My Second Chance Vol.3

Chapter 101: Fate Beats Calculation

Apart from the first generation, practically every head of a wealthy dynasty had been a prodigal once.

Lawrence Stone was no exception.

The old man's appetite for pleasure ran far stronger than his grandson Walter Stone's.

At most Walter liked collecting charming women. Lawrence had tried every thrill and eventually took to the company of both men and women.

In that order, literally.

Now that Lawrence had grown old and could no longer entertain women, he could only keep a beautiful man at his side.

Xavier Vale was the birthday gift his son and Walter's father Harold Stone gave him for his seventieth.

Yes. A son giving his father a male companion.

That was how filthy the inside of a great family could be.

But Marcus Hale knew something Lawrence did not. The obedient, frail Xavier at the old man's side was the grim reaper who would harvest his life in the future.

The mastermind was Harold Stone.

Lawrence would die at the hands of the companion Harold gave him because of his assault on his daughter-in-law.

Lawrence Stone's life could not be called uneventful.

Thinking about that gossip, Marcus leaned against the boat railing and lit a cigarette in the deep night sea breeze.

Should he warn Old Stone or not?

The more chaotic the Stone Family became, the better for him.

As for what happened to Xavier Vale, he did not care.

The man was no saint. In some ways he was more detestable than both Lawrence and Walter.

Despite appearing soft and delicate, he had a twisted dark psyche and incredibly deep schemes.

In his previous life, after Xavier eliminated Lawrence, Harold did not silence him. He became Harold's close associate and nearly had the Stone Family change its name to Vale.

In the decade between Lawrence's death and Walter taking over as family head, the number Xavier killed with his own hands exceeded fifty, not counting every wild criminal trade.

One could say he played a considerable role in the Stone Family's downfall.

"Excuse me, sir?"

As Marcus pondered, Xavier suddenly approached and said politely, "I am sorry. My master has a heart and lung condition and cannot tolerate smoke. Could you please move downwind? Thank you."

"No problem."

Looking at the delicate pretty face, Marcus suddenly had an idea and said quickly in a low voice, "Walter Stone will help you."

Xavier's body trembled violently, shocked beyond measure, while Marcus only laughed, stood, and walked toward the stern, nodding to Lawrence as he passed.

Father, son, and companion sharing one goal with three schemes. It would be weird if the Stone Family did not end in utter chaos.

After about two hours in seemingly endless darkness, a huge structure appeared before the fishing boat, rows of lights like a castle on the sea.

Ten minutes later the fishing boat slowly approached the massive ship and docked beside the sloping gangway.

At the bottom of the gangplank stood a third officer and two armed crew members, all foreigners with deep-set eyes and sharp features.

After tickets were inspected, Marcus was first up the gangway and onto the deck.

In his previous life, whenever he felt empty he boarded this ship, squandered a fortune, gambled and laughed, spending countless debauched years here.

Looking back at his own hollow shell, Marcus felt uncontrollable emotion and reached out to touch the life ring on the railing.

Lawrence Stone and Xavier Vale came aboard as well.

As they brushed past, a gold card fell at Marcus's feet.

It was something only senior members possessed.

Pay an annual membership fee of one hundred thousand dollars and you became a senior member of the gambling ship. Boarding time and location were unrestricted, and you had a suite exclusively on board.

No need to buy a ticket every time. The gold card was the pass.

Xavier had left Lawrence's gold card behind, clearly intending to meet Marcus privately.

Marcus had no such plans. The man was too good-looking for his taste, so revolting that he bent down, picked up the card, and threw it straight into the sea.

A temporary ticket allowed one night only, leaving at dawn. That little time might not even cover gambling and entertainment, so there was no dedicated room unless you paid for one.

The cheapest single room cost five thousand dollars a night.

From that perspective the annual membership fee of one hundred thousand dollars was quite cost-effective.

Like hotels, the lower the floor the cheaper the price. Single rooms on the cruise ship sat in the lower cabin, more than half the round porthole under water, which looked frightening.

Marcus arrived at the room he had booked for four thousand dollars and took out casual suits bought that day at a luxury menswear store to change into.

It was not about showing off. It was about blending in.

To someone with an agenda, a lot could be deduced from actions, movement, and attire.

The best disguise was merging with your surroundings.

In his past life Marcus had been a top-class tycoon. After changing clothes he was confident he could fool even the gambling ship's computers and prevent anyone linking him to the business up-and-comer from Westlake City.

However, no matter how well you prepare, accidents and coincidences nullify all plans.

After getting ready Marcus stepped out. Just as he was about to close the door, a woman in a black evening dress came out of the room opposite.

Their eyes met. Even through half masks they recognized each other instantly.

"You..."

The woman covered Marcus's mouth, pushed him back into the room, and slammed the door.

"Why are you here?"

She removed her mask, revealing an energetic resolute face. Derek Shaw. Someone Marcus had not known long but with whom he already cooperated tacitly.

"I should be asking you!"

Marcus removed his mask too, eyes as round as hers. "You have no jurisdiction here. If your identity is exposed you immediately become shark food.

There are better ways to seek death, are there not?"

"Can I not just be here to have fun?"

"Are you here to have fun?"

Derek pouted. "We received a tip that a secret document is going to be sold on this ship.

This document is crucial with wide-reaching implications. In the wrong hands the consequences would be unimaginable.

So I had to come up here and stop the transaction."

Marcus thought less than two seconds, put his mask back on, and pulled the door open.

"You go. Let us pretend we never saw each other."

A flash of resolve sparked in Derek's eyes. Far from leaving she sat beside the bed, long powerful straight legs visible beneath the high-slit evening gown.

"Dear Marcus the big boss, that is not very much in the spirit of friendship, is it?"

"Oh, your sister!"

Marcus closed the door, fuming. "I came here tonight to make money and incidentally buy a bodyguard for my wife."

"And is that the respectful protector of innocent lives and responsible man you claim to be?"

"Do not try to trap me with words. A good man is not a saint. All I want in this life is to live peacefully with my wife until the end of my days, make some money, do the occasional good deed. That is all.

I have no intention nor interest in dying for my country."

Derek looked intently at Marcus's resolute expression and began, "That document is connected to the lives of many innocent people. Its contents are..."

"Shut up!"

Marcus quickly stepped forward to cover her mouth. She conveniently fell backward onto the bed in an extremely suggestive position with him.

Derek blinked her long eyelashes a couple of times, unexpectedly revealing a hint of seductiveness.

Marcus immediately became alert. "What kind of trick are you trying now?

I warn you to behave or I will not hesitate to knock you out and tie you up."

Derek motioned for him to let go, then raised her hand and lightly tapped his chest.

"I am not ugly and I have a nice figure. Meeting in this lawless place is rare fate. Are you not interested in a no-strings-attached friendly match?"

Marcus was not only uninterested but looked disdainful.

"You cannot be serious. Is seduction really the best strategy you can come up with?

I suggest you enjoy yourself tonight and do not entertain delusions about stopping any transactions.

Because doing something stupid here can really get someone killed."

"Hey!" Derek seemed angry, twisting in dissatisfaction. "Even if you are not interested you do not have to look so repulsed.

I have my pride too."

"Cut it out. If I got ensnared by you that easily that would be the real blow to your pride.

A worthless man like me is not fit for an unsavory alliance with Officer Shaw."

Derek suddenly stopped. Her eyes lost sharpness and became gentle.

"Alright. I will not talk to you about big ideals and responsibilities. Just one question. Can you really stand by and watch me walk into my own death?"

"I can," Marcus replied without hesitation. "After you have been thrown into the sea I might light a cigarette and pay respects, maybe shed crocodile tears.

At most I will tamp down the fun a notch while frolicking with the hostesses at the casino."

Derek smiled and patted his shoulder. "Understood. From now on let us pretend we never met.

If you are not up for a quick one with me you had better get up now. My dress is getting wrinkled."

Marcus stood while Derek got out of bed to tidy hair and clothes, then flashed a bright smile and moved to open the door.

"How many people did you bring this time?" Marcus suddenly asked.

"Budget is tight. Tickets are too expensive. It is just me and my apprentice," she replied.

