Surviving In This Filthy World As A Novel Villain - Chapter 97
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- Chapter 97 - Chapter 97: Getting Help From The Target
Chapter 97: Getting Help From The Target
Ethan Carter had barely stepped outside in days. The humiliation he had suffered at Alex Reid’s hands yet again still burned fresh in his mind.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! How… how… how the hell is this happening?!” His hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening as rage bubbled within him.
“Just how it’s happening?” Ethan couldn’t wrap his mind around it. But like something happened he calmed down instantly and his confidence that was just shattered built up again in him.
As he once again after getting so many humiliations one after another and one after another… like those things didn’t give him a sign and even if they did and his all past failures he built up those things as grudges… which then directed at Alex Reid.
“I’ll make him pay for this… I swear I will!” And just like that as quickly as the anger flared, it began to simmer beneath the surface of doubt.
“Damn it… But who can I turn to now?” One by one, the people he might have called upon had been dealt with by Alex—cut off or forced to submit. Each closed door felt like another wall pressing him into a corner.
“Is he really going to force me onto a dead end?” As Ethan wrestled with his frustration, the sharp ring of his phone echoed through the room. The sudden interruption made him jolt upright.
“Who the hell—” taking out the phone, he glanced at the screen before answering.
“Hello?”
“Good evening. Am I speaking to Mr. Ethan?” The voice on the other end was familiar, deep and measured, with the faintest hint of amusement. Ethan’s eyes narrowed in recognition.
“…Mr. Edwin Wells?”
A soft chuckle drifted through the receiver. “Ah, Mr. Ethan, what sharp ears you have.” Ethan sat up straighter, his pulse quickening as possibilities began to unfold in his mind.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Mr. Edwin?”
“Let’s just say… I’ve taken an interest in your recent situation. After looking into what happened at Reid Industries, it’s clear that you were merely caught in the crossfire of someone else’s schemes—namely, Trisha Wells.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of his former ally, though he quickly masked the reaction with a neutral tone.
“Is that so?”
“Indeed. Now, if you bear no grudge over that unfortunate incident, I’d like to extend an invitation to meet. There are certain matters I believe we could discuss to our mutual benefit.”
“…And where would that be?”
“The xxxxx Hall. Private Suite 964. I’ll be waiting.”
Before Ethan could respond, the line went dead. He lowered the phone slowly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Hah… If I can secure the Wells family’s support, It is not just a granddaughter or daughter of Wells family but the Head of the family itself.”
Without hesitation, Ethan rushed to change into a sharp tailored suit, the glint of anticipation flashing in his eyes.
….
Twenty minutes later, Ethan’s black rental car pulled up in front of the grand entrance of the xxxxx Hall. Its golden-lit facade loomed above him as uniformed attendants bowed and opened the doors.
Ethan stepped out, adjusted his cufflinks, and strode confidently into the building.
On the ninth floor, Suite 964 stood at the end of a carpeted hallway adorned with intricate chandeliers and paintings that whispered of wealth and power.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Ethan stepped inside.
The air carried the faint aroma of aged wine and freshly cooked delicacies. Beneath the soft glow of amber lighting, an old man sat calmly at the head of the table, a selection of fine dishes and wine already arranged before him.
As soon as Ethan Carter stepped into the private suite, the old man stood up with a broad smile.
“Ethan, I’ve been waiting for you!” His tone was warm, almost too welcoming. Ethan’s heart swelled with pride.
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‘See? I knew it—someone like me wouldn’t be cornered by the likes of Alex Reid!’
Although inwardly elated, Ethan maintained a composed demeanor as he approached the table.
“You’re too kind, Sir,” he replied, taking a seat opposite The old man. His eyes flicked toward Edwin, who sat quietly beside his grandfather.
The old man’s gaze was sharp, but his expression revealed nothing.
“So… may I ask what this meeting is about?” Ethan inquired casually, though anticipation stirred beneath his calm exterior.
The old man chuckled softly, pouring a glass of wine and sliding it across the table.
“Straight to the point, I see. Well, to be honest, we could use your expertise, boy.”
“My expertise?” Ethan raised an eyebrow.
“Indeed. I’ve heard you’re skilled in martial arts and quite knowledgeable in Fortune skill as well—a rare combination for someone so young. Given your talents, we’d like your assistance in… handling a certain individual.”
The old man’s hand made a swift slicing motion across his throat, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.
Ethan’s eyes widened slightly before a surge of exhilaration rushed through him.
‘The Wells family needs my help? And that too in ‘finishing’ an individual… If I pull this off, I’ll have their backing.’
Suppressing the grin threatening to break across his face, Ethan responded with a measured nod.
“Since Sir holds me in such high regard… how could I possibly refuse? May I ask what the plan is?” The old man leaned forward, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves might be listening.
“Actually, we don’t need you to act directly. Our people will handle the job tonight—out in the hills beyond the city author. The target is skilled and more like a ‘cockroach’ that is why we need someone so young with so much talent and skills to review the location and advise us on the best strategy to ensure success.”
“Cockroach?!”
“Yes! And Of course you will be paid the worth of your trouble in this matter.”
‘That is some… unknown and unusual remark… does that mean the target survives any situation and is resilient like a cockroach?!’
Before he could think more or come to any conclusion about something.
From his inner coat pocket, The old man took out a photograph and slid it across the table.
Ethan picked it up and examined the image—a stretch of uneven terrain, mostly open with sparse cover.
At first glance, it seemed like a straightforward spot with few places to hide. But Ethan’s sharp eyes quickly picked out the details others might miss.
…
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