Madam, Please Behave
Chapter 430: Fishing

Hearing noises outside his door, the man froze momentarily before closing his laptop and placing it on the bedside table. He rolled out of bed and headed toward the entrance.

He reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

But when the door swung open, he didn't see any maintenance workers—instead, four thuggish-looking young men stood there.

They appeared to be in their early twenties.

The man was clearly bewildered by the group in front of him, but before he could even ask anything, the four outside rushed in the moment the door opened.

Two of them immediately grabbed his arms, one on each side.

Another moved behind him and locked an arm around his neck.

The last one lifted his foot and kicked hard into the man's abdomen.

The force was brutal, holding nothing back.

A sharp pain shot through his stomach, but the man still had no idea who these people were. Restrained, he could only take the beating like a helpless target.

The young man kicking him cursed between blows.

"So you're the bastard chatting up my girl, huh?"

"Huh?"

"'Huh'? 'Huh' my ass! Don’t play dumb! I’m asking you—have you been chatting online lately?"

Still restrained and utterly confused, the man tried to recall who he’d talked to recently.

His head shook violently in panic as the pain kept coming.

"N-no… not me! I’ve only talked to a few kids lately, not your girlfriend!"

"Still lying!"

The answer clearly didn’t satisfy them. A slap followed, hard enough to make blood spill from his mouth.

"It’s fucking you, and you still won’t admit it!"

With that, the beating continued.

In moments, the man was knocked to the ground, taking hits from all four with no way to fight back. He could only curl up, shielding his head to avoid worse injuries.

The commotion drew attention from the neighboring room.

A man in his thirties stepped out of his hotel door and approached the open room where the assault was happening.

Seeing the four attackers, he didn’t hesitate before shouting:

"The cops are here!"

The yell instantly caught the group’s attention. Their kicks stopped mid-air, and at the mention of police, they bolted without another word—vanishing within seconds.

Only the beaten man remained, curled up on the floor.

Once the attackers were gone, the man from the hallway stepped inside to check on him.

Still terrified, the victim flinched violently when touched, clutching his head even tighter.

The older man quickly reassured him:

"Relax, they’re gone."

"……"

After a long pause, the beaten man finally lowered his arms slightly and looked up pitifully from the floor.

The helper was broad-shouldered with a stern expression.

Realizing this wasn’t one of his attackers, the man finally exhaled in relief.

He let himself be helped up and seated on the bed.

After nearly five minutes of beating, he still had no clue what had just happened. He was certain he hadn’t chatted with any adult women recently—yet those guys had stormed in and attacked without letting him explain.

This… was so unfair!

Parts of his face were already swelling. One eye, punched by someone, had turned dark purple.

He didn’t dare touch it—even breathing sent waves of pain through his face and body.

Unable to accept such a random beating, he gritted his teeth and reached for his phone to call the police.

But just as he moved, the older man stopped him.

"You’re hurt pretty bad. You should get to a hospital first. That left eye looks bad—if you wait too long, you might lose vision."

"Y-yeah… you’re right! Hospital first!"

Nodding hastily, he pocketed his phone and tried to stand, limping badly.

"Tell you what—I’ve got my car. It’s late, and you’re in no shape to go alone. How about I drive you?"

The beaten man thought for a moment… then agreed.

Soon, the older man was helping him out of the room.

On the way downstairs, the victim kept ranting:

How could the hotel give out his room number? He’d make them pay for this!

But when they reached the front desk, no staff were there—only fueling his anger further.

Grumbling, he was helped into a van’s back seat.

The door shut behind him.

The older man took the driver’s seat, buckled up, and started the engine, pulling away.

Sitting in the back, the beaten man suddenly realized he hadn’t even asked his helper’s name.

Wincing through the pain, he spoke up:

"What should I call you?"

"Just call me Old Liu."

The man replied casually, then added:

"I was about to sleep when I heard the noise in your room, so I came to check…"

"God… thank you. They might’ve killed me otherwise."

"Killed you?"

Old Liu repeated the words, glancing at the rearview mirror.

"Nah, killing’s illegal."

"Damn it, getting beaten up for no reason—I’m so pissed!"

"No reason? Wait… why did they hit you?"

At the question, the man seethed.

"How should I know? They accused me of hitting on their boss’s girlfriend!"

"Ah, no wonder they were mad."

"But I didn’t do it!"

His voice rose in frustration.

"Lately, I’ve only chatted with a few girls online—no other women!"

"Girls?"

"Yeah, just some brats in their teens."

"Oh? What’d you talk about?"

"Nothing much. Just normal stuff—asking about their studies, things like that."

"Didn’t take you for the caring type."

"Exactly! This beating was so unfair… I’m just here for work, and now this!"

"……"

Old Liu fell silent.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.