Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain

After all, it was standard protocol for villains in powerful organizations to be instantly recognized by their subordinates.

The classic trope in any protagonist-centered story was this: the lower-ranked underlings of an organization would always fail to recognize the main character.

In fact, they might even go out of their way to mock him. Then, just as the tension reached its peak, a higher-up would appear, recognize the protagonist instantly, and the underlings would be left gaping in shock, realizing too late whom they had just provoked. At that moment, the protagonist’s display of dominance would be complete.

Sitting at the dimly lit bar, sipping an non-alcoholic drink, Alex couldn’t help but imagine a scenario that would elevate his mood.

He wished that, right now, some bold individual would stand up in the middle of the club and shout the classic line: "Tonight, all drinks are on me!" That would be quite the spectacle.

This wasn’t just any club; this was the most famous and high-end establishment in the City. A single night’s revenue could reach nearly hundreds of thousand. That sum wasn’t much to him, just spare change, really.

Taking a sip of his drink, he casually turned to the bartender and asked, "Have there been any new hires recently? Temporary staff, perhaps?"

The bartender, a short-haired young woman, was momentarily taken aback. It wasn’t every day that their boss personally struck up a conversation with her.

She quickly ran through her memory before answering, "There is one—Riley. She joined last week. But she doesn’t accompany guests for drinks. Lane takes good care of her."

A new hire, just last week. And she was already being looked after by the club’s manager? That was a strong indicator. Alex Reid narrowed his eyes slightly. Just to be sure, he asked, "Is she good-looking?"

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The bartender blinked in surprise before flashing a knowing smile. "She’s gorgeous. Riley is the campus from the University, and completely natural too. Word is, she took this job because she’s in desperate need of money."

Having worked at the bar for a while, the bartender had long since learned to read the room. She knew when to speak, and more importantly, what to say.

The moment the boss asked about a new hire’s appearance, she was certain, tonight, their boss wasn’t here just to drink.

That was precisely why, when answering his question, she had made sure to emphasize the words completely natural.

She had a decent relationship with Riley, but business was business. If the boss wanted something, well, that was just the way the world worked.

"Call Lane over," Alex Reid instructed.

Lane was the manager of his bar, as well as the person overseeing all of his nightclub businesses. If anyone knew the details about a particular employee, it would be Lane.

"Understood, boss." With that, the bartender gave a respectful nod before turning away to fetch Lane.

….

Near the bar counter, a young woman stood quietly, looking completely out of place in the dimly lit nightclub.

She wore the standard uniform of the club, but no matter how one looked at her, she didn’t belong here.

Her long black hair was neatly braided into twin plaits, and she wore large, black-framed glasses that gave her a bookish, innocent look.

Her demeanor was reserved, and there was a subtle nervousness in the way she held herself, as if she wasn’t quite sure where to stand.

A young man with bleached yellow hair swaggered over, a cigarette lazily hanging from the corner of his lips.

In one hand, he held a glass filled with a deep amber liquid, the strong scent of alchol rising from it. He leaned in close, smirking as he slid the drink toward her.

"Hey, gorgeous," he drawled. "Drink this, and I’ll drop another ten grand at your bar tonight."

The girl stiffened. Her hands instinctively clenched at the hem of her uniform as she hesitated. Finally, in a small, timid voice, she said, "Th-thank you… but I don’t drink."

The young man blinked, as if he had just heard something utterly ridiculous. Then, a second later, he let out a loud, mocking laugh.

"You don’t drink?" He repeated, incredulous. "Then what the hell are you doing working in a bar?"

"I… I’m just here to work," she murmured, lowering her head even further. Her voice was so soft that, in the midst of the club’s pounding electronic beats, it was nearly impossible to hear her.

The man’s expression darkened. His inebriated mind, clouded by both alcohol and arrogance, twisted her words into something offensive.

"The hell are you playing at? Acting like some innocent little girl," he sneered. "What kind of proper girl works in a bar, huh?"

He had already had quite a bit to drink, and now that a mere bar girl was daring to turn him down, his drunken pride flared. His grip on the glass tightened, and his eyes burned with irritation.

"I’m asking you one more time… are you drinking this or not?" His voice dropped, his tone carrying an unmistakable threat. "If you don’t drink, you’re disrespecting me."

"I…" Riley’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded as she instinctively took a step back, but the counter was already behind her. She had nowhere else to retreat.

This job paid handsomely to her per night—it was the best-paying work she had ever had. She couldn’t afford to lose it. It had been her roommate who helped her get this position, and she desperately needed the money.

But now, faced with the man’s aggressive stance and the oppressive weight of his gaze, her mind went blank. She didn’t know what to do.

Just as she felt herself cornered with no escape, a tall figure stepped smoothly between them.

A woman, dressed in a sleek black bodycon dress, stood with effortless authority between Riley and the drunkard.

"Well, well, well…. Sir," the woman said, her voice smooth yet ice-cold. "You’ve got some guts. Flirting with our club girls right under my nose?"

The moment the drunkard heard that voice, his drunken haze evaporated like smoke in the wind.

"L-Lane?" His breath hitched as a wave of sobriety hit him. "L-Lane… What are you doing here?"

Riley’s tense shoulders instantly relaxed. Relief flooded her chest, and for the first time all night, she felt safe.

Lane was a half-Russian, half-Chinese beauty. She had inherited the tall, statuesque figure of her Russian ancestry, paired with the delicate, refined facial features of the East.

She was the kind of woman who exuded a commanding presence just by standing there, elegant yet dangerously sharp.

With a casual motion, Lane pulled Riley behind her, placing herself squarely between the frightened girl and the drunk man.

As she did, her sharp gaze flickered to the side, as if glancing toward someone in the distance. A flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes.

But for now, her focus remained on the man before her. And she wasn’t amused. But she quickly regained the aura of a nightclub queen.

…

Bonus Chapters on: 500, 1000, 1500 Power Stones.

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(A/N: Next Chapter Soon! Some Golden tickets guys!!!)

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