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BOOM—!
The smug smile on Vic's face froze and shattered instantly, replaced by an explosive redness of being thoroughly exposed!
"No... no way! Sister Mavis she... she's lying! That is slander!"
Vic stiffened his neck, trying to argue, but he was incoherent, his eyes flickering wildly. His "battle-hardened veteran" posture vanished without a trace, leaving him looking like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"Oh? Is that so?"
Wednesday crossed her arms slowly. The blush on her pale face hadn't completely faded, but it only added a touch of teasing beauty.
"How about this—"
Her voice was cool, but her fingertips carried an unquestionable force as she precisely pulled the Succubus Seduction Guide: Authentic Han Dynasty Edition out from the depths of Vic's backpack again.
Her slender, pale finger pointed to a paragraph densely packed with text describing details that would make anyone blush.
"I will not make it difficult for you. Here, read this paragraph aloud."
Vic froze for a second. Then, as if some strange competitive spirit had been triggered, he stiffened his neck and snatched the book.
"Fine! I'll read it! What's so hard about that!"
He tried to make his tone sound disdainful and relaxed, but the slight tremor at the end betrayed him.
Steel-ing himself, his gaze landed on the flamboyant yet vividly detailed sentences. He began to stammer:
"The... the Way of Harmony between Yin and Yang values... values the spiritual tongue as a bridge, lips and teeth depending on each other, breath mingling... uh..."
Vic paused, his Adam's apple bobbing unnaturally. He felt his cheeks start to burn.
"...palms pressing close, must... must slowly explore the round... uh, curves, feeling the... the faintly throbbing vitality beneath..."
His voice got lower and lower, becoming muddled, as if he had a hot stone in his mouth.
Every word spat out seemed to ignite a small, ambiguous flame in the confined space of the car.
The atmosphere quietly became thick and pink, the air filled with an indescribable heat.
Beside him, Enid was already blushing, her heart racing. Her blue eyes shimmered with water.
She subconsciously pressed her legs together, hands gripping the hem of her shirt tightly. Fine beads of sweat even appeared on her small nose.
She couldn't help but steal glances at Vic, then look away quickly. Her heartbeat felt loud enough to drown out Vic's torturous reading.
As for the instigator, Wednesday, she maintained an iceberg-like calm on the surface, staring straight ahead.
She seemed focused on admiring the unremarkable green belt rushing past the window.
But her slightly tightened jawline, the crimson quietly spreading to her delicate ears, and her fingertips unconsciously stroking her dress exposed that her heart was anything but calm.
A strange, unfamiliar heat flowed through her usually cold limbs along with Vic's stammering but clear recitation.
Inside, drums of war were beating. She was caught between shame and annoyance, but she was too embarrassed to call a stop first—
That would be tantamount to admitting defeat.
She could only hold on, secretly hoping Vic would succumb to the shame and stop on his own.
Vic, meanwhile, was in deep water.
The content in the book was getting more explicit, the descriptions more... visual and instructive.
He felt like a potato being slow-roasted over a fire. Every second was torture.
The only thing keeping him reading was a stubborn refusal to admit cowardice in front of his girlfriends.
His inner voice was screaming madly: Stop me, Wednesday! Say anything to interrupt me! Please!
Thus, a dramatic scene unfolded:
One pretending to be calm, waiting for the other to break;
One forcing himself to continue, praying for an interruption;
And the third completely drowning in shame and inexplicable throbbing, unable to extricate herself.
The three of them seemed trapped by invisible threads in this increasingly pink, increasingly scorching enclosed space.
Vic's voice was now as faint as a mosquito's hum, practically whispering the blush-inducing "cultivation methods" with breathy tones.
He was as red as a freshly cooked, steaming drunken shrimp, looking like he might overheat and faint at any moment.
Enid had long since buried her burning face in her knees, revealing only a pair of watery blue eyes peeking at Vic and Wednesday. Her shoulders shook slightly—whether from laughter or shyness, it was unclear.
And Wednesday... her pale skin was finally, thoroughly stained with a breathtaking crimson, even down to her neck.
She was reaching her limit. Wednesday raised her hand abruptly, seeming to want to stop Vic.
But her fingers paused in mid-air. Ultimately, she just grabbed a bottle of cold water nearby, threw her head back, and chugged several mouthfuls—glug, glug—as if trying to douse the fire rising in her throat.
The cold liquid slid down, but it seemed to make her cheeks burn even hotter.
Just as the atmosphere was about to reach critical mass—
Screech—
With a smooth brake, the car stopped at the airport departure entrance.
