Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine - Chapter 133

Chapter 133: Butler’s Care, Spies From Afar
The helicopter sliced through the skyline like a gilded blade as its sleek, golden body glinted against the setting sun. The city below shimmered with lights, but nothing stood out more than the towering monolith that came into view—a structure so tall and imposing it seemed to pierce the clouds themselves.

Mantis Tower.

Its obsidian-black windows reflected streaks of the gentle moonlight, while golden trims along its edges pulsed faintly with embedded lights. The massive M logo near the top glimmered like a crown jewel, marking it as the property of none other than Golden Mantis, one of the most influential SS-tier heroes in the world.

From the plush interior of the helicopter, Scott leaned forward slightly and his eyes narrowed in awe as the tower grew larger in the window.

“Woah…”

He murmured under his breath, eyebrows raising gently.

“Isn’t that…?”

Beside him, Bella caught the flicker of genuine amazement on his face. She tilted her head slightly, folding her arms as a smug, but cute smile tugged at her glossy lips.

“Yes…”

She said proudly, her eyes half-lidding with confidence.

“I knew you’d like it. Heh.”

Then, with a slight flick of her golden hair, she closed her eyes, adding with casual arrogance.

“Middle-class people are always so easy to impress. Naturally, you’re no different.”

Scott’s expression shifted immediately.

His head turned slightly, casting her a sharp side-eye as his lips pressed into a flat, unimpressed line.

“Uh-huh.”

His voice was dry, unimpressed.

The verbal equivalent of an eye-roll.

Bella caught the look.

She knew that look.

She’d seen it a hundred times on faces that had tried to hide their irritation.

But with Scott… it felt different.

Less performative. More real.

And somehow, she liked that.

She turned away to hide the small, unbelievably adorable smile curling on her lips.

『Wow…』

She felt oddly excited between her legs.

It wasn’t a familiar sensation… but it was welcomed.

『No one’s ever been genuine like that around me.』

Her mind wandered, uninvited, to memories best left buried.

『Ugh, like Tyrone…』

She could still picture his forced indifference—how he’d tried so hard to act unfazed by her wealth, pretending that private jets and Michelin-starred dinners were just “whatever.”

But she’d seen right through it.

He didn’t care about her; he only cared about what she represented—a ticket to luxury. She remembered feeling bored, even irritated, like talking to an actor who kept forgetting his lines.

『Good thing Morgan saved me from that disaster…』

She glanced briefly toward the co-pilot seat.

Morgan had been a buffer during that awkward phase.

His stoic presence was like a security blanket—silent, masculine, reliable.

『God, I was so taken by Tyrone’s looks I didn’t even realize he had three baby mamas.』

She internally cringed.

『It’s a good thing things didn’t go anywhere.』

Her smile faded slightly and the sharpness dulled into something more fragile.

『Then again… things never really go anywhere with me and men, do they?』

She exhaled very softly, barely audible over the hum of the city below.

『I might look like the queen bee who’s got all the men dancing on strings… but honestly? I don’t even know what I’m looking for.』

She closed her eyes, letting that quiet confession echo in the back of her mind.

『What is my ideal man, anyway? I really want to know… or am I… am I… really that hard to love?』

She sighed—tired, but not defeated.

Then—

“We’ve landed.”

Morgan’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

He’d turned slightly from the co-pilot seat, glancing back at them with his usual cool, unreadable expression.

“If you’re done daydreaming, you might want to freshen up. The function starts soon on the 45th floor.”

Bella’s facade snapped right back into place. She plastered on her signature smile, vibrant and confident, as if none of those thoughts had ever crossed her mind.

“Alright.”

She chirped, standing gracefully as she adjusted the hem of her designer dress.

“Time to go.”

Without hesitation, she reached down, grabbed Scott’s arm, and tugged him to his feet. The sudden contact surprised him, but he didn’t resist. He simply stood, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, then cast her a quick glance as a faint smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

Before anything more could be said, the helicopter doors slid open with a soft hiss, and the cool evening breeze peacefully swept in.

Morgan cleared his throat dramatically.

The deep, deliberate sound cut through the low hum of the rotors as they wound down. He adjusted his bowtie with meticulous precision, his sharp, aged fingers gliding over the fabric like it was part of some sacred ritual.

Then he turned his head slightly.

His piercing gray eyes locked onto Bella with a serious, almost paternal look.

