NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 119

Chapter 119: All Are The Same!

“OH MY GOD! IS THAT A GO—MMPHH!!”

The boy, wide-eyed and vibrating with excitement, was about to scream so loud he might’ve summoned the gods themselves—but his mother was faster.

With the reflexes of a battle-hardened warrior, she clamped a firm hand over his mouth, effectively silencing his outburst before it could attract the wrong kind of attention—like a gang of desperate cutthroats or a tax collector.

“Shut it, Rai!”

She hissed, her eyes darting around the marketplace like a paranoid fugitive.

“It’s just a copper coin! Why are you screaming like you’ve seen a golden dragon taking a shit in the square?!”

Her grip tightened on his mouth, muffling his protests as he kicked his little legs like a fish out of water.

The kid wasn’t even struggling because he was scared—he was just pissed that his precious moment of awe had been ruined.

The mother, however, was sweating bullets.

She knew exactly how these things worked. One loud noise, one stupid mistake, and suddenly—BAM!—every shady bastard in the vicinity would turn their heads like bloodhounds sniffing out prey.

And right now?

There was a rich man in her shop.

Not just any rich man—one that actually had the decency to be discreet about his wealth.

Unlike those pompous, ass-faced nobles who practically swung their coin purses around like they were inviting people to rob them, and of course, she says no to their business, this guy knew how to keep things low-key.

He had subtly flashed the coin at her—quick, efficient, not a single unnecessary flex.

A rare breed of customer.

Rich men always came to her stall, their pockets jingling with coins they had no right to flaunt so recklessly.

First, they’d wave their fancy silver like they were blessing the poor with their divine wealth, pointing at this flower and that flower with the air of a man who’s never had to haggle for a loaf of bread in his life.

Then—oh, then—the audacity reached its climax.

With the same slimy smirk, they’d point at her.

As if she were just another flower on display.

“How much for a night?” they’d purr, their silver flashing like a beacon for every desperate thief in a five-mile radius.

And that was the real problem.

It wasn’t just the disgusting proposition—which she would sooner accept death than agree to.

It was the utter stupidity of waving money around in a place where people would kill for a crumb of stale bread.

Accepting a rich man’s coin was like painting a target on her back, a giant glowing sign that screamed ‘ROB ME AND MY FAMILY WHILE WE SLEEP!’

She knew how this played out.

If she so much as touched that silver, the second she closed up shop for the night—BAM!—some back-alley bastard with a rusty knife would be waiting to gut her entire family for it.

And for what? A single silver piece? Not fucking worth it.

So, she did what any sane, self-preserving woman would do.

She’d raise her hand, put on the fakest, most polite smile known to mankind, and loudly declare that she refused to do business with such an idiot.

It was the only way to survive in a place where greed got people killed.

Which is exactly what she was about to do now—except this one, for once in her miserable life, actually had some damn sense.

This one was different.

He wasn’t some clueless noble parading his coin like his cock was made of gold.

No, he was careful. Smart.

Instead of flaunting his wealth, he kept the gold coin hidden in his palm, flashing it just long enough for her to see but not long enough for anyone else to notice.

A rare fucking sight.

Still, she couldn’t risk it.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we cannot accept this here.”

She said, her voice a little too sweet, like honey masking arsenic.

She glanced down at the coin—not copper. Not even silver.

Gold. Fucking gold.

Her soul momentarily left her body.

A whole-ass gold coin for a seven-copper flower?!

She nearly choked on her own saliva. This wasn’t just overpaying. This was robbery in reverse.

Her eyes flickered up to him. Was he insane? Was he trying to get her murdered before sunset? Or does he want something else….

She forced herself to remain calm—or at least as calm as a woman clutching enough money to buy her entire neighborhood could be.

“I don’t have an enormous amount of coin to give change for a seven-copper flower, sir.”

She said smoothly, bowing as she discreetly held out the gold coin, her fingers curled around it so tightly it could’ve been mistaken for a lover’s embrace.

Not a single shimmer escaped through the cracks of her fist.

Nobody. Would. See. A. Damn. Thing.

If he was smart enough to hide his wealth, then by the gods, she would not be the fool who exposed it.

‘Here it comes.’

She thought, knowing very well how this was going to play out.

He was going to say, “How about I buy all of these flowers?”

Then she’d tell him that even if he bought every last petal, leaf, and twig, it still wouldn’t add up to a whole damn gold coin.

And then—oh, then, the sleaze would drip from his lips like grease from an overcooked roast.

“How about you, then? Do you cover for this coin?”

She could already hear the smug chuckle. Could already see the sleazy half-lidded stare, like she was some exotic delicacy to be sampled along with the flowers.

Men. Were. All. The. Same…Except for some one, that was….

It didn’t matter if they came with silver, gold, or the stank of two-week-old unwashed balls.

A man with money saw a struggling woman and thought, “Ah, a bargain waiting to happen.”

But gold?

No. No, no, no, no golden boy in his right mind would come here when they had perfectly curated, perfumed flower shops inside the city.

The only reason a man with gold would be in this part of town was if he had a death wish or a dick problem.

So, when the golden boy—or should she say, golden idiot—finally spoke, she had to force her face into a well-practiced expression of patient tolerance.