Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 320: Let’s Talk Business

Chapter 320: Let’s Talk Business

Phelixes opened his eyes, only to witness a stomach-turning scene unfold before him.

He frowned deeply, his brows practically fused together, and remained that way until Serena’s anguished screams finally died down.

Serena, pale and trembling, kicked the man away and hurriedly dressed, her whole body quaking. She didn’t dare glance toward the corner where Phelixes sat.

With a shaking hand, she tossed a stack of cash onto the bed.

"This time, I’m taking two!" she declared, her voice laced with suppressed fury.

The disheveled man, Jerome, picked up the money and barely glanced at it before tossing it aside. Leisurely, he lit a cigarette.

"This time, I’m raising the price by fifty percent," he said casually. "You can take one child. If you want two, you’ll either need to pay the difference—or cut one of them in half and take one of the two pieces."

Serena’s body trembled with rage, but she didn’t bother wiping away the streak of deep red blood trickling down her leg. She seemed long accustomed to such humiliation, as though it no longer mattered.

"Jerome! You’re breaking your promise!" she snapped, her voice thick with anger. Grabbing a handful of powder, she flung it at him.

Jerome simply inhaled deeply, a satisfied expression crossing his face. "Ah, this poison’s potency is impressive," he said with amusement.

Gripping her chin tightly, Jerome’s fingers dug into her pale face. "Serena, just say the word. Join me, and I’ll give you anything you want."

"Get lost!" Serena shoved him away, her voice trembling with disgust. "I’d rather die than follow you disgusting pig!"

She snatched the extra money off the bed. "I’m taking Sherry with me!"

Facing Jerome’s unrelenting pressure, she didn’t even bother arguing further. She knew it was pointless.

Serena tried to leave with her head held high, but her steps faltered, a painful stagger giving her away. She briefly glanced at Phelixes, who sat with his head bowed, and forced herself to walk steadily out of the room.

Jerome turned his attention to Phelixes, his rancid breath fouling the air.

"What a fiery young woman," Jerome mused with a sinister grin. "And her poisons are remarkable. Quite the talent." He extended a hand toward Phelixes. "Apologies if I startled you."

Phelixes slapped his hand away. "What do you want?"

Jerome feigned surprise. "Didn’t my men tell you? I’m here to talk about that level-six energy stone mine."

A flicker of something dark passed through Phelixes’s eyes. "Your approach feels less like a business proposal and more like a robbery."

"Call it what you want," Jerome said with a smirk. "You can ask around about my past. I wasn’t exactly a saint. Negotiating with a level seven like you? I don’t need to play nice."

Unexpectedly, Phelixes chuckled.

Despite being captured and restrained, he showed no sign of panic. Instead, he crossed his arms and sat comfortably, legs folded. "If you want to talk business, you shouldn’t be talking to me."

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass filled the room. A cold wind blew in, carrying snowflakes that scattered across the floor.

Lyra appeared, standing lightly on the windowsill. Her slender legs, clad in round-toed leather boots, rested gracefully on the edge.

Her scorpion-tail braid hung to her knees, and she gripped the window frame with precision, her posture as still and emotionless as a machine.

Her voice was icy. "Why not talk business with me instead?"

Jerome’s eyes widened in shock. "Damn it—she’s a level nine!"

Phelixes’ lips curved into a faint smile. "He hurt me," he said in a voice tinged with mock petulance, reminiscent of his younger self.

Jerome reacted instantly, his hands turning jet black as he lunged toward her.

Lyra moved fluidly, pushing off the window with a light kick and landing effortlessly on the coffee table.

Jerome’s claws tore through the air with a screech, leaving deep, dark purple gashes on the pristine white wall. The acrid stench of poison filled the room.

Without a word, Lyra pointed her fingers at him, and countless ice spikes shot toward Jerome.

His claws glowed with an ominous black light, slashing through the incoming shards with rapid movements.

The ice hissed on contact, evaporating into a poisonous cloud—a chilling testament to the potency of his venom.

Phelixes’s expression turned grim. Now he understood how Jerome had managed to secure the mining rights for Planet Royce.