"Come on. Is it not rumored your department has unlimited budget and you cannot shell out a few thousand US dollars? You must be kidding."

Derek's expression was sheepish. "It is because the higher-ups did not agree."

Marcus slapped his forehead in exasperation. "That explains why your department would be foolish enough to send someone to a gambling ship. On the vast ocean with no escape I should have guessed you were acting on your own."

"It is my responsibility," Derek declared firmly.

"It is your leaders' responsibility, not yours."

"If I am willing to take it on, then it is."

Marcus looked intently into Derek's eyes, feeling an inexplicable stir in his heart.

It was his long-dormant passion, quite foolish but undeniably exhilarating.

Though he doubted he would ever reach the though-I-be-alone-against-a-thousand stance in his life, the knowing-the-dangers-yet-heading-toward-Tiger-Mountain thrill was still worth an occasional fling.

Moments later he sighed deeply and asked, "What is your mission objective? Do not tell me it is to capture the dealers."

"I am not that dumb. On the high seas where would I take them even if I caught them?"

Derek shook her head and declared in a grave tone, "Best would be to take out the dealers, or failing that retrieve or destroy that document."

"Are you sure the original is what is being traded tonight?"

"Confirmed. The file is stored on a USB drive with special encryption. It can only be read and cannot be copied."

"The location and time of the exchange?"

"Exact location unclear, but time should be around two in the morning."

Marcus looked at his watch, calculated the time, then stood and said, "Alright. Let us meet at the Golden Tiger statue in the main hall of the casino at one forty-five AM.

Now give me my room card back."

Derek was startled and pulled out the room card she had just stolen. "How did you..."

Marcus suddenly stepped forward, pinned her against the door, leaned in close, and said in a deep voice, "Officer Derek Shaw, I hope after tonight you understand one thing. I do not just know some things others do not.

In the future be honest with me and play fewer tricks. It is for your own good.

Last, since you want my help, tonight's operation must be under my complete command.

If you or your apprentice engage in unauthorized personal actions I will immediately terminate the operation and let you fend for yourselves. Did you get that?"

Derek pursed her thin lips and for some reason a faint blush appeared on her face.

"Are you sure you do not want to have a fling?"

Marcus pushed her away and left the room.

Clearly he was not an ordinary man, and Derek was no ordinary woman either.

Those who have experienced life and death usually have incredibly strong hearts and tend to take many things others see as important more lightly.

As an infamous lawless territory, illegal transactions occurred nearly every day on the gambling ship, and Marcus knew many of them, including the secret file Derek spoke of.

However, he did not know it would happen tonight.

The file contained the structural design of a core component for a new type of guided missile. In Marcus's previous life it was successfully traded and eventually fell into the hands of a certain country.

That country had close ties with rebel armed forces, so it was not long before the missiles appeared on the battlefield.

The first use in combat scattered the souls of thousands.

Because it was not their own who died and the core component was not seen as particularly advanced technology, Marcus genuinely did not want to interfere.

But tonight Derek's presence naturally meant she had been there in his previous life as well.

And if the transaction was successful it meant she was very likely to lose her life tonight.

After all, no matter how much Marcus inwardly cursed such actions as foolish, it could not mask the subconscious admiration and respect he felt.

Heroes are never morally perfect saints. They are flesh and blood people.

Enough.

If he could help two more heroes survive in this world that also counted as a virtuous act, and he should be worthy of this second chance at life bestowed by heaven.

Exhaling, Marcus braced himself and stepped out of the elevator.

The entrance was not the casino.

Or rather it was not a traditional casino.

Its structure was more like clubs commonly found abroad, with sofas partitioned by curtains or clever decorations to create private spaces.

Each space had one or more screens of various sizes broadcasting sporting events happening around the world at that moment.

Yes. This floor was a specialized betting arena and also where Marcus could easily rake in wins as if picking up money.

A leggy blonde hostess, definitely over six feet in heels, came over with a smile.

"Good evening, esteemed sir. My name is Candy, and I am honored to serve you."

Candy. A fake name. Only streetwalkers overseas had names like that.

While inwardly scoffing, Marcus skillfully wrapped his arm around the woman's waist, smile beaming. "To meet the beautiful Miss Candy, tonight must indeed be my lucky night.

Darling, take me to exchange some chips."

---

Chapter 102: Does a Pauper Deserve the Ship

Nine million dollars exchanged for one point three million dollars' worth of chips, which were not physical but merely digits on Marcus's room card, somewhat like taking off one's pants to fart, unnecessarily complicated.

But such were the rules of the gambling ship. All betting, trading, and transactions had to be conducted through the props it provided. Otherwise they were considered invalid and not protected by the ship.

It sounded amusing, yet the reputation of the gambling ship had always been rock solid.

As long as it happened on the ship and fully complied with the rules, no matter how powerful someone was on land they could not renege or default on debts. Otherwise they faced endless pursuit.

Even if they died their descendants had to keep promises and make reparations.

That was why many underworld dealings chose this place, even with a high commission fee of ten percent.

Marcus did not opt for a private booth. He found a seat in the public area.

The so-called public area was more like a multimedia hall.

In the dimly lit environment more than a dozen large LCD screens surrounded the seating area in a fan shape, and each seat had two additional monitors on its table.

One displayed live odds of wins and losses for various events, and the other broadcast the matches.

Marcus declined Candy's suggestion to call for a girl to accompany him. After carefully reviewing all betting odds he chose an FA Cup match between Barnsley and Chelsea and put all his chips on a one-zero scoreline.

"Sir, Barnsley is currently only on thirteen points, on the brink of relegation, and undeniably a weak team, especially against Premier League powerhouse Chelsea."

Even seasoned football fans might not have heard of Barnsley, so Candy thought Marcus was betting haphazardly and kindly reminded him.

On the gambling ship hostesses were not merely waitresses.

They had undergone systematic training in politics, finance, economics, sports, fashion, gossip, and more. Although they could not be experts in everything they could hold a conversation on any topic the customer wanted and speak knowledgeably.

Working in the sports betting area Candy naturally had comprehensive understanding of sports clubs from around the world.

"Thank you."

Marcus sipped his cocktail with an I-have-money-to-burn expression and said, "But its odds are one to five point six three. I really like this set of numbers. I feel it will bring me good luck."

Candy had heard that some people liked to attribute special significance to certain numbers. Hearing this she said nothing more, inserted Marcus's room card into the card reader on the table, and began processing the bet.

Then she displayed the live game on the other screen.

The second half of the match had been going for over twenty minutes and the score was still zero-zero.

Marcus was not a football fan and knew little, but it did not take long for him to see Barnsley's players were far inferior to Chelsea in ball possession and passing efficiency.

The only thing worth mentioning was vigorous movement and aggressive offensive play.

Another ten minutes passed. With the match nearly over the score still had not changed.

Candy spoke up again. "Sir, this match is a knockout game. If it goes into overtime Barnsley's odds might increase a bit. Would you like to place an additional bet?"

Marcus shook his head. "This game will definitely not go into overtime."

"Why?"

"Because Chelsea is rubbish and they are going to lose."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a curse erupted nearby. "What the fuck!"

Marcus, surprised, turned and saw a young man standing behind the couch displaying disdain and fury, spewing incomprehensible words.

The man was not wearing a mask, had squinting eyes, high cheekbones, a large square face, and was so ugly it could shock heaven and earth. Without hearing him speak one could tell he was Korean.

Clearly he was a Chelsea fan and had overheard Marcus's English conversation with Candy, so he jumped in to cause trouble.

"Sir, please watch your language." Candy stood up, polite but firm. "The gambling ship does not tolerate unwarranted provocation against others.

If you cannot stop this behavior I will immediately call security to escort you out."

The man did not dare offend the gambling ship. He glared at Marcus fiercely, spat, and sat on a sofa not far away.

"I am terribly sorry for the very bad experience this has brought you," Candy bowed to Marcus.

Marcus waved his hand indifferently. "It does not matter. It is not your fault. It is just a filthy bug. No need to worry about it."

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Marcus did not lower his voice, so the man heard him, jumped up again, pointed at him and asked Candy, "He insulted me just now. That is not unprovoked provocation, right?"

