Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious - Chapter 227 - 15

Chapter 227: Chapter 15

At this moment, in a small, windowless room, a certain group were enjoying themselves.

The air here was thick with a toxic cocktail of expensive tobacco, cheap grain spirits, and the heavy, metallic scent of unwashed bodies.

A single, flickering fluorescent bulb hung from a frayed wire, casting jagged, sickly shadows across the peeling wallpaper.

In the center of the room, four young men sat around a mahjong table, the rhythmic *clack-clack* of the tiles providing a sharp, mechanical contrast to the low, guttural moans and the muffled sounds of the air-conditioning.

These people were students in name only, their school blazers draped over the backs of their chairs. Base on the uniform, they each came from different schools.

Around them, the floor was a sea of human degradation as dozens of young women were positioned on all fours, their bodies completely naked and shivering from the cold brought by the AC.

Each of these girls wore a heavy leather collar around their neck, attached to which was a small, brass tag engraved with a number.

It was as if they were no longer people in the eyes of these men, but mere furniture—ornaments of a sick, parasitic power dynamic.

At the center, one of the men, a bald, sleazy-looking individual, looking to be a leader, having a permanent sneer etched into his features, was the focal point of the cruelty.

He sat perched atop one of the women as if she were a common stool, his weight pressing into her spine.

He took a long drag from a filterless cigarette, his eyes narrowed in a haze of nicotine and arrogance.

Then, without breaking his gaze from his hand of tiles, he reached down and pressed the glowing, orange burn of his cigarette directly into the soft skin of the woman’s shoulder.

He held it there, the scent of singed flesh rising into the air, but the woman didn’t scream, she didn’t even flinch, and her eyes remained fixed on the floor, vacant and glazed, her expression a terrifying, marble-like blank.

If one were to look closely at her back and thighs, they would see a constellation of similar marks—countless circular burns in various stages of healing.

This is a proof that this wasn’t the first time he had used her as an ashtray, and in fact he had probably done it so often, and inflicted so much systematic trauma, that her nervous system had simply checked out.

Now, she was like a broken vessel, a hollow shell of a human being.

“Riichi,” the bald man muttered, sliding a tile forward.

A moment later, the game ended with a sharp slap of wood.

“Shit!” one of the other players cursed, slamming his hand onto the table. “I lost this round again. My luck is in the gutter tonight.”

“Hahaha! Pay up, loser!” the player to his left laughed, his eyes gleaming with greed. “I want Yuki-chan for the weekend. I heard you finally broke her in and trained her pretty well. I need a new footstool for my room.”

“Lame,” the player across from him drawled, leaning back and blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. “Give me Yuki-chan’s mother instead. I heard you’ve been breeding her like crazy to see if the ’stock’ holds up. What’s the count now? She had what, five abortions already this year? Lemme try my hand at it. I want to see if she still has any fight left in her.”

“Damn. I wanna try her as well,” the fourth player added, a sick grin spreading across his face. “Can she even still give birth after all that? Or is the plumbing ruined?”

“Of course she can!” the losing player replied, his voice a cold, prideful rasp. “I’ve been using some high-grade drugs to keep her fertile and her hormones spiked. I want her to keep getting pregnant. Let me tell you, there is no greater feeling than fucking a pregnant woman until she had an abortion.”

“Hahaha! You’re sick!”

“Still, drugs huh. Did you get the supply from that man? The one from the 20th District?”

“Yeah,” the losing player nodded. “Usually, these types of experimental drugs are nearly impossible to get. The Bully Society keeps a tight leash on people like us—they don’t like ’unauthorized’ competition in the pharmaceutical trade. But the Society is currently tearing itself apart from the inside. They’re so busy fighting against the Rebel Council and dealing with the loss of countless personnel and defected district leader that they don’t have any time, nor the manpower, to care about what we do in the shadows of the 24th District.”

“Heh. Forget about the Society. Have you heard the details of what happened to Mister?”

“Obviously,” the second player grunted, shuffling the mahjong tiles for the next round. “That’s old news already. Kageyama Seijirou and his little gang of ’Night Patrol’ freaks ended his entire inner circle. Wiped them out in a single night.”

“Indeed. I can’t believe they are actually that strong,” the bald man, the leader, mused, his expression turning thoughtful. “I always thought they were just a high-profile group of delinquents playing hero. Who knew they were so deeply related to the supernatural world as well? To take down an entire group possessing supernatural artifacts… that’s a different level of power.”

