Chapter 145: Chapter 145

First things first, I had to learn the code for Guy’s safe. Second, I needed credits—a shit ton of credits. My plan was to use Time Stop, not once but twice, to get into his place, crack open that safe, grab everything inside, and get the hell out before the cameras caught me or the Time Stop’s ten-minute window ran out. Problem was, I was broke as fuck, sitting on just 55 credits. I needed to grind quests to afford two Time Stops at 90c each.

╭────────────────────╮

– Quest Available

==========================

– Title: Who’s There?

– Task: Talk to a stranger in a bar

and get a blowjob in the restroom.

– Reward: +40 EXP, 50c

==========================

– Accept Quest? [Yes] [No]

╰────────────────────╯

Fifty credits wasn’t bad. With my current 55, it’d get me closer to the 180 I needed for two Time Stops. Guy’s place was probably a fortress—paranoid bastard like him might’ve rigged it with alarms or worse. I had to be ready for anything.

“Alright,” I muttered, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “Get a blowjob in a bar restroom. Hello, STD.”

I hit accept, and another quest popped up, even wilder but still packing credits. Not enough for a second Time Stop, but every bit helped.

╭────────────────────╮

– Quest Available

==========================

– Title: Who’s There(2)?

– Task: Talk to a stranger in a bar

and fuck her in the restroom.

– Reward: +60 EXP, 50c

==========================

– Accept Quest? [Yes] [No]

╰────────────────────╯

I accepted it too, checking myself one last time in the mirror. Same tuxedo I’d bought with Anotta’s card—sleek, black, tailored to make me look like a big shot. Hopefully, it’d fool some girl into thinking I was more than an ex-gas station clerk scraping by. Damn.

Kim was crashing with Jasmine tonight. We’d agreed to keep my thing with the girls on the down-low. If Guy caught wind of them, he’d probably come after Jasmine, Tessa, and Kim too, just to fuck with me. I didn’t need that kind of heat.

╭────────────────────╮

– CURRENT STATS

==========================

– Strength: 3

– Charm : 12

– Manipulative Charm

⤷ Honeyed Words (⏹⏹☐☐☐)

⤷ Gaslight (⏹☐☐☐☐)

– Emotional Charisma

– Seductive Allure

– Libido : 10

– Pleasure: 10

==========================

Unused Ability Points: 3

╰────────────────────╯

“Alright, Evan,” I said to my reflection. “You dumped twelve points into Charm. Time to see what it can do.”

I almost threw my three unused points into Charm but stopped myself. I might need to reset Libido or Pleasure later, depending on how this played out. For now, Charm at 12 would have to carry me through a bar full of strangers.

My phone buzzed—Tuck’s name on the screen. Big T, my old gas station buddy. Still tight, unlike that weirdo Richard with his anal obsession. Thank fuck for normal friends.

“Yo, my man,” Tuck said, his voice all energy. “The car’s ready.”

“Thank you,” I said, grabbing my keys. “I’ll be there in a second.”

I hung up, exhaling. Tuck’s brother worked as a bellboy at some fancy five-star hotel nearby and had pulled some strings to borrow a car for me. A Rolls-Royce Cullinan, I think? Couldn’t remember the name exactly—cars weren’t my thing, too damn expensive for a guy like me who’d never owned one.

I left my apartment, descended the stairs, my hair tied back in a messy bun. When I pushed open the building’s door and saw the car parked out front, my jaw dropped. Holy fuck. This thing was a beast—sleek, black, gleaming under the neon streetlights, looking like it cost more than my entire life.

“Big E!” Tuck called, hopping out of the driver’s seat, grinning wide as he walked over for a handshake.

“My guy,” I said, returning the shake, our shoulders bumping. “Man, you saved my life with this car.”

“Let’s go over the plan,” he said, checking his watch. “I need this back in twenty. You roll up to the nightclub in this Rolls-Royce, hop out looking like a boss. I’ll play your driver or bodyguard, then drive off like I’m parking it. Or… let’s change the plan a bit, don’t drive the car. Let me drive. You cool with that?”

“Why?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You never had a car, man,” he said, smirking. “Don’t want you scratching this beauty.”

“I’ve got a license,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Nah, still,” he said, waving me off. “Trust me.”

“Fine,” I said, shaking my head.

He chuckled. “Hop in.”

I reached for the passenger door, but Tuck darted in front, opening it with a dramatic bow. “Please, my good sir, allow me,” he said, his voice dripping with mock formality.

“Ah, shut up,” I said, laughing. “Come on.”

He grinned, giving my shoulder a playful punch before heading to the driver’s side. I slid into the plush leather seat, the interior smelling like money. This had to work. If I didn’t pull off these quests, I’d be screwed for credits. There was another quest I’d rejected the second I saw it, but if this plan tanked, I might have to reconsider.

╭────────────────────╮

– Quest Available

==========================

– Title: Shush

– Task: Fuck Delilah in her

daughter’s room while Ivy sleeps.

– Reward: 195c

==========================

– Accept Quest? [Yes] [No]

╰────────────────────╯

Nah, no fucking way. Banging Delilah in Ivy’s room while she slept? If Ivy woke up and saw her mom under me, it’d be a disaster. But… fuck. My apartment was on the line. 195 credits would cover both Time Stops and then some. Maybe I could… no. Or—shit, maybe? I was a mess, torn between survival and not being a total scumbag.