Candy's face showed difficulty.

Marcus chuckled, turned his face toward the man. "Your behavior is very much in line with the impression your country gives foreigners, so I generously forgave your rudeness just now.

But now it seems that was obviously a mistake.

The gambling ship forbids any fighting other than duels to the death, unless you want to join me in a trip to the boxing ring. Otherwise our conflict can only be resolved through gambling.

Korean stinkbug, to gamble or to fight, what is your choice?"

The man's face twitched twice. "Let us bet on this match. One million US dollars. A draw at most. Chelsea will not possibly lose."

Marcus sneered. "Only one million? Can a pauper even afford to be on a gambling boat?"

The man was furious. "Then you tell me how much."

Marcus raised a finger. "Ten million US dollars. Can you afford the bet?"

The man's expression froze. Ten million dollars was enough to make him wince.

"There is only five minutes left in the game. Bet if you have the money. Fuck off if you do not. Do not waste my fucking time."

"Fuck you. An American swine, can you even put up that much money?"

Marcus gestured to Candy with a hooked finger and whispered something in her ear.

Candy's expression changed. She hastily tapped on the keyboard, then with a shocked look turned the monitor toward the man.

The next second the man's squinty eyes turned into round eyes. On the monitor was gambling ship account information with a balance of over three hundred and eighty million US dollars.

"Three minutes left," Marcus checked his watch again. "Korean stinkbug, are you going to bet?"

The man clenched his teeth. "Fuck. Let us bet."

Candy quickly pulled up the gambling ship's private betting platform, inserted the cards for Marcus and the man, verified their identities, and transferred ten million US dollar chips each.

Of course Marcus's share was withdrawn from that account.

He only had a limit of ten million dollars for this outing, so he could only borrow temporarily from his mentor's account.

As always the old man was in jail, so there was no need to worry about being found out.

When all operations were completed the match had reached the last minute. Chelsea players on the field had started to slack, but Barnsley players were still fiercely attacking.

The man seemed convinced the game would go into overtime, so he did not even look at the screen, fondling the companion beside him, mouth muttering something indecent.

With only ten seconds left a Barnsley player suddenly took a long shot, the ball flying in a parabola over midfield and landing near Chelsea's penalty area.

This looked like giving up, so Chelsea defenders appeared lethargic, trapping the ball and making a sideways pass to a teammate, waiting for the last few seconds to wind down.

But then a Barnsley player burst out from an angle, intercepted the ball halfway, and took a shot.

It went in.

With two seconds left the score became one-zero.

The Barnsley players on the field were hugging in celebration while fans in the stands cheered wildly, but Chelsea players seemed dazed, expressions blank or despondent.

In front of the monitor Candy was dumbfounded. The Korean attendant looked confused, but he was not despondent at all. He sprang up as if there were springs under his butt, face full of disbelief.

"Impossible. This is impossible," he yelled. "A weak team that is nothing to sneeze at, to draw with Chelsea is already a miracle. How could they possibly win?

American swine, you must have cheated."

Marcus's eyes narrowed, but Candy stood up before him and said sternly, "Sir, may I ask if you are accusing the casino?"

The Korean suddenly became flustered. "No, no, no. I mean I do not accept. I want to bet against him again."

Candy looked at Marcus. "Sir, such a request is extremely impolite. You have every right to refuse."

"Transfer thirteen million into that account. The rest put it on my room card."

Marcus instructed her, then turned to the Korean feigning disdain. "Do you still have money? You poor vermin."

The Korean's big pancake face twisted in anger. He extended his palm. "This time I bet five million."

Marcus laughed. "Alright. We Americans are always magnanimous, so I will give you, a small-nation vermin, another chance.

I bet ten million. If you win the money is all yours. But if you lose, in addition to the five million you will kneel in apology to me and shout that Korea has always been America's dog kennel.

Dare to bet?"

The Korean's squinting eyes immediately went from beans to small balls, clearly enraged to the extreme, fists clenched, whole body trembling.

After a while he gritted his teeth and said, "It is a deal."

Marcus nodded at Candy and the hostess once again called up the private betting platform to transfer ten million and five million US dollars from both accounts respectively.

"Sir, according to the rules the challenged party owns the right to decide the betting event and place the initial bet."

Marcus thought for a moment and said, "The timing of various matches is too long and I do not want to see this vermin's face anymore.

Simply pick ten ongoing world-class matches and we will guess winners and losers. Whoever guesses the most correctly wins. Agree?"

"Who is choosing?"

Koreans are indeed cunning. Let you choose then."

The Korean pondered for a moment then nodded.

By this time Candy had entered the betting method into the platform for the record and listed the ten matches chosen by the Korean, indicating winners and losers bet by both sides.

These ten matches covered various events. The quickest would end in two minutes and the slowest in less than ten minutes.

Without exception they were all top international events.

In other words their final outcomes would all appear in media reports.

In his previous life at this moment Marcus was still tracking Blake Calloway every day, sifting through trash thrown out of his house to gather useful information.

Nina Calloway was very fond of sports competitions and subscribed to related newspapers, which naturally Marcus would take note of.

No. More precisely at that time he had not intentionally memorized anything, but whether it was the benefit of rebirth or something else, everything he saw, heard, and experienced in his past life he remembered clearly in this life.

Including the results of tonight's major events.

This was the biggest reason he dared come to the casino to make money and the confidence he had in challenging the Korean to the bet.

Otherwise he would have initiated a death match challenge against the Korean from the start and completely smashed the opponent's head into a pancake in the ring.

Soon the results were in. As expected Marcus won the bet with ten correct guesses out of ten.

The Korean's expression was like someone who had lost his mother. He seemed to want to accuse Marcus of cheating again yet did not dare.

The gambling ship had such high reputation in the dark world precisely because it took credibility seriously, and any related slander would be handled with caution. Annihilating entire families was common.

Of course as mentioned before nobody dared renege on a debt aboard the gambling boat.

With the last five million US dollars gone the South Korean fell to his knees in humiliation, just about to shout as per the betting agreement when he saw Marcus take out his cell phone and aim it at him.

"What are you doing? Filming is not part of the bet."

"There is also no rule against filming."

The South Korean looked at Candy and the blonde hostess hooked the corner of her mouth and said, "According to the rules this gentleman's actions are completely appropriate.

Please fulfill your wager as soon as possible. Thank you."

With tears in his eyes yet unable to do anything about it the South Korean shut his eyes and shouted out loud that Korea had always been America's dog kennel before jumping up and running away.

"Korea really does make for an excellent ruined family's dog."

Marcus laughed and said to Candy, "My dear, could you please upload the video to the international online platform?"

Candy hesitated for a moment and said, "While I am very willing to serve you I must also remind you. That gentleman just now is from a chaebol family in South Korea.

By doing this you could possibly get yourself into trouble.

After all revenge outside the gambling boat is not within our jurisdiction."

"Thank you for the reminder. But I still insist," Marcus said nonchalantly. "If that person's status in South Korea is not significant enough what is the point of the video?

I am not fond of bullying the weak."

Candy's expression shifted slightly as she respectfully bowed her head. "You are a true gentleman."

After a series of operations lasting no more than half an hour Marcus's gambling stake of one million three hundred thousand US dollars had grown to over nineteen million.

Yet he was not satisfied and proceeded to place bets on a tennis match, an F1 race, and a snooker game.

These three events had two things in common. First the winners' odds were not low. Second there was less than half an hour left until their end.

After all there were big things to do around two o'clock.

Money could always be made, but Derek's life was only one.

When Marcus left the sports betting area under Candy's polite farewell the funds in his account had reached over one hundred and forty million, more than a hundred times his initial stake.

Stepping into the elevator he suddenly felt odd intuition and looked up at the security camera in the corner.

At the same time in the security monitoring room on the top floor of the gambling ship a woman dressed in a flashy kimono was also looking at Marcus on the screen.

After a moment of eyes meeting across space Marcus suddenly winked, his smile taking on a mischievously teasing quality.

The woman in the kimono's brows furrowed slightly. A ludicrous thought popped into her head. That wink was meant for her.

After a moment of silence she ordered, "Bring up this person's information."