“Ahem… Miss Trevors…”

Morgan kept his tone formal, but authoritative.

“Would you excuse us for a moment? I’d like to have a small word with this young man here. Nothing serious—just following your father’s protocols.”

Bella froze mid-step as her high heels clicked softly against the helicopter floor as she pivoted back. She rolled her eyes with the grace of someone who had perfected the art of nonchalance.

“Whatever…”

She muttered, waving her hand dismissively as if brushing off invisible dust.

Reaching into her designer purse, she pulled out a compact makeup kit, flipping it open with practiced ease. Then, without even looking at Scott, she snapped her fingers sharply as the sound cut through the air like a whip.

“Hey, gentleman…”

She said sweetly, heavily leaning to sarcasm.

“When you’re done playing secret talks with Morgan, be a dear and bring my purse. I’m too tired to carry it myself, and rather than bother my guards… well, if you’re as chivalrous as you act, it’s only fitting you do it.”

Scott’s face scrunched up, his expression a perfect blend of disbelief and mild disgust. His lips parted slightly as if he was going to say something, but he wisely chose silence, settling for a sharp exhale through his nose.

Oblivious or perhaps simply indifferent to his reaction, Bella strutted out with the elegance of someone who’d never had to carry their own luggage.

Her bodyguards flanked her immediately.

Their postures were stiff and professional as they guided her across the helipad.

Morgan watched her go.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

But as soon as she was far enough from the helicopter, his expression shifted—like a curtain dropping between acts.

He turned back to Scott, his face now serene, almost gentle.

“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?”

Morgan said casually, his voice warm like old whiskey.

Scott couldn’t help but smile faintly, shaking his head.

“Yeah… definitely.”

But that warmth evaporated in an instant.

Morgan’s hand dipped into the inside of his suit jacket, and when it emerged, it carried a sleek, custom-made pistol—jet black with subtle gold engravings along the barrel. He rested it on his lap casually, like it was nothing more than a paperweight.

Scott’s eyes darted to the weapon, and instinctively, thin, blue tendrils of technophage began to pulse from the veins in his right arm, spreading like crackling circuits over his skin. His fingers twitched slightly, not out of fear, but readiness.

Morgan’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror to meet Scott’s eyes with cold precision.

“Strip…” Morgan said flatly.

Scott blinked.

The technophage slurped back into his veins almost comically fast, like a defensive mechanism retreating into its shell.

“… Wait. What?”

Morgan’s face remained carved from stone.

“I hate repeating myself… but I’ll make a very merciful exception. Strip.”

Scott tilted his head slightly, genuinely thrown off.

“Why?”

Morgan didn’t answer immediately.

His fingers tapped the side of the gun rhythmically.

It was like a subtle, unspoken countdown.

･･･

Across the city, perched on a distant rooftop…

Rope Girl lay prone with her elbows propped against the cool concrete as she peered through high-tech binoculars. The lenses adjusted automatically, zooming in with crisp clarity on the helicopter’s interior.

Beside her, Deathmark shifted uncomfortably.

Her arms crossed as she glanced between Rope Girl and the distant figures.

“…Are you sure this is the guy?”

Deathmark asked with heavy doubt in her voice.

Rope Girl didn’t look away from the binoculars.

“If I was sure, he’d be dead already…”

It was quite a cool reply.

“There’s no definitive proof… but considering the intel we got from Grave, the possibilities are high.”

Deathmark’s eyes widened slightly.

“Wait—Grave? You’re working with Grave?”

Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper.

“He’s an assassin! That’s like… the opposite of what we’re supposed to be doing!”

Rope Girl’s expression didn’t flinch. She finally glanced at Deathmark with a sharp, neutral gaze.

“The Hero Agency hired him to hunt down Nightwatch. He’s got experience with… people like that.”

She adjusted the binoculars slightly.

“I’ve been instructed to cooperate with him. Which includes all my subordinates.”

The words landed like a punch.

Deathmark lowered her head as her vibrant blue hair fell over her pretty face as she muttered softly.

“… Okay.”

Rope Girl gave a small nod.

Her eyes returned to the binoculars.

“Good. Now can we focus on what’s important?”

Deathmark didn’t respond.

Her shoulders tensed and her face remained sad.

“Yes, ma’am…”

･･･

Back in the helicopter…

Scott’s brow crumpled and his hand twitched slightly as he considered his next move.