Tuck revved the engine, the Cullinan purring like a beast. I opened the glove compartment, finding a bottle of fancy cologne. I gave it a sniff—damn, it smelled like wealth—and sprayed some on my neck and wrists.

“Whose car is this?” I asked as we pulled into the street, the city’s neon lights flashing across the windshield. “Fuck, they’re rich, huh?”

“No clue,” Tuck said, grinning. “But whoever they are, they’ve got taste.”

“For real,” I said, leaning back, the leather creaking under me. My heart was pounding, but my Charm stat was high, and I had a Rolls-Royce to flex. Time to play the part and make these quests count.

I stared out the window as the car glided through the city, the neon lights smearing across the glass like paint, pinks and blues bleeding into the rain-soaked streets. The city was alive, pulsing with late-night energy—people spilling out of bars, cabs honking, the faint thump of bass from somewhere distant. My mind was still on Nala, that safe, and the 180 credits I needed for two Time Stops to pull this off. Guy was coming for my life, and I wasn’t about to let him win.

My phone buzzed, snapping me out of it. Kayla’s name lit up the screen.

’Hey, Evan.’

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. What the hell did she want? I figured she’d forgotten about me by now, but maybe not. Or… fuck, it was probably Richard being a nuisance again, dragging her into his drama. My gut twisted at the thought of dealing with that asshole.

’Hey. Something wrong?’ I texted back, keeping it short.

“I didn’t take you for a nightclub guy,” Tuck said, glancing at me from the driver’s seat, his hands steady on the wheel. “You’re more like a ’grab a beer and chill on the beach’ type in my head.”

“Hey, can’t I enjoy beer, beach, and nightclubs?” I said, smirking, my Charm stat at 12 giving my voice a playful edge.

“You’re right,” Tuck said, chuckling. “Still, I was surprised you’d ask for something like this. Can’t lie.”

“Yeah, well, I surprised myself too, T,” I said, leaning back, the leather seat creaking under me.

Another buzz. Kayla’s reply: ’Richard is just being a dickhead. He told me he’d kill himself and now he won’t pick up his phone. Can you check on him tomorrow? I already called the cops.’

Fucking Richard. Of course it was him. I’d hoped Kayla was texting for… I don’t know, something normal, a conversation, maybe a hint she was into me. But no, it was that creep pulling his usual stunts. Back when I was still at the gas station, before everything went to shit and I quit, Richard was always yapping about moving out, starting fresh. Probably still in that dump, though.

’Sure,’ I texted back. ’Don’t worry about him. He’s not the type to kill himself.’

’I hope so, Evan. Anyway, I won’t bother you again this late. Bye.’

I sent a wave emoji and locked the screen, shoving the phone in my pocket.

The nightclub came into view, Endless Sea, its name glowing in electric purple above the entrance, the letters flickering like they were underwater. The place was packed, a long line of people snaking down the sidewalk, all dressed to impress, sequined dresses, tailored jackets, fake laughs cutting through the night air.

The security guard, a beefy guy with a shaved head, was checking IDs, his flashlight flicking over each one like a cop. A couple of police cars idled at the end of the street, lights off but ready for trouble. Tuck used to rave about this place, calling it heaven—pools of light, half-naked dancers, drinks that cost more than my old hourly wage. I’d never been inside, just passed by the street a few times, always wondering what the hype was about.

Endless Sea was a beast of a club, all glass and chrome, the front facade curved like a wave, reflecting the city’s neon in warped, shimmering patterns. The entrance was flanked by two massive pillars pulsing with LED lights that shifted from blue to green, syncing with the muffled bass leaking out. The crowd was a mix of rich kids, wannabe influencers, and older guys with too much cologne, all buzzing with anticipation.

“Alright,” Tuck said, pulling the Cullinan to the curb, the engine purring as he parked. “You stay here. I’ll open your door.”

“Okay,” I said, adjusting my tuxedo, the fabric smooth under my fingers, the cologne I’d swiped from the glove compartment making me smell like I belonged here.

Tuck hopped out, rounding the car with a swagger, his broad shoulders filling out his black jacket. He opened my door with a flourish, bowing slightly like I was some VIP. “After you, boss,” he said, his grin barely hiding his amusement.

The crowd’s eyes snapped to me, whispers rippling as heads turned. The Cullinan gleamed behind me, its sleek lines screaming money, and my tuxedo, black, tailored, courtesy of Anotta’s card, made me look like I owned the place. A few girls in line giggled, their eyes lingering, while some guys shot jealous glares. My Charm stat at 12 was practically humming, amplifying every glance, every step.

I stepped out, slipping a hundred-dollar bill into his hand. “Hey, I’ll take that hundred back.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “No way, bro. But good luck.”

I gave a strained smile, my gut twisting as I watched him slide back into the driver’s seat, the Cullinan pulling away with a low growl. I turned toward the entrance, bypassing the line entirely, my stride confident, like I was above waiting. The security guard gave me a quick once-over, his eyes flicking to the tux, the confidence, the ghost of the Rolls-Royce. He nodded, unclipping the velvet rope and gesturing me forward.

“Welcome, sir,” he said, his voice gruff but respectful.

I nodded back, stepping into the chaos of Endless Sea, the bass hitting me like a physical force, my mind already on the quests—and the safe waiting at the end of this fucked-up game.

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