The operator tapped a few keys and then said, "This person boarded with a temporary membership from a South Coast ticket point, room number G39, the guarantor is Lord Night Wolf."

The woman in the kimono's expression changed drastically. "How can that be? Is not Lord Night Wolf recuperating in an American prison?"

"Yes, that is correct," the operator said. "The number is correct. It is indeed Lord Night Wolf.

Furthermore according to the records this person borrowed ten million US dollars from Lord Night Wolf's account just over an hour ago, but it was quickly returned with an additional three million."

The woman in the kimono was incredibly shaken.

Familiar with even the interest rules. Could he be a close junior of Lord Night Wolf?

After pondering for a moment she asked, "Where is this person right now?"

The operator again located Marcus on the monitors and replied, "He is on level C. He just entered the auction hall."

---

Chapter 103: The Killers From My Last Life

Marcus entered the auction hall while the evening's auction was already well underway. The auctioneer on stage was energetically praising an oil painting.

The casino ship's auction had an interesting rule. Avoid auctioning art and cultural relics that were illicit goods from areas near where the ship was anchored.

For example now that it was stationed in waters around Asia, related illicit items at the auction could only have come from other continents.

Like the oil painting currently up for auction, stolen from a major museum in Europe just a month ago.

Marcus took a bidder's card and auction catalog from a server and sat on a sofa in a corner at the back. He had only flipped through a couple of pages when he nearly leapt back to his feet in shock.

There on the page was a photo. The main subjects were two girls around twenty with almost identical faces. The only difference was one had short spirited hair and the other long flowing locks.

The item description stated they were a pair of twin Super Dolls. The short-haired one was the elder sister and the long-haired one the younger.

They had been exposed to all sorts of training since age three.

The elder sister specialized in security. She excelled in bladework, was proficient in various close combat techniques, and skilled in firearms.

She had training in driving cars, helicopters, and even fighter jets, and was capable of inducing self-hypnosis to block out pain, making her fiercely unafraid of death.

She was described as the perfect personal bodyguard.

The younger sister was of the servant type. True to her designation she mastered nearly every conceivable method of pleasing people, no matter how filthy or perverse the orders. In her hands they would be executed thoroughly, and she was compatible with both men and women.

She was truly a godsend.

The reason Marcus was so astonished was not how formidable they were, but because in his previous life it was these sisters who had brought his life to an end.

Super Dolls as they were called were individuals whose independent consciousness had been suppressed or even erased, turned into machines that would only follow their master's orders, just like dolls.

They usually started from a young age, were completely isolated from society, and indoctrinated with a single mindset: obedience.

This was reinforced again and again through hypnosis, abuse, and rewards until transformation was complete.

The process was lengthy, measured in decades, and the success rate extremely low. Naturally the price for each was exorbitant.

The purpose of Marcus's visit to the gambling ship was to bid on a Doll.

He had not even considered buying a perfect specimen, thinking a flawed one would suffice.

But he could never have expected his luck to be so good, not only coming across a perfect specimen but one that had killed him in his past life.

Of course he bore no malice toward the sisters. They were puppets acting on orders, like two knives.

It is not natural for a person to hold a grudge against knives.

However their being put up for auction did that mean his real enemy was also present tonight?

Marcus felt a chill at the thought, then shook his head.

In his previous life it was during his opposition to the Super Doll Factory's behind-the-scenes boss that he was assassinated by the sisters.

This meant in the original trajectory the sisters would have been bought by someone else tonight and somehow returned to the behind-the-scenes boss.

So should he buy them?

Marcus was genuinely tempted.

Because he knew too well the abilities of the sisters. Without exaggeration if he ordered them now to kill everyone on this ship, by tomorrow's dawn this vessel was certain to become a ghost ship.

But as tempting as that was, whether he could afford the asking price of one hundred forty million dollars was another matter.

In his previous life on the gambling ship he had witnessed many Doll auctions where even flawed specimens fetched high prices of a million US dollars and perfect specimens never went for less than ten million.

And the value of the sisters clearly could not be simply calculated as one plus one equals two.

Marcus estimated the starting bid would likely be in the tens of millions.

Damn it. What was supposed to be a simple trip for making money and buying things turned out filled with unexpected complications one after another. Such a headache.

According to the auction catalogue there were just two more items before the sisters' turn, a matter of twenty minutes at most. There was absolutely no time to go back to the casino to win more money.

Marcus had no choice but to silently pray that not too many people in the audience shared his determination. Otherwise he would be forced to dip into his mentor's life savings once again.

Because of this he did not notice a woman in a kimono enter the auction hall and take a seat in the back and to the side, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on him.

Shortly thereafter a wild ginseng plant purported to be a thousand years old but actually just over eight hundred was sold for thirty million US dollars.

It was already past one in the morning and Lawrence Stone was thoroughly exhausted. With Xavier Vale's support he got up and slowly made his way out of the auction hall.

The wild ginseng would naturally be delivered to his room by staff. There was no need for him to worry about it.

After a few steps a glint flashed in Xavier's eyes as he said to Lawrence, "Grandfather, that man who boarded the ship with us is also here. Shall I go ask if he found your gold card?"

Lawrence pondered for a moment then nodded. "Even though I have already replaced the card, leaving my belongings with strangers is still improper. Go and come back quickly. I am tired and want to rest early."

"All right."

Xavier helped him to a couch, sat him down, then quickly made his way to Marcus.

"Sir, do you remember me?"

Marcus, with no spare moment for a nobody, waved irritably. "If you do not want to die get lost and do not bother me."

Xavier did not expect this response. After a moment of shock his face darkened. "Sir, knowing too much that one should not can lead to a quicker death."

Marcus raised an eyebrow then burst into laughter. "Xavier Vale, you have the courage befitting a rabbit but your brain is dull. You dare threaten someone who knows all your secrets?

What, you think because Lawrence Stone dotes on you he will not believe what others say?"

The look in Xavier's eyes became anxious. "Who exactly are you? And what do you know?"

Marcus shook his head. "I do not have the habit of answering other people's questions for free."

"Name your price."

"Ten million per question. US dollars."

"Are you kidding me? How could I possibly have that much money?"

"Lawrence Stone does. Is not his gold card in your possession?"

Xavier proved resolute and decisive. After considering less than two seconds he said, "Fine. Tell me your shipboard number and I will transfer it once the old man falls asleep."

Marcus was not worried about him reneging and said directly, "Lawrence Stone is buying the thousand-year ginseng to improve Walter Stone's health, but do you know why Walter needs to improve his health?"

Xavier was immediately alarmed. "You are Mar..."

"As for what I know," Marcus interrupted, "basically if you know it I know it.

For example your relationship with Harold Stone is not any less close than with Lawrence Stone.

Or that you actually do not like men at all. Every time after being with Lawrence Stone you need to find an opportunity to be alone to vomit. If nothing comes up you still force yourself to throw up by sticking your fingers down your throat, lying to yourself that this will make you clean.

And then the person you truly love is Harold Stone's new wife. That woman for the sake of her own glory and wealth deceived you into becoming Lawrence Stone's companion, saying it was the only way for the two of you to be together forever. You..."

"Shut up."

Xavier suddenly growled in a low voice, handsome face twisting wildly.

From the perspective of criminal psychology any deviant has undoubtedly suffered very serious psychological trauma. Trace it back and they may even be quite pitiful.

But Marcus had not played the saint in either of his lives, so he never felt psychological trauma was a reason to harm the innocent.

What is more these days people who do not have some psychological shadows are almost embarrassed to step out and greet others. So why is it just you who turned bad?

If you are going to be aberrant why not do it in front of bad people? Bullying good people is no skill at all.

Trash is trash. It is in the bones and has nothing to do with whether you are mentally ill or not.

Therefore faced with Xavier's pained twisted face Marcus crossed his legs in a relaxed manner, lit a cigarette, and watched with a look of enjoyment.

"Why?"

Recalling he could not stay long Xavier forcibly suppressed his emotions and asked through gritted teeth, "Why do you know so much so clearly? Just who are you exactly?"

"That is another twenty million US dollars you know," Marcus kindly reminded. "Moving so much if Old Stone finds out later that little bit of so-called favoritism will not work anymore."

