Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 41

Chapter 41 My Guest

Chapter 41 My Guest

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Margaret lounged on the couch with her legs crossed, observing him as if he were some street performer putting on a show. Her face hadn’t shifted an inch. Her stare was so composed it was nearly dull.

Truth be told, she felt like laughing.

Cheiron made his way down the corridor toward his office. The moment he turned the corner, he caught sight of two figures standing outside his door.

A red-haired male, tall and brawny, was fixed on the open doorway with a glare so fierce it looked like he was ready to tear someone apart. Beside him stood a female in a pale pink dress, hovering slightly in his shadow with her head lowered, the picture of sweetness and fragility.

Cheiron’s pace faltered for just a split second.

His gaze swept over the female, and he realized she was the one he’d seen a couple of times recently. What was she doing at the hospital, and why was she outside his office?

Then it clicked. Phoebe was the S-class female who came to the hospital all the time for cleansing work, the one with a good reputation on the forums. He remembered thinking she seemed decent enough.

An S-class female who volunteered at the hospital every week to help cleanse unmated males didn’t come around often. Whenever she showed up, his staff would make a point of mentioning it; how many sessions she’d done that day, how many people she’d helped.

Back then, he’d figured she was probably a decent person.

But now, the only thing Cheiron could think of was the expression Margaret wore whenever Phoebe’s name came up. Pure revulsion, as if she’d bitten into something rotten. All of a sudden, he found himself unable to muster any liking for the female hovering at his door. An odd sense of detachment had crept in, one he couldn’t quite put into words.

Cheiron thought he was being a bit silly, but whatever.

His attention shifted to the red-haired man. That face was familiar, too. Cheiron rifled through his memory and quickly landed on the answer.

Margaret’s file had three photos in it. Her three former beastman husbands, Raikes, Kiran, and Ardon. The redhead was Ardon. S-class male, A class registered hunter with the Free Mercenaries Guild.

What were these two doing together?

He kept walking, his leather shoes making soft sounds against the floor.

Phoebe spotted him first. Her head, which had been lowered, snapped up. Her eyes lit up instantly, like someone who’d been waiting forever had finally arrived, She stepped forward half a pace. “Mr. Jewett.”

Cheiron glanced at her, gave a small nod, and didn’t say a word. He didn’t even slow down. He just walked right past her and into his office.

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12:21 Mon,

Chapter 41 My Guest

Phoebe’s smile froze for a split second.

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Even Ardon was caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Cheiron to be so cold, just walking straight in. But then he figured it made sense. Cheiron was a 35-class elite, one of the most powerful beings in the whole Interstellar Era. Of course he wouldn’t recognize some random S class. Once Cheiron sat down, Ardon would go in and introduce himself.

He stood in the doorway, holding his breath, waiting for the show to start. From where he was standing, he had a perfect view of Margaret lounging on the couch with her legs crossed, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.

A cleaner, sitting on her boss’s couch, slacking off, and getting caught red-handed. She was about to get ripped a new one.

Ardon’s lips were already curling up. Phoebe stood off to the side too, a faint smile playing on her lips.

They waited for Cheiron to lay into her.

And Cheiron did speak. But his tone was calm, almost polite.

“Going to need a little more time,” he said, walking over to Margaret. “There’s a document I have to deal with. Just hang out here for a bit.”

Margaret pulled her gaze away from the window and looked at him. “Sure. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Cheiron nodded. “I’ll handle it fast. Then we can head home.”

Those words hit the two people in the doorway like a bomb going off right next to their ears.

Their faces froze solid.

Ardon’s mouth hung open. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but not a single word came out.

He was aware that the woman standing before him was not the same as before. Yet every time his eyes landed on her, he couldn’t shake the image of the old her, the one who used to scurry around his feet at home, refill his glass without being asked, and bow and scrape like a servant.

Back then, if he so much as raised his voice, she’d tremble like a leaf and hardly dare to breathe.

She’d been nothing but a useless decoration, passing out cold after giving them even a simple cleansing. And now this decoration was sitting on Cheiron’s couch like she owned the place, and Cheiron himself was being all polite to her?

None of this made any sense! Ardon’s fingers cracked as he clenched his fists. Something had to be wrong.

He lurched forward, jabbing a finger in Margaret’s direction on the couch, and jacked up his voice.

“Mr. Jewett! Is this the kind of behavior you expect from your cleaner? Guests are waiting at the door, and she can’t even be bothered to lift a finger. You should’ve never brought someone like her on board to begin with!”

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12:22 Mon, 6