?"

The man scarcely utilized his phone. The instant I accessed it, a deluge of delayed notifications appeared on the screen. I proceeded directly to his photo gallery. It was replete with videos of him engaging in intimacy with various women. I scrolled rapidly until one specific woman caught my attention – a striking woman with dark skin and short black hair. She featured in considerably more photographs and recordings than the others. She appeared to be his preference.

If she was his favored companion, she was likely privy to some information.

I transmitted a few of her most distinct images to myself via Bluetooth, meticulously erased any trace of my activity, and returned the phone to his pocket.

For good measure, I delivered a firm slap to the back of Brok's neck.

"A safe, you say?" I mused aloud. "We shall see about that."

This was sufficient for the present. I had a visual, even if a name remained elusive. Stepping back through the curtains, I exited the pawnshop and re-entered my vehicle. The moment I was seated, I deactivated the Time Stop.

"Who is this girl..." I whispered to myself, examining the images on my phone. "Hmm..."

I ignited a cigarette, drew a deep inhalation, and initiated a reverse image search on my mobile device. The clearest photograph of the dark-skinned woman, obtained from Brok's gallery, was uploaded.

The wait was brief.

A result materialized almost instantaneously: a video hosted on a disreputable adult website. The thumbnail featured her image. Clicking on it, I perused the accompanying description: 'Kayleen slurping my dick like a fucking croissant'.

I shook my head, a wave of disgust washing over me. "Jesus Christ..."

At the very least, a name had been acquired.

Kayleen.

Transitioning to social media platforms, I entered her name. After navigating through several irrelevant profiles, one in particular captured my notice. The username was Kayleen xoxox. The profile picture was a perfect match: short black hair, smooth dark complexion, and a tall, curvaceous physique.

I accessed her page. Within her biographical section, the following was written:

"Text me for the prices. I take the money after we meet."

She was openly advertising her services as an escort.

Her contact number was saved, and I subsequently started the engine. Smoke from the cigarette wisped out the partially lowered window as I departed from the curb.

"Alright..." I remarked with a slight grin. "Let's discover your residence, Kayleen."

⟁ ⟁ ⟁

Seated upon a wooden bench, I casually browsed my phone while awaiting Kayleen's arrival. The park buzzed with activity during this hour. Joggers traversed the winding paths, engrossed in their exercise routines with earbuds in place. Several mothers ambled along, conversation flowing as they guided their strollers, while numerous elderly individuals walked their dogs beneath the gentle afternoon sun. The trees offered ample shade, and the distant echoes of children's laughter from a nearby playground lent the locale an appearance of deceptive normalcy.

"Yo," a voice called out from my right. "Jack, right?"

I turned, and there she was: Kayleen. Despite my use of an alias, I surmised she was employing one as well. It was inconsequential. My objective was not romantic engagement; information was my aim. As Brok's favored companion, there existed a strong likelihood that he confided in her when intoxicated. It was certainly worth investigating.

"Yep," I confirmed with a nod. "Kayleen?"

She offered a brief nod. "Thirty minutes. I took a cab here, so I'll need a bit extra for that."

A sizable wad of cash was pressed into her palm as I opened my wallet. Momentarily, her eyes widened, but a quick clearing of her throat and an attempt to appear nonchalant followed as she tucked the money away into her purse.

Up close, she was more imposing than I had anticipated, and her demeanor was remarkably serious, almost severe. Her sharp features and unyielding expression brought to mind my stern elementary school headmaster – a far cry from the alluring, seductive persona I had envisioned based on her pictures.

"Thanks," she stated. "You mentioned you have your own place, didn't you?"

"A penthouse. It's a bit of a distance from here," I responded, rising to my feet. "Shall we?"

"A penthouse?" She drew back a single, wary step. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"Someone in need of companionship," I replied, forcing a smile. "What's the matter? Are you reconsidering?"

She subtly shook her head. "Let's not go that far. Do you have somewhere closer we could go instead?"

"Why is that?"

"To be completely honest? I don't trust you. What if you're some sort of psycho?"

"That's a valid concern," I admitted with a sigh. "However, I don't have any other suitable locations nearby. It's either the penthouse or nothing at all."

"Then we'll use your car," she declared, exhaling sharply. "You have condoms, right?"

"Indeed."

Good grief, when exactly was the last time I'd actually needed to use one? At the very least, the system hadn't detected any health risks from her, so that eliminated one potential worry.

"Then come on," she said, folding her arms.

I gave a nod. "Follow me."