Valmont's respectful voice came from the front, carrying a deliberately trained calmness, as if he had heard absolutely nothing:
"Mr. Vic, we have arrived at the airport."
This voice was like the song of an angel, instantly shattering the solidifying pink bubble in the car.
Vic felt like he had been granted amnesty. Snap! He closed the book as fast as if it had burned his hand, exhaling a long breath like a survivor of an extreme challenge.
Enid lifted her head, patting her still-hot cheeks, mumbling softly: "We're here..."
Wednesday quickly put down the water bottle, restoring her icy demeanor. Only the slightly hurried adjustment of her collar betrayed her haste.
The three exchanged glances, then looked away quickly. Blushes lingered on all their cheeks as they tacitly chose never to speak of what just happened.
But the subtle atmosphere—a mix of embarrassment, ambiguity, and inexplicable throbbing—lingered in the air.
Vic looked up, past the blushing Enid and the feigning-calm Wednesday, landing on Valmont in the driver's seat. His back was straight, seemingly cut off from the world.
In this moment, Vic felt Valmont was practically radiating an angelic glow!
He leaned forward, patting Valmont's shoulder hard and gratefully. His tone was full of survivor's relief and genuine praise:
"Valmont! beautiful work! You are good, very, very good!"
Valmont jolted slightly, as if just waking from a "focused driving" trance.
He turned around, wearing a perfectly respectful smile laced with a hint of confusion.
As if he hadn't heard the face-melting "academic recitation" in the backseat at all.
"You flatter me, Mr. Vic. delivering you and the ladies safely and on time is my duty."
Valmont's voice was steady, his expression flawlessly sincere.
This acting! This professionalism! Vic gave Valmont ten thousand thumbs-up in his heart.
Who said this guy was useless?
At critical moments, this ability to play dumb and save the boss's face was top-tier assistant material!
Feeling happy and having just escaped the crisis of "social death," Vic felt he should reward him heavily.
"Ahem."
Vic cleared his throat, trying to make his tone sound like the result of deep deliberation.
"I've been thinking, Valmont. You were once... well, you are now managing affairs for a region. You need to maintain appearances. A private jet is quite necessary; it represents our organization's image, after all!"
Saying this, he pulled out a heavy, bulging leather bag and tossed it casually to Valmont.
The moment the bag landed in his hands, the shocking weight made the unprepared Valmont's arms sink sharply. His waist bent with the force, nearly throwing his back out.
"Th... this is?"
Valmont asked subconsciously, his arms trembling slightly from the strain.
"Oh, just a little token."
Vic waved his hand.
"Consider it your year-end bonus. Ancient gold coins from Atlantis. The purity is decent; it should be enough for you to get a nice private jet."
"Gold... Gold coins?! Ancient coins from Atlantis?!"
Valmont's eyes bulged like copper bells, his breathing quickening.
In that instant, a miracle happened!
A mysterious, powerful force seemed to surge from his core, instantly flowing through his limbs!
His waist, bent by the weight, snapped straight swish. His trembling arms became steady as rock. Even his legs, weak from nervousness earlier, filled with strength!
Back doesn't ache, legs don't hurt, hands don't shake!
Valmont hugged the bag of gold coins tightly, like hugging a long-lost son.
His face flushed with excitement. He gave Vic a deep, ninety-degree bow, his voice booming with heartfelt loyalty and drive:
"Thank you, Boss! Boss is wise! Valmont will not let you down and will handle the jet matter ASAP! Loyalty!"
His volume made passersby at the airport entrance look over.
Vic nodded with satisfaction. He turned to look at Enid and Wednesday, who had calmed down slightly though their blushes hadn't fully faded.
"Shall we?" He extended his hand, wearing a slightly fawning smile, trying to turn the page.
Enid glared at him coquettishly but put her hand in his, giving him a pinch with her fingertips.
Wednesday just glanced at him coolly and got out of the car first. Her aloof back seemed to say, "We are not done with what just happened."
The three walked side-by-side toward the airport terminal, their shadows stretching in the sunlight. Although remnants of the awkward atmosphere lingered, a new journey had begun.
Valmont remained in his bowing posture until the trio disappeared behind the glass doors. Only then did he slowly straighten up.
He carefully patted the gold bag in his arms, a brilliant smile full of hope for the future on his face. Following Boss Vic really means a limitless future!
He thought happily, seriously considering whether to buy a Boeing or an Airbus. Or... why not both? The Boss clearly had money to burn!
(End of Volume 2)