The Demon's Menu-Chapter 773: The Taste of Sugar, You Don’t Understand. (2)
Chapter 773 -18 The Taste of Sugar, You Don’t Understand._2
Pers’ eyes widened, completely oblivious to what was unfolding.
"Besides that program, what else could there be?”
"A locator?”
"A bug?”
"Or
"A micro bomb?”
...
Pers couldn’t help but let his thoughts run wild.
"Everything you’re thinking of could be a possibility,”
"And it’s not difficult to verify.”
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"All you need to do is provide the wrong information,”
"Remember! It should be information with a high error tolerance,”
"For instance, you were successful with Galen but failed with me,”
Jason warned again.
"Alright, I understand, contestant Jason,”
Having said that, Pers, the ‘contact’, turned and chose to leave.
Watching the door that had returned to its ‘wooden’ appearance, Jason suddenly understood even more why ‘The Planner’ had chosen Pers.
He was just too useful!
With simple analysis, Pers had conveyed exactly the ‘information’ he had wanted.
Pers might choose to work with ‘Brutalizer,’ which was an anticipated guess.
But would ‘Brutalizer’ agree to cooperate?
‘Golden Lamb’ Galen would likely comply.
And him?
He was an unknown.
Or rather, Pers seeking cooperation could itself be a test from the other party.
If successful, they would move on to the next step.
If it failed?
Naturally, they would employ their backup measures.
"The Gibson Family, Hera Family, Amiel Family, or Losa Family, which one could it be?”
Jason mused inwardly.
Then he raised his hand and pressed the ‘Nutrition Meal (Free)’ button again.
Ding.
The crisp sound echoed throughout the room.
…
Section F, ‘Game’ Tower, top floor.
Xilin’s body had long been removed, along with all the blood, which had been cleaned up nicely.
A brand-new carpet.
Disinfectant, ventilation, air fresheners.
After a series of methods were employed, the entire meeting room bore no traces of the earlier mess.
Thump, thump, thump!
The aged elder from the Gibson Family, out of habit, tapped on the table, breaking the silence first.
"The three of us, are we just going to sit here doing nothing?”
While saying this, the elder leaned back, crossed his arms in front of his abdomen, manifesting a complacent demeanor as if holding the winning ticket.
"Of course not,”
"But a necessary mourning is a must,”
"Xilin was after all a decent person,”
Sighed the representative of the Hera Family, the lady.
"Donna, are you joking?”
"Out of the four people sitting here, apart from Lord Luodeni of the Losa Family, who else is qualified to mourn for Xilin?”
"Or more accurately, isn’t Xilin’s death directly tied to us three?”
The elder who spoke first sneered, his tone filled with disdain for the Hera Family’s representative.
"Me?”
"What have your actions, Rodney, got to do with me, Donna?”
"I simply stood up because Xilin, the representative of the Send Family, violated the rules.”
Donna, the lady with the black folding fan, countered unapologetically, shaking her fan.
"Then have the guts not to accept the assets of the Send Family in Section F!”
Rodney sat up straight, a mix of aggression and goading in his posture.
"Why should I?”
"I represent the Hera Family.”
"Also, Rodney, stop playing your little clever games. I won’t be fooled,”
Donna opened her fan and placed it in front of her veil.
Her already obscure face became even more indistinct.
Even a peculiar smudge seemed to cast across her features.
At the same time, a sense of danger arose from the depths of Rodney’s heart.
The Gibson Family’s representative suddenly jumped out of his chair.
Swish!
Crack!
As the Gibson Family’s representative leaped from his chair, the entire chair was sliced in half.
"Donna!”
Rodney growled, about to pounce.
However, the representative of the Amiel Family intercepted, standing in Rodney’s way.
"Wittes, are you in cahoots with Donna?”
Rodney roared lowly, his voice like the growl of a large feline.
"No,”
"I only wish to secure the rightful benefits for the Amiel Family—We can give up the other properties of the Send Family in Zone F, but the ‘game’ and everything it represents, I hope it will all belong to the Amiel Family.”
As the Wittes of the Amiel Family, standing between Luodeni and Donna, he spoke with a voice as robust and powerful as his physique.
But, as soon as the words were out—
Luodeni and Donna, who had been at loggerheads just a moment ago, both sneered in unison.
"Wittes, you must be dreaming,”
"The ‘game’? And everything it represents?”
"Do you think we’re fools?”
The two questioned the representative of the Amiel Family, one after another.
However, Wittes remained unmoved.
"What are your conditions?”
Wittes asked, word by word.
"The ‘game’ in Zone F and everything it represents should rightfully belong to the Gibson Family!”
Luodeni said, without yielding.
"Wrong!”
"It should belong to the Hera Family!”
Donna was not to be outdone.
The air of confrontation arose once again.
This time, Wittes joined in as well.
The voices of argument grew louder, and Losa the 11th, sitting to the side, furrowed his brows tighter and tighter.
Finally—
"Sorry, I’m not feeling well.”
"I’d like to step out for a moment.”
Losa the 11th, the young man unaccustomed to the situation before him, excused himself and rose to leave the conference room.
Click!
The conference room door closed.
The excellently soundproofed door completely cut off the noise of the argument.
Losa the 11th sighed quietly and headed to a nearby lounge.
As the 11th in line to the Losa Family, he held no hope of succeeding the family leadership, which his brothers and sisters did not allow him to concern himself with.
That’s why he found himself in Zone F, a ‘fringe area’ for the Losa Family.
Fortunately, his days were rather pleasant.
Without the calculations of his siblings, nor the oppressive gaze of his father, he spent most of his time reading and occasionally enjoyed hunting—a truly good life.
But…
Send the 9th had died.
It was not a natural death; he was assassinated.
This threw everything into chaos.
He could sense the impending storm of bloodshed, so he had prepared to distance himself from it all.
Not to take part.
Not to show any bias.
After all, as a young master of the Losa Family, representing the Losa Family, he could obtain everything that was due to him.
Because of the Losa.
With that thought, Losa the 11th didn’t even wish to go to the lounge anymore.
Turning around, he headed straight downstairs.
He wanted to return to his room, take a nice bath to relax, and then pick up an ancient tome to read in bed, lying on his side. Of course, sparkling water and chips were essential.
As for other matters?
He did not wish to concern himself.
Nor did he wish to interfere.
Even more so, he could not.
Send the 9th, a man he could consider a friend, was dead. He felt sad, but what could he do?
He was powerless.
"I’m sorry, my friend.”
"Though we only became friends because of our similar circumstances, without a single common interest, I still hope you can…,”
Losa the 11th thought to himself silently as he stepped into the car downstairs.
This was a vehicle belonging to the Losa Family, easily recognizable.
However, as he was getting into the car, Losa the 11th immediately regretted it.
Because the car’s driver and bodyguard was not someone from the Losa Family.
Instead, it was a middle-aged man he had never seen before.
"You!”
Just as Losa the 11th was about to open his mouth, a strong hand covered it, the palm exerting so much force that his entire neck was gripped, and the sensation of suffocation was immediate.
At the same time, a shushing sound reached his ears.
"Losa the 11th, I hope you won’t make any extra movements.”
"We don’t want to hurt you.”
"At least not while you cooperate.”
A voice arose.
Losa the 11th nodded immediately.
However, the hand did not leave Losa the 11th’s mouth, though the force constraining his neck lessened greatly.
Instinctively, Losa the 11th turned his head to look at the person beside him.
The next moment, Losa the 11th’s eyes widened.
"It’s you!”
