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    In the Lithern Club, as the music red, the bar’s dim lights transformed into a mesmerizing disy of


    colors, casting an enchanting glow on the faces of the attractive crowd. The dance floor exuded an


    irresistible air of mystery and allure.


    With the rhythm of the music, the atmosphere on the dance floor reached its crescendo. The revelers


    gyrated and swayed, their movements infused with an ecstatic energy that intoxicated them.


    Meanwhile, in a secluded and soundproofed card room upstairs, an oasis of tranquility amidst the


    cacophony below, three out of the four upants leisurely puffed on their cigarettes. At the same time,


    one donned a mask, lending an air of paradox.


    Hackett had been having a remarkable streak of luck tonight. A mountain of chips towered before him


    as he sported a wicked grin. “Mr. Wilson, your luck seems to have deserted you tonight. I almost feel


    guilty for winning so effortlessly.”


    The man continued to ignore him, his mind wandering during the card game, inevitably leading to


    Hackett snatching victory. Thoughts of Natalie and her cold indifference gued him, ying on a loop


    in his mind like an unrelenting slideshow. He yearned to press the pause button, but his chest tightened


    with frustration.


    Despite finding Frank’s constant stream of messages utterly disdainful, he secretly engaged in the


    same behavior. Day after day, he persisted in sending messages and delivering meals, desperate to


    make his presence felt. However, that woman showed absolutely no inclination to acknowledge him.


    His letters vanished into thin air as if they were dropped in the ocean’s deepest depths, generating no


    waves of response. It was evident that he needed to adopt a different approach which was a bold


    confrontation.


    Unbeknownst to Hackett, Trevon was engrossed in contemting how to win back Natalie. Ignoring


    him only fueled Hackett’s determination. Today, he was in a good mood, and having a loving daughter


    seemed to bring him tremendous luck. He had never won such substantial money from Mr. Wilson


    before.


    With a cigarette delicately held between his fingers, Frank nced at the visibly troubled expression on


    Trevon’s face. “Missing Natalie, huh?”


    Trevon fixed Frank with a skeptical gaze. “Do you suddenly possess the power of mind–reading,


    Frank?”


    As for Natalie, Hackett suppressed his inner desires, opting to keep his secrets to himself.


    Just as their stomachs inconveniently growled, rumbling incessantly, a sudden string of tulence


    followed suit. The other three individuals simultaneously turned their gaze toward Hackett, their disgust


    evident on their faces, without bothering to


    conceal it


    Hackett had eaten a mishmash of food that day, and due to their proximity, practically anyone who took


    a breath could catch a whiff of an aromatic scent.


    Unable to bear the odor any longer, Frank held his breath and stood up. The stench was simply


    unbearable, nearly making him feel nauseated. “What the hell have you been eating?” he eximed,


    feeling as if the foul fragrance permeated his very


    mouth.


    Trevon extended his slender fingers to cover his mouth and nose, rising from his feet with a furrowed


    brow. Holding his breath, he swiftly opened a window, leaning closer to inhale the fresh air, ignoring


    Hackett.


    Jim, donning a mask, fared rtively better than the other two who were directly assaulted by the


    fragrance.


    Hackett awkwardly clutched his stomach, squeezing his buttocks, and mustered a sheepish apology.


    “Sorry… grumble, grumble, grumble.”


    Hackett thought to himself. It was beyond his control. It seemed inevitable. He hurriedly went to the


    restroom with one hand still covering his backside.


    The other three individuals had lost all interest in the card game. Trevon sternlymanded Jim.


    “Open the door.”


    Following the order, Jim approached the door and swung it wide open. A chilly gust of wind swept in at


    an angle, striking Trevon directly. In an unfortunate twist of fate, Hackett’s final emission met Trevon


    head–on, causing hisplexion to darken with an intense scowl. Holding his breath, he swiftly exited


    the room, followed closely by Frank, who couldn’t bear the situation any longer. Jim was thest to


    leave. The space was now empty, with only Hackett left inside the restroom.


    Just as Hackett stepped out, the room had already emptied, devoid of anyone else. Being a frequent


    visitor to the Lithern


    Club, he knew exactly where they had gone.


    As he was about to leave, his stomach protested again, growling incessantly. It seemed another urgent


    matter was at hand, so he hurriedly returned to the restroom.


    Engrossed in their conversation about the ongoing issues with themercial project, Trevon and


    Frank paid no heed to the repetitive back–and–forth sounds. They smoked their cigarettes, discussing


    matters rted to the business street. However, Jim sensed something was amiss. It had been half an


    hour, and Mr. ckwell seemed to have vanished.


    Feeling skeptical, Jim asked, “Mr. Wilson, should I check on Mr. ckwell?”


    Trevon lifted an eyebrow, casting a nce at Jim “Are you nning to deliver toilet paper? Just stay


    put. If he can’te


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    12:02


    out, he’ll give us a call. If he enjoys staying in there, let him be.” Trevon wondered if Mr. ckwell’s


    luck with money was indeed that good. He wanted to see if he could handle the losses.