Xavier pursed his lips. "Then you are telling me all this. You cannot possibly want nothing in return, right?"

"I really do not have much I want. Or let us say..."

Marcus blew smoke in his direction and smiled, "the very thing you are planning to do is what I want, which is why I reminded you about Walter Stone.

Helping you is helping myself. Get it?"

Xavier was silent for a moment. "How will I contact you in the future?"

"You do not need to contact me. Let us just act like we do not know each other.

Old Stone seems to be in a hurry. You should head back now."

Xavier straightened up, gazed deeply into Marcus's eyes, noted his room card number, muttered a thank you, then quickly returned to Lawrence's side.

"What took you so long?" Lawrence asked discontentedly.

"Oh, maybe it was the way I spoke at first that caused a bit of a misunderstanding.

After all this is a gambling boat and it also involves money. It is understandable for someone alone to be a bit more vigilant.

Fortunately I explained things clearly afterward and he said he indeed saw something like a card blown into the sea but thought it was just paper, so he did not pay it any mind.

This time Shan was too careless and almost caused trouble, willing to accept Grandfather's punishment."

Xavier's excuse was watertight, attitude humble, and in the end he even looked a bit wronged, naturally making Lawrence feel even more affectionate, whispering something into the little puppy's ear, which immediately made Xavier flush shyly like a young woman.

Marcus watching from a distance felt utterly disgusted and his whole body turned cold.

The saddest relationship in the world is between the old and the young.

No matter how wise people once were, once they fall for someone younger in old age they instantly become foolish. There are plenty of examples of brilliant young monarchs who became senile as they aged.

About ten minutes later another auction item was sold and the auctioneer told a couple of jokes to lighten the mood before finally announcing the next item.

Marcus instinctively sat up straight, feeling subtle excitement building.

The woman in the kimono behind him noticed this and turned her gaze to the stage as well.

With upbeat music a pair of girls dressed in school uniforms walked from behind the curtains to the front stage.

The short-haired sister remained calm, holding a cylindrical object that looked like a tube for holding drawings except it was excessively long, at least five feet.

The younger sister with long hair hung her eyelids slightly, fair face flushed, like a small animal that accidentally ran out of the forest ready to turn and flee at any moment.

Delicate and timid, she evoked pity.

The auction house really knew how to market.

The sisters were already fair and youthful, the older sister cold as ice and the younger soft as water. Dressed in symbol-laden school uniforms their charm instantly escalated.

Most men harbor two types of desires toward women: conquest and protection.

And these sisters ticked both boxes.

Moreover the auctioneer announced with infectious tone that although both girls had their independent consciousness erased, no amount of intervention from the doll factory's trainers could sever the bond between the sisters.

Unless one of them did something to harm their master, even if forcibly ordered, the other would not hurt her counterpart.

But once they acknowledged a master they would submit completely, regard the master as a deity, even more obedient than a pet dog. So how could they possibly cause harm to their master?

Therefore although there was a possibility they might defy their master's orders they were still deemed perfect.

As for the various skills possessed by the older sister as well as the younger sister's serving techniques there was no need for extended introduction. Dolls previously auctioned had proven anything from the Super Doll Factory was of the highest quality.

After the introduction the auctioneer finally announced the starting bid, and just as Marcus had predicted it was from nine million nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand US dollars.

As soon as the words were spoken a plump socialite raised her bid number high.

"Nine point nine nine million. Lady number zero thirty-two bids nine point nine nine million, any higher. Ah, gentleman number zero fifty-seven adds two hundred thousand. Current bid ten point one nine million US dollars, anyone else..."

The auctioneer's mouth worked like a machine gun, extremely fast and crystal clear, while the audience underneath seemed to have gone mad, raising bid numbers as if playing whack-a-mole, one falling and another popping up immediately.

Marcus grimaced.

Because each minimum increment was two hundred thousand.

It might not seem like a lot but keep in mind this was US dollars. Enough for a regular family of three to live on for a lifetime in America.

But here it merely equated to the privilege of raising a bid number.

In just four or five minutes the bid for the sisters reached sixty-five million and the fervor in the room finally began to cool down a bit.

"Damn it."

Marcus could not help but curse. "Why does it feel like I am the only pauper in the whole world? Where the hell do I go to reason this out?"

Suddenly a burst of laughing and joking reached his ears not far off. He turned and saw four or five smartly dressed men and women entering the auction.

They were all tipsy, completely ignoring disapproving looks from around them, mumbling in their language as they stumbled their way in.

Marcus felt choosing to board the ship tonight might have been a mistake. It was becoming increasingly like getting food stuck in his teeth even when drinking water.

Because as the group joked among themselves Big Pancake Face glanced his way. His smile froze for an instant then twisted into a snarl like a dog robbed of its bone, barking, "American swine."

This outburst even drew the auctioneer's attention. Immediately two men in black stepped forward, barking fiercely, "Shut up."

One of the group, a young man relatively handsome, backhanded Big Pancake Face across the cheek then apologized to the men in black with a smile.

The men in black made it clear. Shape up or ship out. One more outburst and they would all be shark food.

Eyeing Marcus the young man squinted and then made his way over.

Seeing this Marcus shook his head in resignation and muttered, "If there is any country in the world whose people are inherently despicable and trashy to the core it must be those folks."

The woman in the kimono behind him covered her mouth with a smile at these words, eyes alight with interest.

---

Chapter 104: Toads at My Feet

Several Korean men, two Korean women, plus a blonde beauty all sat down near Marcus.

He recognized the blonde beauty. She was Candy who had served him before at the betting arena.

The handsome Korean closest to him leaned over, sticking his obviously surgically enhanced face right in front of Marcus.

"American swi..."

"If another piece of filth comes spraying out of your mouth I will immediately challenge you to a fight to the death, Korean stinkbug," Marcus interrupted coldly.

The Korean's eyes twitched fiercely, clearly wanting to accept the challenge for the sake of face, but sadly he did not have the guts.

"American, you have insulted my brother and that makes me very unhappy."

"Are not Korean stinkbugs meant to be insulted?" Marcus asked with feigned ignorance.

Big Pancake Face flew into a rage. "You son of a bi..."

Marcus directly waved over a man in black not far away, took out his room card after he approached, pointed at the handsome Korean and said, "I have been insulted and I want to issue a fight to the death challenge to him right after this auction."

The man in black turned to the handsome Korean. "Sir, do you accept?"

The handsome Korean was flabbergasted, expression clearly asking why challenge me when Big Pancake Face insulted you.

According to the gambling boat's rules there were only two ways for guests to resolve conflicts: gamble or fight.

Anybody could issue such a challenge. The difference was a fight to the death required payment of one million US dollars upfront to avoid psychopaths killing people under the guise of playing.

Of course the challenged party had the right to refuse but had to apologize to the challenger.

If the challenger did not accept the apology the challenged party had to evacuate and stay no closer than three meters from the challenger.

The handsome Korean's face turned red and after a moment he fiercely slapped Big Pancake Face then bowed to Marcus saying, "Sir, I apologize to you for my companion's rudeness."

The man in black asked Marcus expressionlessly, "Do you accept?"

Marcus had long since turned his attention back to the auction and on hearing this waved dismissively, "Keep those stinkbugs far away from me."

The Koreans were all seething with anger but powerless.

Because the Americans dared challenge them and they did not have the guts to do the same, they had to endure being called stinkbugs repeatedly.

Under the man in black's signal the Koreans moved to sofas three meters away. If looks could kill Marcus would have been sliced a thousand times over.

By now bidding for the twins on stage had reached eighty-nine million US dollars and there were only two bidders left.

The last bid was from the very first bidder, that wealthy woman.

Marcus looked at the wealthy woman's greedy expression from afar and would bet his life she was not a Bodhisattva-hearted woman looking to rescue the twins from filthy men.

"Eighty-nine million. The distinguished lady with number zero thirty-two bids eighty-nine million. Any higher offers?

Keep in mind this is the Doll Factory's first-ever offering of purebred twins, and with such high quality they are a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity not to be missed. Any more bids? Eighty-nine million once. Eighty-nine million twice. Eighty-nine..."

