Galaxy's Only Triple-S: Five Lords Can't Hold Her novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42 Worthless C Class

Chapter 42 Worthless C Class

67%

+10 Free Coins

A worthless freeloader who’d weaseled her way into a free meal ticket, and she had the nerve to act high and mighty in a 35-class elite’s office? Today, he was going to make sure Cheiron saw this woman for exactly what she was.

Cheiron paused in the middle of sorting through some documents. His gaze lifted from his desk and landed on the red haired male in the doorway,

He hadn’t planned on getting involved in some petty squabble. But Margaret was his guest, and this brainless S-class male was on his turf, trashing his guest.

“You’ve got one thing wrong.” Cheiron said, his brow furrowing slightly. “Ms. Greene is not my cleaner.”

Ardon blinked.

Not a cleaner? So she wasn’t even good enough for that? Just some temp?

He was about to ramp up the mockery when Cheiron’s next words hit him like a freight train.

“Ms. Greene is my guest.”

The hallway went dead silent. Ardon’s brain short circuited with a loud internal clang.

The number of people in the entire Interstellar Era who qualified as personal guests of a 3S-class elite could be counted on one hand. And those people were either high ranking legion commanders holding serious power or top tier alchemists.

And her? A divorced C-class female? No way. Cheiron had to be blinded by her lies.

Phoebe, standing off to the side, had frozen too,

A guest? Her mind raced. She’d busted her ass coming to the hospital every single week to do free cleansings, just to get Cheiron to recognize her face. And Margaret had done nothing. Nothing! How was that fair? But she couldn’t let any of this show in front of Cheiron.

Phoebe was seething inside, but she managed to force a tiny smile onto her face. She took a small step forward, lowering her head just a little.

“I saw Margaret around your place the other day. And I heard you’d just let your housekeeper go, so 1 assumed… I assumed she was applying for the job.”

She played it humble, made it all sound perfectly reasonable. That explanation covered why she hadn’t stopped Ardon earlier, while also subtly pointing out that Margaret was so low class that applying to be a cleaner was the best she could do.

She was certain someone of Cheiron’s standing wouldn’t tolerate some lowborn nobody with a sketchy background.

A soft laugh came from the couch. Margaret shifted positions, propping her chin on one hand as she studied Phoebe in the doorway with amusement.

In just a few words, Phoebe had wrapped an insult in the packaging of an innocent misunderstanding.

111

1/2

12:22 Mon, 6

Chapter 42 Worthless C Class

Trying to tear her down while playing the sweet, pure angel in front of Cheiron?

“So,” Margaret drawled, “in Ms. James’s eyes, the best I’m good for is being a cleaner. Is that it?”

The color drained from Phoebe’s face.

67%

+10 Free Coins

Margaret wasn’t following the script at all! Any normal female hearing that would have either hung her head in shame or scrambled to defend herself in a huff.

If Phoebe admitted it, she’d look like she looked down on commoners. If she denied it, then her whole speech just became a deliberate provocation.

Phoebe bit her lower lip. Her eyes went red around the edges fast. She took half a step back, her shoulders trembling just a little, standing there looking completely wronged without saying a single word.

Ardon took one look at her and saw red. He shoved Phoebe behind him and jabbed a finger at Margaret’s face, unleashing a torrent of abuse.

“What’s with the attitude? Phoebe was just trying to make excuses for you, and you have the gall to bully

her?

“Ms. James is an S-class female! She spends every week at this hospital saving people! And you? What are you? A worthless C-class nobody. What can you even do besides latch onto men and mooch off them?”

Ardon had completely forgotten where he was. All he wanted was to grind Margaret into the dirt and force her to see her place.

Margaret sat on the couch, thinking that Ardon’s hair-trigger temper was just so boring.

If Ardon knew that the worthless C-class nobody he was screaming at was now the only 3S-class female in the entire Interstellar Era… she wondered if he would just explode on the spot.

Still, watching a show was kind of entertaining.

Cheiron pressed a hand to his temple.

Suddenly, he understood perfectly why Margaret had said she was so happy to be divorced. Living with a male who had nothing but muscle between his ears and couldn’t even follow a simple conversation was

pure torture.

Listening to this kind of mindless yelling every day would drive even the most patient person insane. Margaret had put up with it for as long as she had. That made her pretty damn tolerant in his book.

“Sir,” Cheiron stepped out from behind his desk, his leather shoes clicking against the floor. The spiritual power of a 3S-class beastman rippled invisibly through the air, pressing down toward the doorway. Unlike the gentle test he’d used on Margaret before, this time the gravity in the room seemed to multiply tenfold in an instant. Even the sensor lights in the hallway flickered and buzzed with static.

Ardon’s breath caught in his throat. Cold sweat broke out across his back in an instant. His S-class spiritual power, the thing he was most proud of, felt like a single drop of water standing in the middle of an ocean when faced with Cheiron. He couldn’t even muster the thought of fighting back.

2/2

Mon, 6