“Yeah. Still, it’s a pity for us,” the fourth player noted, his voice turning somber. “Mister was our main provider of high-quality girls and the refined drugs we use to keep them compliant. With him gone, our supply chain is hemorrhaging. We need to find another reliable supplier before the clients start getting restless.”

“I heard that guy from the 6th District—the one they call the ’Broker’—is quite reliable,” the second player suggested.

“I heard that too. We should send someone to contact him and make a deal. We need fresh meat and fresh chemicals if we want to expand into the 13th District.”

While the group was casually discussing the trafficking of human lives over their game, a frantic, heavy knock echoed at the reinforced metal door.

The sound was urgent, lacking the rhythmic code they usually required.

The bald man, his eyes flashing with a sudden, predatory sharpess, called out, “Come in!”

The door creaked open, and a younger man—a low-level lookout—stumbled in.

He was pale, his breathing ragged, and his eyes were wide with a frantic, stuttering terror while looking like a man who had just looked into his own grave.

Everyone at the table stopped, the mahjong tiles falling silent as they stared at him in confused irritation.

“What happened? You look like you’ve seen an angel,” the leader sneered, flicking ash onto the woman beneath him.

The messenger took a deep, shuddering breath, his hands trembling as he clutched the doorframe. “The… one of our primary bases of operations… the abandoned Otsuka Sanatorium… it was occupied by a tactical police unit twenty minutes ago! They’ve cordoned off the entire area! They… they found the ’cellar,’ Boss! They’ve already started pulling out the bodies we buried there!”

“WHAT!?”

The bald man surged to his feet, the woman beneath him collapsing as he kicked her aside as the mahjong table was nearly overturned as the other three players stood up in shock.

“That’s impossible! We poured fresh concrete over that patch just last week! And we also scattered that repellent powder!” one of them shouted. “No dog or sensor could have picked that up through the soot!”

“Exactly! And how come the police are so lax that they have the time to explore an abandoned hospital in the corner of the city!?”

The messenger shook his head frantically, sweat pouring down his face. “Apparently, Kageyama Seijirou and Kobayashi Rindou, for some unknown reason, decided to go ’exploring’ that place today. They found the entrance to the pit! And they are the one who informed the police!”

“Tsk. What a fucking coincidence,” the leader hissed, his face contorting into a mask of pure, concentrated malice.

He paced the small room, his boots stepping over the cowering women without notice.

“The police will surely start a massive investigation into the ’missing persons’ list now,” the second player whispered, the reality of the situation sinking in. “We won’t be able to act as freely as before. The heat is going to be unbearable.”

“Heh. Police? So what?” the third player tried to bluster, though his voice lacked conviction. “It’s not like this is the first time we’ve been investigated. With a bit of ’donated’ money to the right precinct and a few threats to the witnesses, we can make them look the other way just like always.”

The messenger shook his head, his voice cracking. “I… I don’t think that’s possible this time, sir. I checked the comms. The one leading the task force… the one who personally arrived at the scene… is Kobayashi Ieyasu.”

The room went deathly silent. Even the air seemed to grow colder at the mention of that name.

Kobayashi Ieyasu was a name that carried a weight of terror for the underworld.

He was known nationwide as the “Man of Steel”—a legendary investigator whose record was untainted by a single cent of corruption.

He was the one man who couldn’t be bought, couldn’t be bullied, and couldn’t be distracted.

If he were leading the investigation into the graveyard at the Sanatorium, it would be impossible to clean up their mess.

He would follow the breadcrumbs all the way to their front door.

Just then, the bald man stopped his pacing as he looked toward the door, his eyes narrowing as a dark, oily light flickered within his pupils—a faint, residual trace of something not entirely human.

“Forget the police for a moment,” the leader spoke, his voice turning eerily calm. “The one behind us—our ’Benefactor’—will handle the high-level politics and the police commissioner. For now, let us focus our attention on Kageyama Seijirou and Kobayashi Rindou. I have a feeling that their presence at that hospital was not just a mere coincidence. I think they’re hunting us… and if they do, then I believe it is the time we showed them what happens when you try to take the meat from a wolf’s mouth.”

He looked down at the woman on the floor, his face twisting into a dangerous, unnatural grin.

“Prepare the ’special’ batch. If that woman and Kageyama wants to be a hero, them we’ll give them a tragedy they’ll never forget.”