NOVEL NEXT Chapter 130: Fiancé? Him? Really?
Artis, watching the show like a bored god toying with mortals, just smirked and clapped Hajin on the back—hard enough to make him stumble forward.
"No problem, brother."
He said, grinning like he'd just saved Hajin from a fate worse than death.
"But let me ask you something. Why the fuck are you using that tiny axe to hack away at that big log?"
He motioned to the comically small axe in Hajin's hand, which was doing about as much damage to the wood as a wet noodle slapping a brick wall.
Hajin froze. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
"H-Ha, that… uh…"
He scratched the back of his head, looking like a guy caught jacking off in a confession booth.
"That's because my boss told me to use the small axe to… uh… cut the log faster."
Artis blinked.
"Faster?"
"Yeah…"
Hajin laughed awkwardly. "Apparently, the smaller axe makes the work quicker."
A long, painful silence.
Artis just stared. Like. Stared. The kind of stare that could strip a man's dignity down to his sweaty underwear.
"Brother."
Artis rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache coming on.
"How the actual hell does that make any sense?"
"It… uh… it just does?"
Hajin's voice went up at the end like a man desperately trying to convince himself of his own bullshit.
"Cutting the log quicker? How… wait. Are you getting paid per log?"
Artis squinted at Hajin, half-expecting this to be some elaborate joke.
"Yeah," Hajin said, nodding like a man who just discovered fire. "It's per log. And I've been hacking away at this one since morning. Almost halfway through."
Artis followed his gaze to the pathetic, half-mutilated log.
There it was, standing strong, unbothered, and probably laughing at Hajin's life choices.
'Is he fucking dumb?'
Artis's brain short-circuited for a second. Either this guy was actually an idiot, or he just didn't give a single fuck about making money.
Like—let's get this straight. He gets paid per log. But instead of using the big, chonky, manly axe that could split the damn thing in two like a whore's legs on a payday, he was stubbornly whittling away at it with a glorified toothpick… because his boss said so?
What the actual fuck?
If this reasonably built man had used the proper axe, he'd have already chopped through three or four logs, maybe even had time for a quick nap and a beer.
But no. Here he was, stuck in a doomed love affair with a single stubborn log, sweating like a sinner in church.
Artis exhaled through his nose, hard.
"You must be thinking my fiancé is dumb, right?"
Artis snapped out of his internal roast session when Lily's syrupy-sweet voice cut through the air.
He looked up, only to see her smiling like a woman who had already accepted the tragic fate of being engaged to a moron.
"No, no."
Artis started, but before he could even try to salvage Hajin's dignity, Lily gracefully obliterated it.
"You're wrong," she said, flipping her hair with a dramatic flick of her wrist. "He's not dumb. He's a coward."
She delivered it so casually, so effortlessly, like she was commenting on the fucking weather.
"Darling…"
Hajin croaked, visibly wounded.
But the moment he turned to plead for sympathy, Lily shot him a glare so sharp and lethal that his balls practically retracted into his body.
Ding-ding-ding!
Before the tension could fully settle, a loud bell rang in the air, signaling the end of a shift or possibly the start of Hajin's funeral. Your next read awaits at My Virtual Library Empire
The inner work station erupted with movement as a crowd of rowdy, sweaty, half-naked men shuffled out.
And they weren't just regular sweaty men. Oh no. These were the kind of testosterone-fueled, dirt-covered bastards who thought bathing was a luxury and deodorant was a government conspiracy.
The moment they spotted Lily standing there in all her feminine glory, their demeanor shifted instantly.
Their sweat-dripping, calloused hands stopped rubbing their chests, and instead, they turned their mocking, shit-eating grins on Hajin.
Like hyenas spotting a wounded gazelle.
"Ah, Lily, dear."
Agrizzled man with a beard long enough to store a family of squirrels purred, sauntering up. He flexed his biceps, veins bulging like he was about to give birth to a muscular snake.
"Come on, just feel this. I know you wanna touch it." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Don't be shy."
Lily smirked, unfazed. She glanced at his sweaty, glistening, probably disease-ridden arm and wrinkled her nose.
"No, thank you," she said, chuckling as she waved him off like a bad smell. "I don't wanna touch stinky, sweaty arms."
The men cackled, slapping each other's backs while Hajin just stood there, laughing awkwardly.
"Ah, Hajin, you lucky bastard."
The bearded brute grinned like he had just downed three pints of ale, then reached out and forcefully ruffled Hajin's hair, nearly knocking his whole damn head off.
Hajin, bless his whipped soul, just smiled through it and took it like the well-trained puppy he was.
"Come on, Lily, party with us real men!"
Another one of the walking hormone factories chimed in, puffing out his hairy, sweat-drenched chest.
"Not this cowardly idiot. We'll show you a real good time."
This time, Hajin actually reacted. His jaw clenched, his eyes twitched—a flicker of manly defiance sparked to life!
"You guys can't talk—"
Unfortunately, his testicular courage lasted all of half a second.
The moment one of the burly men cocked a brow at him, Hajin's soul immediately folded like a cheap chair.
"Sorry, sorry."
He muttered, looking down like a scolded puppy.
Artis, meanwhile, was barely holding in his laughter. This was better than a damn stage play.
Lily, however, was entirely unfazed.
She brushed a hand through her luscious hair, cocked a hip, and gave the most condescending little chuckle.
"Nah," she said, waving them off like they were pesky mosquitoes. "I only need this coward. I don't need men with wives and kids who can't even keep it in their pants."
"Get lost."
A loud "OOF" ran through the room, like Lily had just kicked every single one of them straight in the balls.