    Unable to argue with Mr. Wilson, Jim reluctantly retook his seat, silently sympathizing with Mr.


    ckwell. Perhaps losing money was for the best in Mr. ckwell’s case,


    Suddenly, Frank’s phone rang. He nced at the screen, seeing that it was Hackett calling. A wider


    grin spread across his face. “Looks like he’s stuck in there.”


    N?vel(D)rama.Org''s content.


    Trevon pulled out a cigarette, a smirk forming on his lips. “Tell the manager to bring anti–diarrheal


    medicine to Hackett in the restroom”


    Jim silently thanked Trevon for not sending him to check on Hackett. “Alright.”


    After approximately an hour, Hackett leaned against the wall as he entered, his legs trembling. “Do


    you guys have any shame, leaving ine alone over there?”


    Trevon remained unfazed, his expression calm and distant. “Should I squat next to you then?”


    Jim couldn’t help but let out a suppressedugh, unable to contain his amusement.


    Hackett was undoubtedly drained due to the effects of the chili peppers. He slumped onto the nearby


    couch. Frank wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Take a seat on a chair. Don’t turn my couch into a stench–


    filled mess and disrupt my sleep”


    Once Hacketty down, he had no desire to move. He was too exhausted, having made countless trips


    to the restroom at least twenty times. “Damn it, I didn’t soil my pants again.”


    Frank couldn’t resist his biting tongue. “Who knows if you even had time to drop your trousers.


    Hackett exerted all his strength to flung a pillow toward Frank, but his agile hands deftly caught it.


    Trevon, everposed, couldn’t help but be curious about what had caused this predicament. “What


    did you eat tonight to give yourself such an explosive reaction?”


    This prompted Hackett to open up and vent his frustrations. “It’s all because of that woman, Sherri.


    She practically forced me to devour a massive bowl of chili peppers”


    The three individuals in the room knew that Hackett despised spicy food and typically avoided it. Their


    curiosity was piqued as they wondered what could drive someone who steered clear of spice to


    consume such arge bowl of chili peppers. Were his efforts an unconventional way of impressing


    Sherri?


    Frank couldn’t resist adding, “Are you nning to be blood brothers with Miss Landor? With chili


    peppers as your


    testament?”


    Hackett, feeling discontent, let out a string of profanities. “Damn it, she’s just out to mess with me.”


    Trevon, curious and with a hint of skepticism in his eyes, asked, “So you’re willingly allowing her to


    mess with you? Go back and entertain Frank in his damn restroom.”


    Hackett swiftly contemted a strategy to divert Trevon’s attention from the actual situation. He altered


    the narrative rather than revealing the truth, disying a facade of admiration. “Isn’t it all about


    demonstrating our respect for Natalie? She has a penchant for spicy cuisine, and I’m willingly


    sacrificing myself to apany her.”


    Upon hearing that Natalie enjoyed spicy food, Trevon recalled the scene of her devouring durian at


    Adare Manor. It wasn’t just spicy but also downright pungent. It seemned she had quite the penchant


    for spicy vors. Trevon silently considered the possibility of gradually developing his tolerance for


    spicy food, making mental ns. After all, epting chili peppers wouldn’t be out of the question.


    Maintaining a poker face, Trevon inquired, “Did you have dinner with her tonight?”


    Hackett couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction, showing no signs of holding back. “You got that


    right. And Miss Landor. I reckon you’re mighty envious.”


    With a yful tone, Trevon retorted, “Envious of your gastrointestinal adventure?


    Hackett fell silent, realizing he couldn’t outwit Trevon in a battle of words. He decided to refrain from


    arguing with a man consumed by jealousy By now, the manager’s anti–diarrheal medicine had


    provided significant relief, easing his urge to use


    the restroom


    Frank cut straight to the point, asking. “So, is this your strategy for pursuing Miss Landor?”


    With a slight sense of relief in his stomach, Hackett reclined on the couch, sping his hands behind


    his head. His legs felt weak, but he calmly responded, “Well, you could say that. Love means epting


    someone wholly, right? So, why not cater to her preferencey?”


    Jim exposed the apparent contradiction, sensing Mr. ckwell’s conflicting motives. “Mr. ckwell,


    didn’t you mention seeking revenge in your pursuit of Miss Landor? Why then go out of your way to


    amodate her tastes And in the process, you’ve even given yourself an upset stomach. It seems


    like you’re chasing after her at the risk of your well–being”


    Hackett was momentarily at a loss for words, unsure how to respond. He quickly spun a tale, not


    wanting to embarrass


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    12:02


    himself before his buddies. “Well, isn’t it about striking fast and infiltrating the enemy from within?


    Starting with their food


    preferences seems like the quickest way.”


    Jim couldn’t help but think, “Your approach to pursuing someone is quite unconventional. You’re willing


    to put your life on


    the line. Thankfully. Miss Landor enjoys spicy food. But what if she had a taste for something like


    durian, just like Mrs. Wilson? Would you go along with that too?”


    Trevon’s thoughts aligned with Jim’s. The woman had a liking for durian, but did that mean he had to


    force himself to like it


    too? It seemed no different from the nonsense Hackett was spouting. The thought left him with a


    momentary scowl.


    There had to be other ways to win someone’s heart. Hackett’s tactics weren’t for him, especially when


    they involved durian, a


    fruit he simply couldn’t stomach.