Divine Milking System

Chapter 300: 300 | Mr. Monroe

"Potentially someone I should avoid knowing."

Belle’s expression shifted. The playful mockery disappeared, replaced by the sharp awareness that had kept her alive in gates despite her pathetic combat stats. Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Diamond-tier?"

"That would be my guess."

"Well, shit." Belle set down her fork with deliberate care. "Any particular reason Diamond-tier hunters are taking an interest in your breakfast routine?"

"Rapid advancement draws attention. Especially when it doesn’t follow conventional patterns."

Belle nodded slowly, her mind already working through the implications. "Right. Lottery winner shouldn’t be climbing rankings like someone with actual training and guild connections."

"Exactly."

The woman on the observation platform hadn’t moved. She stood there like a statue, her attention focused on our table with the kind of patience that suggested she had all day to watch and analyze. Professional surveillance. Not the angry confrontation I’d expected, but something far more unsettling.

"What’s the play?" Belle’s question came out casual, but her posture had shifted. Ready to move if necessary.

"Act normal. Eat breakfast. Attend classes. Don’t give her anything that doesn’t fit the standard lottery winner profile."

"And if she approaches?"

"Then we find out how good my acting skills are."

Belle resumed eating, but her movements carried new tension. "For the record, your acting skills are terrible. You have exactly two facial expressions: smug confidence and barely contained violence." fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

"Those cover most situations."

"Not situations that require subtlety, Monroe."

She had a point. Subtlety wasn’t exactly my strong suit. The past month had involved federal crimes, ability theft, essence extraction, and enough morally questionable decisions to fill a confession booth. Playing the role of harmless lottery winner might be beyond my current skill set.

My phone buzzed. Aurora.

"how’s the hangover, handsome?"

I typed back carefully, aware that every movement was being catalogued by professional eyes.

"what hangover? i feel incredible."

"liar. you barely slept."

"worth it."

"mmm. addison’s still unconscious. she’s going to be insufferable when she wakes up."

"good insufferable or bad insufferable?"

"the kind where she pretends she doesn’t care while secretly planning your wedding."

Belle read over my shoulder without shame. "Aurora’s got a point. Addison doesn’t do casual anything. If you broke through her defenses last night, she’s going to imprint on you like a baby duck."

"That’s not how imprinting works."

"You know what I mean."

The observation platform was empty now. Cassandra had vanished as quietly as she’d appeared, leaving nothing but the lingering sense that I was still being watched from somewhere else. Somewhere I couldn’t identify.

"She moved," Belle observed.

"Yeah."

"Could be anywhere now."

"Yeah."

Belle finished her pancakes and leaned back in her chair, studying my face with those sharp amber eyes. "You’re scared."

It wasn’t a question. Belle had gotten very good at reading people over the years, probably from necessity. When you’re physically weak and financially desperate, survival depends on knowing when someone’s about to screw you over.

"Concerned," I corrected.

"Same thing with better vocabulary."

She wasn’t wrong. Cassandra represented the kind of threat I couldn’t punch, seduce, or manipulate my way around. Diamond-tier hunters operated on a level that made my stolen abilities look like party tricks. If she decided I was worth investigating seriously, my carefully constructed cover story would evaporate under professional scrutiny.

The system had made me dangerous, but it hadn’t made me invisible.

"We should head to class," Belle said, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "Normal routine. Normal behavior."

"Right."

We stood together, moving toward the cafeteria exit with the casual pace of students who had nowhere more important to be. Belle fell into step beside me, close enough that her arm brushed mine. The contact looked casual, but I recognized it as support. Solidarity. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

The hallway outside buzzed with typical morning energy. Students moved between buildings, clustered around bulletin boards, complained about upcoming assignments. Everything perfectly, reassuringly normal.

Except for the woman in the expensive suit who stood near the entrance to the academic complex, checking her phone with the kind of casual attention that didn’t quite hide her real focus.

Cassandra had positioned herself between us and our destination.

"Subtle," Belle muttered.

"About as subtle as a brick through a window."

"What now?"

I considered our options. We could take a different route, but that would look like avoidance. We could approach directly, but that might prompt the kind of conversation I wasn’t prepared to have. Or we could stick to the plan and walk past her like she was just another faculty member checking her schedule.

"We walk past her. If she wants to talk, she’ll make it obvious."

"And if she does?"

"Then I try very hard not to say anything that sounds like a confession."

We approached the academic building entrance with deliberate normalcy. My posture stayed relaxed, my pace unhurried. Just another lottery winner heading to class with his friend, nothing more interesting than the dozens of other students making the same journey.

Cassandra looked up from her phone as we drew closer. Her eyes met mine for exactly three seconds, long enough to communicate recognition without accusation. She was older than Blair by maybe five years, with the same red hair and aristocratic bone structure, but where Blair’s beauty carried sharp edges, Cassandra’s was refined into something more dangerous. She looked like someone who could dismantle your entire life with a phone call and feel nothing more than mild satisfaction at a job well done.

"Mr. Monroe," she said as we passed.

Not a question. Not a greeting. Just acknowledgment that she knew exactly who I was.

I nodded politely. "Ma’am."

Belle’s arm pressed against mine, a silent reminder to keep walking. We made it through the entrance and into the hallway beyond before either of us spoke.

"That was terrifying," Belle whispered.

"Yeah."

"She knows something."

"Probably."

"What do we do?"

I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes until Nishimura’s lecture on fracture space ecology.

"We survive the day. Figure out what she wants. And hope like hell that whatever she knows isn’t enough to get me arrested."

Belle’s laugh held no humor. "Your life is exhausting, Monroe."

"Tell me something I don’t know."