Mythology Rebooted
Chapter 1165 - 403: Paris, The Black Principle Cult

Chapter 1165: Chapter 403: Paris, The Black Principle Cult

Wayne glanced at the lottery sales booth, then back at Regina, who was peering around curiously.

It was like a dream flashback to the past life; he saw on her face that indescribable yet empathetic emotion everyone knew too well—poverty.

"What’s the matter, short on cash?" Wayne asked curiously.

Regina’s salary was on par with Odilia’s, plus the allowance, red packets, and bonuses given by the boss, along with the fact that she excelled at overtime, becoming the library’s top workaholic, and sweeping monthly, quarterly, and yearly excellence awards, her income was quite substantial.

The model employee in the eyes of the boss, the little witch in the eyes of her colleagues.

In a few years, Regina could afford a small villa in the West District of Lundan, move out of the shared dormitory, and become a successful person with both property and a vehicle.

Take ten thousand steps back; Wayne had been to Regina’s home. Old Prussian Black Flag—her family was not short on money; even without work, she could live lavishly off her parents for a lifetime.

Depend on parents at home and rely on a boss when outside, in no way did she seem short of money.

Incidentally, her parents-in-law are super sweet talkers.

Upon learning that Wayne was the Divine Oracle High Priest of the Naturalism Church, had a decent family property in Lundan, and even arranged a job for the big sister-in-law as the Papal Secretary Officer, offering both wealth and power, which couldn’t be found even with a lantern, her parents-in-law couldn’t be more satisfied.

In short, amid the clinking of glasses, the hosts and guests were all happy except for Regina.

Regina: (╥˘‸˘╥)

"I’m not exactly... short on money, but a little more wouldn’t hurt. I want to try my luck, maybe I’ll hit the jackpot," Regina explained dryly, but only she knew the real reason.

She was spending too much of the boss’ money, anyone unaware would think she was being sugar-daddied!

Being a working professional, especially as a secretary—a job that can easily lead to misunderstandings—it’s easy to slide morally and ideologically when you spend too much of the boss’ money without "sleeping your way up."

It does not matter much if she slips up, but it would be terrible if her boss were led astray.

This is really bad, and it goes against the education she received from childhood. In Wayne’s words, one must rely on oneself; she wants to buy with her own money when she feels like shopping.

Seeing the thoughts within Regina’s heart, Wayne mused to himself how interesting it was. He never noticed before, but teasing the perennially strong-willed little secretary was quite enjoyable.

"Tsk tsk, I like your thinking—more money, the better. It’s exactly my line of thought."

"Boss, I have a feeling I’ll win a hundred thousand today. The grand prize is mine for the taking."

"Sure, dreaming is everyone’s right."

"Boss, you could at least cheer me on a bit. Why so pessimistic, it’s like you’re certain I’ll lose," Regina complained unsatisfactorily.

"Here’s the deal, let’s play a game. You win, you get a hundred thousand, and it’s simpler than buying a lottery ticket,"

Wayne hooked his arm around Regina’s waist and dragged her away from the lottery booth: "Ever played rock-paper-scissors? If you lose, pay me One Constitutional Order; if you win, I’ll give you a hundred thousand. Unlimited turns, you stop whenever you want."

"There’s such a good deal?"

"You go first."

"..."

Regina was no fool; she immediately grasped Wayne’s implication and sighed deeply, "It’s so difficult, where did all the money go, who’s making all of it?"

"Need you even think about it? Obviously, it’s capitalists like me,"

Wayne proudly declared: "A bunch dreaming of unearned gains are in fact feeding another bunch who really earn without lifting a finger, this, my dear, is called capital."

"I never dream of unearned gains; I’m pretty good at working overtime."

"Alright, alright, I’ll get you the nicest bags and shoes." Wayne patted Regina’s head and hurried to catch up with the two secretaries ahead.

Regina let out a sigh. Her dream of getting rich overnight was shattered. It was too difficult on her own; she could only grit her teeth and spend the boss’ money.

Wayne, patting his own head, took one last look back at the street corner. The magic power of money was too great; he knew it’s a trap but almost couldn’t resist buying a lottery ticket just now.

No wonder Regina paused to look; he too was tempted to try his luck.

If not for the clear knowledge of the temptation of money, he would have thought the lottery sales center belonged to the Devil, for only with the Devil’s magic could they lure people time and again to fall for it and never tire of it.

...

That night.

In the secretary’s home, in the bedroom.

Hexuno, lying in Wayne’s arms with her wings retracted behind her, panting, said: "Boss, I am Mona."

"Okay, Mona."

Wayne embraced the Archangel, and since she took the initiative to make cream puffs, he decided not to reveal her this time.

Hexuno kept mouth shut, acquiesced through actions despite still under Mona’s guise. Wayne didn’t press her; take it step by step, the bottom line is meant to be crossed. This time it’s Mona, maybe next time it won’t be.

"Boss, about the church, I contacted them during the day. Since you won’t go to Paris now, should we call the church to amend your itinerary?" Hexuno asked.

"You’re in too much of a hurry, making it seem like we’re in the midst of a transaction."

Wayne retorted, embracing her shoulders and leaning down to capture her lips.

I’m Mona! I’m Mona! I’m Mona!

While keeping this thought in mind, Hexuno mimicked Mona and responded enthusiastically. After the kiss, her gaze seemed a bit dazed.

She soon came to her senses: "Boss, are you still going to Paris?"

"No need to change the plans with the church, I’ll slip there quietly,"

Wayne leaned against the headboard and said, "I’ve collaborated with angels before, in Prussian Berlin. The Holy See there has already fallen, all turned Prussian. Same likely applies this time too. To avoid the Devil’s schemes, I can’t appear on the church’s list."

He’s got it all figured out, sneaking into the village without a sound, let other Reincarnated Angels draw fire, and he’ll just camp in the bushes picking off heads.