Page 88 of The Cute Psycho

Petro had approached me with a potential alliance with his daughter, which I'd promptly refused. He'd taken it personally, and we've butted heads on more than one occasion since then, but mainly in business. I don't know why he'd been so offended by my refusal, but every time I was about to close a deal, he'd intervene to try to stop it.

"His pettiness knows no bounds," I add drily.

I'd never gone out of my way to look into him, but last I knew, he was in the meth trade. Interesting that he's leveled up, and it makes me wonder if he has any connection with Jimenez and the Gallaghers.

"Drew is Mr. Meester's favorite, and he has a total of two hundred fifty-four kills under his belt. Quite a discrepancy, no?" the host asksthe public, and everyone is quick to shout their predictions. That Drew will finish Seth off.

"What's the point of all this?" Sisi asks, looking intrigued.

"He's showing off, no doubt," I explain. Knowing Petro's hubris, that's exactly why he would lend his champion to one of these fights. "Other than that, I guess there must be a bidding on the winner, should Seth win instead of Drew."

"What do you think? Who will win?"

I look closely at the two men. Their physiques are closely matched, but logically speaking, Drew has more experience and should be the favored one in this battle.

"Seth," I say, narrowing my eyes at the stage.

"What? Really? Why? He has fifty kills versus two hundred and fifty-four kills. How can he stand a chance?"

"We'll see," I add, curious about the outcome too.

But while the two fighters look evenly matched in physical strength, Seth has something Drew does not — the desire to live. Drew's many victories must have stroked his ego, because I can see the smugness in his gaze as he looks down on Seth.

After a lengthy monologue by the host, the gong is hit, the fight officially starting.

Drew is the first one to advance, immediately taking the offensive. Seth, on the other hand, skirts around the stage, avoiding a direct confrontation. Instead, his good eye is focused on Drew's movements, cataloguing every step andhowthose steps are done.

Interesting.

More dancing around each other, and Drew grows impatient, just like the crowd. And out of that impatience, the first mistake is born. Drew jumps on Seth, throwing his entire weight forward, no doubt counting on tackling Seth to the ground. Instead, Seth stays put until Drew is but a millimeter away from him, after which he promptly moves away with incredible speed for someone his size.

He places his body diagonally, rooting his lower half on the ground while he twists his torso to the right. Holding one foot down, he uses the other to knee his adversary in the gut, the combined momentum ofDrew's jump plus the strength behind Seth's kick magnifying the pain. Drew winces, the air knocked out of him, and he takes a second to stabilize himself.

A second too much, because Seth finally unleashes his true potential, barreling into Drew with his fists. He concentrates on his head, landing blow after blow at his temples until Drew can barely stand still.

One more punch, and Drew looks dazedly at the crowd before his knees buckle and he hits the floor.

"Wow..." Sisi breathes, and I share the feeling.

Impressive. Very impressive.

The entire room is silent as they are probably mourning the loss of their bets, and I sneak a glance at Mr. Meester who is looking at the stage as if he can't believe what just happened.

As I predicted, the host blunders through a small speech, eventually putting Seth up for bidding.

"Starting price is determined by Mr. Meester, since it is his loss," the host says, but Mr. Meester is already gone from his balcony, no doubt the disappointment too great for his fragile ego.

My lips pull up in a smile as the host settles on a random amount, with multiple people already trying to up the previous bid.

"Ten." I raise my paddle, unable to help myself.

It's like everything stops as the host looks at me askance, rolling his eyes no doubt at my current attire.

"I'm sorry Sir, but we're talking millions here, not thousands," he says almost exasperated.

"Ten million," I agree, shrugging.

Sisi is looking at me as if I'd grown a second head, while the entire room seems to be awfully quiet at my pronouncement.

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