Villain With The Absolute Evil Sytem
Chapter 42 - 40 : A perfect candidate

Chapter 42: Chapter 40 : A perfect candidate

Lumian needed more Chaos Tokens.

For that, he had two options: either he got his hands dirty and caused chaos himself, or he influenced someone else to do it for him.

The former was efficient but came with risk, unwanted attention, possible investigations, and more annoyances he didn’t care for or need at the moment, not with Reinhardt and the Vanguard watching him. Lumian only got his hands dirty when necessary.

The latter, however, was far more sustainable.

A Chaos Token farm. Someone reckless, violent, and unpredictable. Someone he could manipulate into wreaking havoc while he reaped the rewards.

His mind flickered back to Shirley.

She was chaotic by nature. Dramatic. A walking disaster. Even before his influence, she was already an unstable person . With just the right push...

She could be exactly what he needed.

Night had fallen when Lumian found himself in front of the rundown house he had last seen Shirley enter. It wasn’t difficult to find, it stood out, even in this part of the city, looking more like an abandoned wreck than a home. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and something more sour unwashed bodies, old sweat, and misery.

And Shirley’s scent.

Mixed with the musk of several men.

Lumian clicked his tongue, settling against a nearby lamppost, hands tucked into his pockets as he waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The front door swung open violently.

Shirley stormed out, her fists clenched and her face twisted in fury.

"I’M DONE WITH THIS!" she screamed, her voice raw with emotion. "I’M LEAVING, AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!"

A man followed her out, the same one Lumian had seen last time. The dirty tank top, the beer in one hand, and now a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a smug expression.

Shirley’s breathing was uneven, her body trembling, not just with anger, but something deeper—sadness.

The man chuckled. "You always say that, girl."

His voice was laced with condescension, his smirk widening. "And yet, you always come back. You know why."

Shirley spun around and screamed another curse at him. But Lumian could see it, the barely held-back tears in her eyes, the way her body stiffened at his words.

The man only laughed and flicked his cigarette to the side before stepping back into the house, the door shutting behind him.

Shirley turned back around, fists still trembling.

And slammed straight into Lumian.

Her momentum was too much, and she stumbled back, landing hard on the pavement.

That was it. That was the final push.

Shirley burst into tears.

Not the kind of tears one could stop, not the kind one could suppress. These were the raw, ugly kind heaving sobs, shaky breaths, the kind that had been waiting to spill over.

Lumian watched her.

For a moment, he simply observed, tilting his head slightly.

He wasn’t good at comforting people. He had no intention of even trying.

But this was taking too long.

"Shirley."

His voice cut through the night, sharp and commanding.

Shirley stiffened instantly, her body reacting before her mind caught up. Her sobs hiccupped to a stop, and she blinked rapidly, trying to place his voice.

Slowly, she lifted a hand, shielding her eyes from the streetlight to get a better look at him.

"...Mister?" she mumbled, still slightly dazed.

Lumian exhaled through his nose. "Lumian."

She wiped at her face, sniffing hard, trying to pull herself together.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice still thick with emotion. "How do you know this place?"

Lumian saw no reason to lie.

"I followed you home the last time we met."

Shirley stared at him for a moment.

Then she scowled.

"That’s creepy as hell," she muttered. "You’re weird."

Lumian raised an eyebrow, then gestured to the house behind her.

"You’re one to talk."

Shirley’s scowl deepened, but she didn’t argue.

Lumian’s eyes flicked briefly to the closed door. "You’ve got quite the relationship with your father."

Shirley flinched.

Her entire body tensed as if his words had struck a nerve.

"Don’t call that scum my father," she spat.

Lumian met her glare with a calm, almost lazy expression.

"But he is, isn’t he?"

Her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.

She shot him a fierce, threatening look, but Lumian barely reacted.

"Oh, stop it." He waved a dismissive hand. "Save that look for your father."

Shirley sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, her whole body trembling with anger.

"That man," she hissed, "is nothing to me. He lost the right to be my father a long time ago."

Lumian nodded slightly, as if that answer was expected.

"Good to know," he said. "But I didn’t come here to discuss biology or family relationships."

Shirley exhaled sharply. "Then what the hell do you want?"

Lumian glanced at her, then tilted his head slightly.

"Come with me," he said. "There’s a place nearby that sells really good ice cream."

Shirley blinked.

Her face twisted in confusion.

"...What?"

Lumian slid his hands back into his pockets. "You heard me."

Shirley scoffed. "Why the hell would I do that?"

Lumian’s expression didn’t change.

"You want to get out of this mess, don’t you?"

Silence.

Shirley’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

She knew what he meant.

Her eyes darted briefly back to the house behind her, as if she could still feel the weight of that man’s smug laughter clinging to her skin.

Lumian turned, already walking away.

"It’s fine if you don’t want to," he said, his tone completely indifferent. "Maybe your next customer will be your savior. Prince Charming."

Shirley’s entire body tensed at his words.

Her expression twisted with anger and humiliation.

She ground her teeth together, her face burning.

And then She stormed after him.

She moved too fast, too recklessly, her foot caught against an old, discarded can of tuna, sending her stumbling forward.

Her hand shot out to catch herself, but instead, she slammed into a metal ladder that had been precariously leaning against the wall.

The ladder crashed down onto a locked bicycle, sending a chain reaction of clattering noises through the alley.

Lumian smirked slightly, watching from the corner of his eye.

Yeah.

Shirley was perfect.