This wasn’t just another thug—Jerome was a level nine.

The government likely couldn’t suppress him completely, so they had struck a "token" agreement. By giving Jerome a position as a contractor, they let him handle the dirty work while everyone shared the profits, conveniently ignoring his other dealings.

Jerome, sensing the shift in the situation, ceased his attack. Disabling his superpower, he adjusted his disheveled clothes and plastered on a conciliatory smile. "I seem to have misjudged the situation. A misunderstanding, nothing more."

Lyra didn’t respond, her icy gaze boring into him.

Phelixes, however, smirked faintly. "Just a misunderstanding? Surely you don’t think it’s that easy to brush this off."

Jerome gritted his teeth, inwardly cursing the exchange hall manager. That fool had mistaken Phelixes for the leader of the pair, leading Jerome to target the wrong person.

Had he known Lyra was a level nine, he would have approached this very differently. Now, as the chill radiating from her grew even colder, Jerome swallowed his pride. "How might I make amends?"

He was prepared to compromise—not out of fear but because his goals revolved around profit, not conflict. A full-blown fight would leave both sides badly damaged, giving the government the perfect excuse to swoop in and seize everything.

"I want a spacecraft," Lyra said coldly.

Jerome’s eyes gleamed with understanding. "If you’re planning to leave, I could arrange for a caravan to escort you."

Before she could refuse, he added, "The situation’s been tense lately. The war has escalated, and the Empire has increased security internally and along routes to the Alliance. Without a pass, even if I gave you a spacecraft, you wouldn’t get far."

His warning wasn’t an exaggeration. The heightened patrols weren’t just about the war—they were also meant to intercept spies from the Alliance. Traveling without a pass risked getting stranded in the void of space.

Lyra lowered her gaze, considering his words.

The Empire and the Alliance were separated by countless star systems, and even with the star maps she’d calculated earlier, less than half of the route was covered.

"No," she said firmly, "I want the spacecraft."

Jerome hesitated but ultimately relented, the prospect of the level-six energy stone mine tipping the scales. "Fine. It’s yours."

He dispatched his men to retrieve a ten-passenger spacecraft from the warehouse.

After a thorough inspection for hidden faults or sabotage, Lyra stored the craft in her Space Button.

Jerome’s composure faltered for a moment. A Space Button capable of holding a spacecraft was far more valuable than the ship itself.

Curiosity gnawed at him. Lyra didn’t seem like someone lacking resources, so he wondered why she was so insistent on getting a spacecraft?

His earlier warnings echoed in his mind. If she was planning to return home... But then it struck him—Lyra had never explicitly claimed to be from the Empire.

Jerome’s thoughts turned to the town’s facial recognition system. Accessing its data required official clearance, which he lacked.

’Fine,’ he thought. ’If I can’t confirm her identity now, I’ll stall her for a couple of days.’

"Miss...?" Jerome began, fishing for her name.

"Freya," Lyra replied smoothly, using her alias.

Phelixes twitched slightly at the mention of the fake name but said nothing, instead standing and moving closer to Lyra.

Jerome forced a smile. "Miss Freya, about the level-six energy stone mine—what’s your proposal?"

"It’s just a mine," Lyra said indifferently. "I’ll take you there. We split it fifty-fifty."

Jerome’s focus sharpened. "Only fifty percent for all the effort and risks on my end? You’re simply providing the location, and I’m supposed to handle everything else? That hardly seems fair."

Lyra’s tone didn’t waver. "Without me, you wouldn’t even have the opportunity to expend that effort."

After some negotiation, they agreed on a 70-30 split in Jerome’s favor.

Lyra arranged for their departure in two days and left with Phelixes.

Back at the inn, Phelixes’ concern was evident. "How are we going to get the star map we need?"

He could guess Lyra’s plan. First, they’d secure the map. Then, they’d use Jerome’s caravan to reach the start of the mapped route. From there, they’d find a way to slip away.

Lyra’s gaze shifted to the girl in the back courtyard, working quietly in the storage room.

"I have someone in mind," she said.