“… Seriously, why do you want me to strip?”

Morgan’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, though his eyes remained deadly serious.

“What’s so hard about what I said? The reason I’m so interested in you stripping, young man, is because I’m a gay, old man and would like to see what that muscular, young body can do… is that wrong?”

“Bro…” Scott’s face went dead.

Morgan raised a brow.

“What’s the matter? Is it only women that get to taste some of that white chocolate? Quite unfortunate…”

“Dude… stop talking…”

“I’d much prefer you call me Morgana.”

“…”

Scott’s spine hit the seat with an audible thump as he recoiled. His brows furrowed, lips parting in stunned silence before he muttered under his breath.

“System…”

His voice was a tight whisper.

“You never told me anything about attracting the same friggin’ sex!”

There was a brief pause.

Then, with an infuriating calmness, the System answered in his mind.

[Host never asked.]

Scott’s eyes twitched.

His nostrils flared as he sucked in a sharp breath—

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Morgan erupted into laughter.

A deep, hearty, stomach-clutching kind of laughter that shook the entire helicopter. His shoulders trembled, and he even had to wipe away tears from the crinkles at the sides of his eyes. It went on for a long, long moment, until eventually—

“Eh?” Scott blurted out in confusion.

Morgan exhaled the last remnants of his amusement, patting his chest as he steadied himself. He gave Scott a small smirk, the last traces of laughter still in his tone.

“Relax, young man. I was just joking. Of course, I don’t have any… interests in you. Well—”

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk sharpening.

“—not in that sense, at least.”

Scott let out a long sigh of relief as his head tilted back against the seat.

“Christ, old man… you had me for a second.”

But Morgan’s expression was already shifting and the humor faded as something more measured took its place. His fingers traced along the barrel of his gun, adjusting it with a casual precision.

“Still, I remain very very interested in what kind of person you are.”

His voice was calm, but there was a weight behind it.

“Not in the way you’re thinking, of course. I just prefer to keep things short and go straight to the point.”

He lifted the gun, giving it a small, meticulous spin before resting it flat on his palm.

“You see… I never care about the men around Bella.”

He glanced at Scott through the rearview mirror, his gray eyes calculating.

“Because there’s never been a time when any of them were worth talking to. I can tell within five seconds.”

His gaze sharpened.

“But you?”

Silence stretched between them.

Scott exhaled softly, letting his fingers run over his pant leg as he sat up straighter.

“You’re wondering what my plans with Bella are.”

His voice was calm, eerily so.

“Am I planning to use her for money? For clout? Maybe to boost my status as a rising star in the modeling industry?”

Morgan’s expression didn’t change, but Scott saw it—the slight flicker in his eyes.

The young man smiled, a slow, smooth curve of his lips.

“Because let’s be honest…”

His voice dropped slightly.

“Bella’s inexperienced in love. I could easily manipulate her into becoming a lovestruck puppy that hangs onto my every word.”

Morgan’s gun spun once more. This time, it fluidly stopped—barrel pointing directly at Scott’s head.

Yet Scott… didn’t even blink.

Morgan’s gaze remained locked on the rearview mirror, watching for the telltale signs of fear.

A twitch. A flinch. A swallow.

Nothing.

The young man just smiled.

That same unsettling, calm smile.

“Is that some kind of threat?” Morgan asked smoothly.

Scott dusted off his suit sleeve, but his voice was still frustratingly unbothered.

“Not really. More of a bragging right.”

His eyes flicked to the older man, still carrying that infuriating smirk.

“I just want you to understand that I can cause problems too. Worse than you can imagine.”

Silence again.

Then—

Scott exhaled lightly, straightening his cuffs as he stood.

He stepped down from the helicopter with ease, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Before leaving, he glanced back at the still-seated butler.

“Oh, and Morgana—”

His smirk twitched.

“Be a dear and bring Bella’s purse while you’re at it. Don’t keep us waiting.”

With a casual wave—without even looking back—Scott strolled off into the night.

Morgan remained seated, gun still in hand.

His expression was unreadable.

From a distant rooftop, Rope Girl narrowed her eyes.

She lowered her binoculars slightly and watched as Scott disappeared into the city.

“Hrmm… very suspicious.”

Her voice was quiet, thoughtful.

“What could he have to do with Nightwatch Suspect #1?”

Deathmark, beside her, shifted uneasily.

『I can’t believe that’s… Nightwatch…』