"One hundred million."

In the auctioneer's ridiculously slow pace a voice casually rang out.

Everyone looked in the direction of the voice and saw a young man with a smile on his face, while that wealthy woman muttered a curse under her breath.

Indeed there were quite a few young people in the audience drooling over the sisters on stage, but being young often meant they were not the head of the family yet, without freedom to spend money so lavishly. Prices above a hundred million dollars were not something they could easily afford.

Because of this the guests present thought a young man who could offer one hundred million must come from immeasurable family wealth, and continuing the fight could not only result in loss but also offend someone.

Marcus at the last moment suddenly raised his bid by eleven million, aiming for just this effect.

As the saying goes a great show of strength is not named in vain.

"One hundred million US dollars. Mr. two thirty-eight bids one hundred million US dollars."

The auctioneer's voice grew much louder in excitement. "Are there any higher bids? Mr. two forty-one raises the bid by two hundred thousand, offering one hundred million twenty thousand US dollars..."

Marcus did not even need to look to know the bidders were definitely those Korean guys.

There was no helping it. They were provoking within the rules. Even if he issued a life or death challenge again at most they would apologize and could continue raising bids.

It was like a toad leaping at your feet. Not biting but still irritating.

Sighing Marcus waved his paddle as he beckoned Candy over with a gesture.

Candy looked to the handsome Korean for instructions and only after he nodded did she approach Marcus.

"Sir, I am sorry. They have paid the full nomination fee. I cannot refuse them."

"It is the rule of the gambling ship, not your fault, and I will not mind it."

Whether the hostess's apology was sincere or merely professional conduct Marcus did not care.

Gambling places are meant to spend money for pleasure. Taking it too seriously is just making life hard for yourself.

"Please convey a message for me. Tell them if they want to clear their shame they can come gamble with me. They can set the method. I will set the wager.

If they agree the three-meter restriction will be lifted."

"Yes, sir."

Candy returned and relayed the message and the Korean guys let out triumphant laugh as if they had regained face.

This showed that though they were still being someone else's dogs they pretended to be superior.

The spiritual victory method, something Koreans were very skilled in.

The handsome Korean clearly unwilling to pass up the chance to humiliate Marcus stood up and walked toward him, not forgetting to raise his paddle again, bidding one hundred ten million.

Marcus had no choice but to follow suit and raise his bid by two hundred thousand.

Sitting back down next to Marcus the handsome Korean spoke up. "American. Ahem. American person, now do you realize the consequences of offending our Greater Korea?"

Marcus side-eyed him. "Korean stinkbug, if you want to gamble gamble. If not get lost."

The handsome Korean's face contorted in anger saying, "Fine. We will gamble. If I win you must kneel and apologize saying you Americans..."

"Are you fucking deaf or just brainless?" Marcus cursed. "I just said you set the game I set the stakes."

The handsome Korean choked and started coughing. "No impossible. What is the point if you are only willing to gamble one US dollar?"

"Rest assured. We Americans are not as shameless as you Korean stinkbugs."

Saying this Marcus pointed at Big Pancake Face. "This dog lost fifteen million US dollars to me earlier. Let us gamble fifteen million. Agree? If not get lost."

The handsome Korean's face turned livid with rage, just about to raise his paddle and pressure Marcus again when the auctioneer on stage called the third price and the hammer fell to close the deal.

For one hundred ten million twenty thousand Marcus finally succeeded in taking the sisters.

The handsome Korean instantly regretted his action.

"Damn it. You are so despicable I..."

"I will say it again. Do not apply your filthy Korean stinkbug mentality to me."

Marcus free of worries spoke in an easy tone. "We Americans keep our promises and when we say we gamble we gamble. Quick, do not waste my time."

The handsome Korean breathed a sigh of relief then revealed a cunning smile. He suddenly raised his hand, grabbed Candy's blonde hair, and pushed her head between the two men.

"Let us bet on whether this whore's fingers are even or odd when the sun rises."

Marcus was stunned.

Even though he had prepared himself mentally and had absolute confidence in winning, in the end he realized he had still underestimated the Korean's vileness and meanness.

Clearly the Koreans had named Candy to serve them as revenge.

Just because Candy had served their enemy before.

How filthy. How low.

At that moment Marcus completely lost any remaining fondness for the gambling boat.

Not just because the pretentious rules here prevented him from killing the Korean with a single slap, but also because attendants like Candy ceased to be individuals the moment they boarded the ship.

The gambling boat specifically catered to the wealthy, and the rich could easily enjoy many luxuries on land, so why bother coming aboard?

The so-called extraterritoriality was the most attractive gimmick of the gambling boat.

There is only one law on this ship and that is its rules. Beyond that you can do whatever you want.

And the well-trained attendants were specifically there for this group to vent on.

According to the rules of the gambling boat as long as the full fee is paid the attendant named by the guest is his personal property for the duration of the stay.

To exaggerate a bit you could dissect the attendant and no one would care as long as you did not kill them.

Even if you accidentally kill one it is fine as long as you compensate the gambling boat with fifty million US dollars. Only if you cannot pay do you pay with your life.

In short it is all about the money.

Therefore the fate of gambling boat attendants is often tragic.

Their only hope is a million-dollar salary, substantial tips, and a three-year service period.

After three years they can leave the ship with millions even tens of millions of US dollars and live a carefree life.

It seems like willing fight willing endurance, but peeling back this laughable fair fig leaf exposes hellish darkness and sin.

"Hey American person, do you dare to bet? If you do not dare kneel down and apologize to me."

The handsome Korean urged triumphantly.

From the side the woman in the kimono had sharp cold glints in her eyes with dense killing intent.

Seeing Candy's pale face Marcus sighed and nodded. "Okay."

The handsome Korean became even more triumphant. "You go first. Evens or odds?"

This was a losing bet no matter what.

Because Candy belonged to the Korean until dawn. No matter which option Marcus chose they had time to manipulate the outcome in accordance with the rules of the gambling boat.

And the Korean's triumph lay precisely in this.

He thought he was a genius for being able to take revenge through a loophole in the gambling boat's rules.

Marcus reached out, gently stroked Candy's cheek, and asked, "How long have you been on board?"

Candy already trembling with fear and eyes brimming with tears still managed to force a smile.

"To answer sir, it has been thirty months and seven days."

"So you have half a year to go until freedom. Keep it up. I believe you will definitely succeed."

After smiling at the girl Marcus said, "I will bet on odds."

Upon hearing this the Koreans were startled, Candy was startled, and everyone else including the kimono-wearing woman behind seemed as if they had been petrified.

Because for an escort of Candy's caliber the price of each body part was certainly not cheap. A single finger was worth at least a million US dollars.

Facing a losing bet Marcus's only means to vent anger and retaliate against the Korean stinkbugs was to bet on even numbers.

In that case if the Koreans wanted to win they would have to chop off at least one of Candy's fingers, missing out on a million US dollars.

It was very cruel but for gamblers this was the best choice.

And if Marcus bet on odd numbers then the Koreans would win without doing anything unless he was a psychopath who would rather spend money to play by chopping off Candy's fingers.

Clearly Marcus's purpose was to save Candy.

After a little while the handsome Korean suddenly let out a loud laugh which snapped the others to their senses and they began to laugh as well, especially Big Pancake Face who laughed the loudest.

"The reason America has declined is because there are too many men like you, effeminate and lacking martial spirit. All of you are trash," the handsome Korean said with a disdainful face after laughing.

Marcus's mouth twisted into a cold smirk. "Want to know if I have any guts? Accept a life-and-death challenge and I will tell you personally."

The handsome Korean's expression stiffened and his cheeks twitched twice. "Quit the crap. You lost. Pay up."

Marcus without a word took out the room card and handed it to Candy.

The blonde hostess immediately took a POS-like device out of her bag and quickly completed the transaction between the two parties.

After waving his gold card in front of Marcus the handsome Korean threatened in a deep voice, "You better hope I never see you outside of the gambling ship."

As he turned to leave and had just taken a step a sudden cry was heard.

Unbeknownst to him a kimono-wearing woman had stood behind him and his foot had just stepped on the surface of the woman's foot clad only in a wooden clog.

