My Realistic Adult Game
Chapter 92 - 49: Justice Will Not Be Late

Chapter 92: Chapter 49: Justice Will Not Be Late

"Here you go, in the safe under the liquor cabinet in the private room, the code is 537894. It also requires my fingerprint."

"Open it!"

I stood next to the liquor cabinet, holding a pistol at the other person’s body.

The middle-aged man slowly crawled over and opened the safe.

Inside were cash and a stack of contract documents.

I picked up the contracts and browsed through them; there were many.

Their targets were all young girls from South Korea, China, Japan, and many Latinas.

Their goal was simple: exploit the financial pressures of these girls, whether for consumption or studies, and offer them loans.

Then, with high-interest rates, trap these girls.

A tragic fate awaited them.

Once they became prey, they would be taken out of Miami.

In Seoul, these women would be illegally confined, have their documents confiscated, and even be controlled with drugs.

Of course, drugs ruin the body, and organs aren’t valuable.

They would lock up these girls, abuse them like dogs, trampling on their dignity and resistance.

Turning them into tools for making money.

These guys lack humanity and deserve to go to hell.

The law can’t punish them, but I can!

I flicked the lighter, the flames flickering in the private room.

The documents emitted black smoke, the fire engulfing each page of the contracts.

"Damn it, that’s all money." The middle-aged man watched heartbroken.

I threw the contracts on the table, "This money is soaked in blood!"

"Are you satisfied now?" the middle-aged man looked at me angrily.

He wrapped the cash in his shirt.

I grabbed the middle-aged man’s hair and dragged him from the private room to the hall.

"Damn you, you’ll regret this!"

His screams echoed in the hall, the attendant closed the door; as the crime syndicate’s den, they wouldn’t let things expose.

Matters of the dark world shouldn’t be left to the police.

I dragged the middle-aged man to the hall, raised my arm, and pointed the gun at the unconscious guys on the ground.

Bang!

Bang bang bang bang!

The gunshots kept ringing.

Each shot felt like it hit the middle-aged man’s chest.

He watched his subordinates being killed one by one, that sense of powerlessness made him fear me for the first time.

"Lunatic!"

"Now tell me, should I regret it?"

Hearing my words, the middle-aged man bit his lip. "Stop, stop, I beg you!"

I stopped shooting. "Say thank you!"

Fack!

The middle-aged man’s heart was torn. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome!"

Bang!

I shot him through the forehead! Blood splattered on the floor.

The hall was filled with the scent of death.

The attendants, scared, huddled together like a flock of sheep seeking safety.

I beckoned to one attendant.

"Sorry, please don’t kill me."

He trembled as he walked up to me.

"Tell the boss in Seoul, South Korea, not to appear in front of me, Miami has its own rules.

I don’t allow it!"

I don’t allow it.

Those few words conveyed my threat, I don’t allow it, you cannot touch!

I don’t allow it, this is Miami’s rule!

A sentence without passion, a sentence without any threatening tone.

This sentence was filled with intense killing and death.

"Understand?"

"Yes, sir!" the attendant answered cautiously.

"Clean this up." I pointed to the corpses on the floor, threw a few stacks of US dollars wrapped in a shirt on the ground, it was thirty thousand.

"Thank you, sir." The attendant tried to hold back his fear, "Can you tell me your name?"

I smiled, "My name’s Kenny, Kenny Clark!"

"The Butcher of Miami!" all the attendants exclaimed.

"Oh God!"

"Kenny Clark. We’re still alive!"

I picked up the suit from the table, wearing it over my bare torso, my developed chest muscles exposed.

"Sorry to interrupt your work!" I opened the locked door with the shirt and walked out of the barbecue restaurant.

"Damn, I’m so scared!"

"He really is Kenny Clark?"

"He killed everyone! MY GOD!"

"But he has such manners!"

I gave them a strong visual impact, a seemingly gentlemanly guy, yet a cold-blooded killer.

"What should we do now?"

"Of course, take the money, clean up the bodies. Put them in the freezer, then use a refrigerated truck to dump them at sea!"

"We don’t call the police?"

"We’re a crime syndicate! Damn it!"

Across the street from the barbecue restaurant, a police car was parked, with two female officers anxiously waiting.

Stella kept checking her watch; I’d been in for ten minutes.

"Damn, did something bloody happen?"

The female officer said nervously, constantly looking in the direction of the barbecue restaurant’s door.

"Call for backup? There’s only two of us," the trainee worriedly suggested.

Once conflict broke out, they couldn’t stop it.

Stella paced back and forth, her heart a bundle of nerves.

"Damn it, why am I worried about that guy?"

"Stella, look, he’s coming out."

The two female officers looked towards the door.

I walked out of the barbecue restaurant, holding the shirt.

"You did it?" Stella ran up to me.

"The contracts are burned, no one will bother Lee again."

"Oh God, you really did it?" the trainee asked in disbelief, her expression very excited.

"Yes, all the contracts are burned, no more girls will be harassed by this group, they can start a new life."

"Fack! What are you saying? All the contracts?" Stella looked at me in disbelief; a crime syndicate wouldn’t give up such a huge profit.

That was millions of US dollars.

"All of it. Burned. No girl will be hurt."

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