Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain-Chapter 161: A Beatdown

Logan stood frozen, his mouth opening slightly but no words coming out. He had no defense—just silent shame as the scolding echoed in his ears.

His wife, her face smeared with blood, saw her husband's uselessness and decided to change tactics. She softened her expression, her voice turning gentle as she played the family card.

"Sera, we're family," she pleaded, forcing a pitiful smile. "After your grandfather passed, we're all you have left. We know we were wrong. Just this once, please forgive us. Let us return home. When we get back, your uncle and I will do everything we can to make up for the past."

She put on the act of a kind, remorseful aunt.

But kindness wouldn't work. Maybe if she tried playing the role of a younger, more naive aunt, it could have worked—but not with Sera.

Alex sat quietly to the side, watching the pathetic performance unfold.

Sera's patience snapped. Her eyes darkened, and she pushed to her feet, rage burning in her chest.

"Shut the fuck up," she spat. "You don't deserve to call me family, not after you all have done to me and my parents."

She turned, stepping into Alex's space, breathing heavily as if restraining herself. Then, as if it was the most natural request in the world, she tilted her head toward him and asked,

"Alex?"

Alex raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The corner of his lips quirked up ever so slightly as he tilted her chin up with his fingers, his voice as smooth as silk.

"Sure I know what you're thinking," he said casually. "But that'll cost extra."

Smart girl.

Alex waved a hand lazily. "Just don't kill them."

The screen flickered to life. The video feed revealed three men in well-tailored suits. With practiced precision, they removed their newsboy caps, placing them neatly on a nearby barrel. Then, without a word, they picked up blood-stained sheep whips from the ground.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The first lash landed.

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"AHHHH! AHHHHH!"

The sound of leather striking flesh mixed with the agonized screams of Logan and others, forming a gruesome, one-of-a-kind symphony.

Sera watched, her fingers gripping the edge of her sleeve. Despite everything, unease crawled up her spine. No matter how much she despised them, these people were once her family. Their desperate cries were unbearable.

She clenched her jaw, then looked up at Alex.

"Alex… turn off the sound."

"…." Of all the things she could have said, he half-expected her to show them somewhat mercy on her role as a heroine.

Really. Ten minutes later, the video showed the aftermath. The three bloodied figures slumped against the ground, barely recognizable as Logan and his family.

"Did that make you feel better?" Alex tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on Sera. Her carefully maintained facade had crumbled, revealing something far more unsettling beneath.

Sera shook her head, though there was an unmistakable flicker of excitement in her eyes. "Not really," she admitted, voice steady despite the scene they had just witnessed.

Alex let out a slow breath, watching her closely. Wow. So this is what happens when a heroine embraces the darkness? I think I like it.

His lips curled into a faint smirk before he turned his attention back to the video call. Without hesitation, his voice dropped into a smooth, commanding tone.

"Make it harder."

The response was immediate. On the screen, two suited enforcers stepped forward, their movements precise and calculated.

With a practiced grip, they adjusted the brims of their newsboy caps before delivering swift, brutal slashes between Logan's legs—and his son's.

Even with the sound muted, the agony on their faces was deafening. Logan's body convulsed, his mouth open in a silent scream, while his son crumpled, hands trembling as he clutched at nothing.

The pain was palpable, the kind that made your stomach turn just from watching. It transcended sound, it was a pain you could feel.

No wonder they're called the ruthless. Alex studied the executioners on the screen, noting their efficiency, their sheer ruthlessness.

A hint of envy crept in. So disciplined, so precise… Maybe I should let some people like them work for me. The thought was fleeting, but tempting.

Still, he had a more pressing matter to deal with. He turned back to Sera, studying her expression carefully. "Feeling good now?"

Sera's shoulders tensed slightly, but once again, she shook her head.

Alex exhaled sharply. Holy hell. Logan should be grateful to have a niece like this—most people would have passed out just from watching.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, he gestured toward the screen again. "Make it even harder."

Just as the order was given, a suited man in the video feed made a subtle hand gesture, signaling a request for a voice call. The screen shifted. A second later, the sound clicked on.

"Sir, my boys rounded up some Welsh troublemakers from the horse-betting ring," the man reported in a steady, no-nonsense tone. His voice was smooth, like he'd done this kind of thing a hundred times before—just another day on the job.

The implication was clear. Reinforcements had arrived.

Alex's smirk deepened. "Good work." Without another glance at the screen, he cut the feed, turning his full attention back to Sera. His voice took on a teasing lilt as he asked, "Now? Feeling good?"

Sera didn't answer right away. Instead, she sat motionless, her expression eerily blank. The words had no effect on her—not fear, not excitement, not even curiosity. She just stared at the now-dark screen, lost in thought.

Seconds passed, stretching into what felt like an slow motion time. Then, with a slow, almost hesitant movement, she turned her head and locked eyes with Alex.

The moment their gazes met, something inside her seemed to snap. Her breathing hitched. A flush spread across her pale cheeks, creeping up to her ears. Her fingers curled slightly, as if trying to grasp onto something unseen.

Alex frowned, caught off guard. What the hell?

Before he could react, Sera suddenly spun around. Without warning, she plopped herself onto his lap, her body pressing into him as if seeking something, warmth, security, or maybe something else entirely. Her breaths came fast and uneven, her lips curving into a twisted, almost delirious smile.

"Not yet." There was no hesitation in her voice. No doubt.