The handsome Korean thought she was another escort and cursed loudly as he raised his hand to hit her, but suddenly two men in black rushed over and pinned him to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Big Pancake Face asked in anger.

The men in black paid no attention and instead looked up at the woman in the kimono. "Madam, how should we deal with this man?"

Without a trace of emotion the kimono-wearing woman bowed slightly to the Koreans and said calmly, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rika Fujimori, captain of the Asian region for the gambling ship."

The Koreans immediately visibly paled with shock and the pinned handsome Korean quickly shouted, "Fuji, Fujimori Miss, I am sorry. I did not know your identity. Please forgive my impertinence."

Rika Fujimori seemed to glance at Marcus unintentionally and said, "I can forgive you, but according to the rules of the gambling ship you must accept my challenge.

May I ask sir, would you prefer to go to the boxing ring? Or would you like to have a bet with me?"

The Korean who dared not choose the boxing ring repeatedly said, "Bet. I choose to bet."

"Very well."

Rika Fujimori smiled faintly, gestured for the men in black to let him go, then said, "Since you were rude first I will decide the wager and the stakes of the bet. Do you have any objections?"

The Korean rubbing his sore arm had objections but did not dare express them, shaking his head. "No."

Rika Fujimori's smile brightened a bit further. "I watched your entire bet with that gentleman earlier and I quite liked your novel approach to betting.

So let us make the boundary of this bet the exit of the auction hall, shall we?

Please guess sir, when you leave here will the number of fingers on both hands be odd or even?"

The Korean's pupils contracted quickly and he asked tremblingly, "What is the wager?"

"Twenty million US dollars."

After saying that Rika Fujimori added, "That is exactly the price of one of my feet."

The Korean breathed a sigh of relief.

Although twenty million US dollars pained him, being able to solve this trouble with money was already unfortunate good luck.

Thereupon without hesitation he followed Marcus's lead. "I bet on odd."

A glimmer appeared in Rika Fujimori's eyes and her smile bloomed like a flower.

"A smart choice.

Bring them over. Chop off his two fingers."

---

Chapter 105: Usage Rights Versus Ownership

What is true originality? This is the answer.

Marcus clapped and laughed loudly next to her, almost unable to resist hugging the woman and kissing her fiercely.

Even though he had already kissed her countless times in his previous life.

Rika Fujimori, current captain of the Asian region, his future secretary, the kind who could do anything.

Marcus's most profound impressions of her were twofold. One, the more dignified and inviolable she appeared on the surface the more abject and lowly she could be in bed.

Two, she had great ambition, holding an unrealistic dream of becoming queen of the world, and was utterly dedicated to this goal.

As such she would do anything to achieve her objectives.

The man in black covered the handsome Korean's mouth before he could scream, took out a knife, and cleanly chopped off two fingers, then dragged him out.

The other Koreans were so terrified they turned pale and did not dare make a sound, obediently paying the twenty million before slinking away.

Candy was about to follow when Rika Fujimori glared at her and she hung her head and stopped.

"Do you find my actions amusing sir?"

Only then did Rika Fujimori turn to face Marcus, expression cold as if she was about to explode at any moment.

Marcus was not afraid of her. He nodded. "Indeed it is quite amusing."

"What is so amusing about it?"

"Your foot is not worth twenty million. Because you do not take care of it properly, wearing cloth socks every day that do not breathe and are likely to smell."

Rika Fujimori's face flushed instantly, just about to get angry when Marcus suddenly leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "Do not just take care of your breasts. They are already pretty enough in shape.

Since you are willing to spend three hours on them a few more minutes on your feet will not be a big deal.

Men do not just care about breasts you know."

Having said that Marcus brushed past her and headed to the auction's backstage area.

There was a pair of Super Doll sisters waiting for him there. A Japanese woman was not worth wasting too much of his effort.

Rika Fujimori stood there in a daze, right hand lightly touching her chest, unsure whether to be shocked, frightened, or angry.

The fact that her feet were prone to odor might not be a secret, but the daily meticulous care of her breasts was something not even her servants knew about.

Others thought she was blessed by the heavens, not only with beautiful appearance but also perfect skin and body.

But only she knew how much effort she put into maintaining those two assets every day, no matter how busy, spending at least three hours on them.

After all this world is still dominated by men. For a woman to climb up quickly talent is only the foundation. Forever young beauty is the true killer weapon.

She had realized this when she first entered puberty.

Why?

Why could that man know so much?

Just who was he?

Could it be Lord Night Wolf has been watching me all this time?

Rika Fujimori was startled and came back to her senses. She looked around and did not see Marcus then asked Candy, "Where is he?"

"He went backstage."

Rika Fujimori pursed her lips and ordered, "Ask him to come to the captain's room. If he refuses you can jump into the sea yourself."

Candy was horrified and quickly turned to run backstage.

Marcus had just paid the sum and suddenly he was left with only fourteen million eight hundred thousand US dollars in his account.

Although when converted it was more than enough, the thought of losing fifteen million to the Koreans still made him wince in pain.

So poor.

The opportunity was rare and if things went smoothly with Derek he was determined to gamble until dawn no matter what.

As he was thinking the sister duo was delivered right in front of him.

The one who delivered them was a bald old man with glasses as thick as beer bottle bottoms, dressed in a plaid suit, looking like a nerdy professor from television dramas.

In fact most staff at the Super Doll Factory regarded themselves as scientists.

They believed they were exploring mysteries of the human brain and the so-called Super Dolls were just by-products of their research, which would be wasted if not sold to fund costly scientific experiments.

As for whether their research was against scientific ethics and laws or how inhumane and cruel it was, those were not within their considerations.

In short the Super Doll Factory was filled with science madmen willing to do anything for research.

"Sir, congratulations on obtaining the lifetime usage rights to our factory's S-plus level dolls."

The old man in the white coat reached out his hand with a beaming smile, "And please allow me to express our sincere gratitude for your support on behalf of all my colleagues at the factory."

"Lifetime usage rights?"

Marcus did not take his hand, feigning dissatisfaction, "What do you mean? Did I not just spend over a hundred million US dollars and I still do not get absolute ownership rights to these dolls?"

"This..." the old man adjusted his glasses, "I apologize. Maybe my expression was too precise. It is just a formal term.

In actual meaning there is not much difference between lifetime usage rights and absolute ownership rights."

"Do not play word games with me," Marcus played the role of a reckless wealthy heir to perfection. "Does lifetime refer to their lifetime or mine? Does usage rights mean I can only use them and not dispose of them as I wish?

You need to clarify all of this to me otherwise I might just apply for arbitration with the casino."

The old man clearly had not encountered such a situation before and began to sweat profusely on his forehead.

"Lifetime refers to their lifetime and of course you have the right to dispose of them at will.

However there is one condition. Unless they are reduced to ashes our factory will reclaim them after their deaths for further research.

This is all for the advancement of science and improvement of the next generation of products. Please understand."

"I see."

Marcus seemed persuaded, tone relaxing as he stroked his chin and looked over the sister duo.

The two sisters were indeed like robotic dolls, motionless, expressions not changing in the slightest.

"Speaking of reclamation do they have something like a factory reset mechanism similar to smartphones?"

"That is correct," the old man nodded.

"Every Super Doll has a set of initial command passwords. Once entered all their previous memories will be instantly overwritten and they will revert to this current state, and they will only obey the commands of the person who entered the password.

Of course as soon as the new owner's password is successfully set they will immediately obey their master unquestioningly so you need not worry about that."

Marcus furrowed his brow. "So you are saying the initial password supersedes the master's password. Anyone who knows their initial password could take them away from me right?"

"Uh theoretically yes, but the initial passwords for Super Dolls are all saved in our factory's database with access limited to fewer than a handful of high-level executives.

So please be assured. Except when dolls need to return to the factory for repairs or are reclaimed after their deaths their initial passwords will absolutely not be used by anyone.

This is the reputation our factory relies on for survival and you can trust us completely."

"Not even you with all the resources at your disposal know?"

"How could I possibly have access to such confidential information as a mid-level executive?"

Marcus was extremely disappointed.

The reason he had gone to such lengths to trouble the other party was to obtain the initial passwords for the sister robots.

After all in his past life he had paid dearly for this matter when the two people least likely to betray him ended up delivering the most fatal blow.

However upon reflection he also knew the chances of actually obtaining them were slim.

The initial passwords were the most precious secrets of the factory's behind-the-scenes owner, never to be revealed lightly.

Well it did not matter anyway since he did not know when he would meet that person again in this life, and at least before the sisters became enemies their loyalty was beyond doubt.

With this in mind Marcus feigned ignorance and asked how to set the master password.

The old man said, "Wait a moment," then opened his box-like laptop, entered a string of passwords into the menu bar in the middle of the screen, and two minutes later the computer received an email.

The old man handed the computer to Marcus and stepped back two paces before saying, "The email contains their activation passwords. After you read them out in order the ownership recognition process will be complete.

Subsequently you can directly order deactivation of this activation password and set a new one at any time should you decide to give the dolls away."

Even though he had already owned the pair of dolls in his past life Marcus could not help but marvel inwardly after hearing the old man's words.

The human brain is indeed miraculous, capable of producing thoughts and emotions difficult for machines to possess yet can be deceived and controlled by programming just like machines.

If we ignore the darkness and sins of the doll factory the research of these scientific madmen truly contributed greatly to the world.

Of course those dark deeds and sins are inevitably part of the picture unless one completely loses humanity.

He opened the email folder which popped up a document with dozens of English words and terms seemingly unrelated and as though randomly generated, making them quite difficult to memorize.

This was only to be expected. Dolls were meant for personal use after purchase. If the password could be easily cracked would not buying one be like setting a time bomb next to oneself?

Marcus quickly memorized all the words, thoroughly deleted the document, then approached the sister robots and read them out at a volume only the three of them could hear.

It was as if a computer had booted up or as though puppets had suddenly been endowed with souls. The sisters' vacant eyes lit up with a spark becoming incredibly expressive.

"Master."

The older sister gave a deep bow, crisp and decisive, only slightly more lively than her previous woodenness.

The younger sister's reaction was much more enthusiastic. Her eyes suddenly gleamed with surprise and delight as she tightly clung to Marcus's arm, laughing and crying.

"Master. We finally get to see you Master.

Why did you take so long? We were almost dying of anxiety..."

The voice was like a warbler's, crisp with a thick lace of affection. No one who was not a pervert could remain unmoved upon hearing it.

At that moment Marcus's feelings were exceedingly complex.

In his previous life after his wife passed away his soul left him and he became a walking corpse driven only by desire, where even the most beautiful loving woman was to him no more than trouble or bother.

This is why in this life he was a bit more patient in dealing with Quinn Vance.

In his past life that girl had followed him devotedly for ten years yet until his death she never received a single promise from him.

He was scum to the extreme and for that he felt guilt.

As for the sisters standing before him now Marcus felt no debt toward them at all.

Because of their absolute obedience he had not deliberately isolated himself or blocked off emotions, never treating them like playthings but rather interacting with them like friends and family.

Perhaps meeting his end at the hands of these two people's betrayal was exactly the punishment and retribution from the heavens for his scumminess.

After reprogramming a new set of codes for the sisters Marcus hesitated for a moment and said, "From now on you are my family, sharing my surname.

The older sister is Leo Marsh and the younger sister is Blake Marsh."

The older sister's response was as crisp as ever. "Thank you Master for the name."

But the younger sister pouted her rosy lips and coquettishly said, "Why? I am obviously very warm-hearted so why give me a cold name."

"Blake Marsh. Do not be disrespectful to Master," Leo Marsh immediately scolded.

Marcus smiled and tapped the younger sister's nose saying, "It is precisely because you are too warm-hearted that I gave you the name Blake."

"Then what about the Leo in my sister's name?"

"Is not the knife in her scroll case so long it is specifically used for separating limbs from bodies?"

"Ah? Hahaha..." Blake Marsh suddenly burst into tender laugh.

"Brother your naming is so casual so unpolished. Ouch. Why did I call Master brother. Master, Blake likes calling you brother. Can I always call you that from now on? Can I? Can I? Can I..."

Looking down at the girl's adorable big eyes Marcus silently sighed, feeling his two lifetimes completely merge at that moment.

The same words he had heard them once before in his previous life word for word.

"Okay. Call me whatever you want.

But this time it is different because brother is not alone anymore.

I have a wife and she is the best best woman in the world and you will surely like her," he said.

"This time?"

Leo Marsh slightly furrowed her brow but did not ask.

Blake Marsh on the other hand immediately showed a downcast little face as if she could not bear the blow, eyes filling with tears.

"Brother you already have a wife. Wuuwuuwuu.

Then can I be a little bit jealous?"

"Of course you can." As he stroked her head Marcus softly said, "As long as you do not hurt her or anyone else brother cares about you and sister can do whatever you want.

Of course you have to have my permission before killing anyone."

"Brother you are the best."

Blake Marsh pressed her head into his chest, voice muffled, "Why did you have to get married so early? Blake has always been waiting to be your bride."

Though heartfelt sentiment it was a truth coaxed out by a preset program, not the first time Marcus had heard it, and it still felt awkward.

Glancing at the time it was already one forty. He then said, "Alright brother has some important things to do. Let us go."

Turning around he saw Candy standing not far away seemingly waiting for him and asked, "Something the matter?"

Candy glanced at the sisters by his side, bent down, and said, "I have not had the chance to thank you for saving me just now.

Do not worry I will repay you in full for any losses you have incurred."

"Oh?" Marcus smiled and said, "You can already come up with fifteen million US dollars?"

Candy nodded. "I am a little short but I can draw from this year's salary in advance from the gambling boat."

---

Chapter 106: Outstanding Debt

"Forget it," Marcus passed by Candy, "I was very satisfied with your service today. That money can be considered a gratuity for you."

"Sir..."

Candy was about to approach when Leo Marsh suddenly turned around, icy gaze tightening the other's body, making her halt and echo cautiously, "Sir that is too much I cannot..."

"Do you want to go against the guest's wishes?"

"Candy would not dare."

"Then stop your chatter and go about your business."

"But sir..."

Leo Marsh suddenly reached out and stopped her, coldly saying, "The master told you to leave."

Candy panicked and called out loudly over Leo Marsh, "Sir Lady Fujimori would like you to visit her office. If you do not I will jump into the sea."

That damn woman still needs to be put in her place.

Marcus sighed and stopped walking. "Leo Marsh let her come here."

Leo Marsh lowered her arm and Candy urgently circled around her to follow.

"Did Rika specify a time?"

"No."

"Then there is no hurry. I still have things to do. I will go find her after I finish."

Candy hesitated for a moment before asking, "Can I stay with you for a while?"

Marcus suddenly thought of something and smiled as he nodded. "Of course you can. But be careful. The girl I have with me gets jealous easily. Do not let her misunderstand."

Blake Marsh who had been clutching his arm all along immediately bared her teeth at Candy as a threat.

However Candy found her not at all intimidating and responded with a smile. "You are so cute."

Marcus raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

Blake Marsh was a service-type doll. According to the doll factory's standards she really should not have any aggressiveness or lethality, but he knew a secret. The level of danger Blake Marsh posed far exceeded that of her sister Leo Marsh.

This secret was supposed to be known only to the factory's behind-the-scenes boss, but Marcus had not been killed by the two sisters in his past life for nothing.

Taking the elevator to the largest and most premium floor of the gambling ship, the casino, Marcus entered the hall and immediately saw a black-dressed beauty standing beside a massive golden tiger sculpture.

Derek Shaw in terms of looks could be considered more than average, but her tall stature combined with years of training and the nature of her profession gave her an aura of fierceness different from ordinary women.

This aura complemented by her mysterious sexy black gown instantly added allure making her unforgettable at first sight.

"Miss would I have the honor of buying you a drink?"

"No..."

Having been around for just ten minutes Derek had already encountered three or four flirtatious approaches and lost patience. She turned to refuse sternly but seeing it was Marcus her expression first brightened then immediately darkened.

"Sisters hostess. You really know how to live it up."

Marcus chuckled. "Are you jealous?"