Chapter 9 Turning the Tables
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Hubert’s car wasn’t flashy a Mercedes—but in Grey Hollow, even that was enough to turn heads.
Azalea got in first, and now, to get out, she’d either have to squeeze toward the traffic side of the road or ask Hubert to move.
Just about to speak, she hesitated when Hubert pushed open the door and stepped out of the car himself.
“Thank you, Mr. Lennox,” Azalea said politely, ready to leave.
“Your phone.”
“Huh?” Azalea blinked at him in confusion.
Hubert gave a soft chuckle. “Weren’t we going to exchange contact info?”
Azalea quickly pulled out her phone and handed it over. Hubert didn’t hold back–he saved his number and even added her to WhatsApp while he was there.
Once she had her phone back, Azalea jogged into the gaming café.
The bodyguard in the driver’s seat asked, “Mr. Lennox, are we heading back to Crestmere Estate or Ashbourne Villa?”
Hubert leaned back in his seat. “Park somewhere with a view of the café entrance. The view here’s not bad. We’ll leave later.”
The bodyguard was stunned. Not bad? That wasn’t just a lie–that was a bold–faced bluff.
The street was chaotic and cramped, filled with a weird, sour smell. Every few steps, some kind of mysterious liquid pooled on the pavement.
The two bodyguards exchanged looks.
Mr. Lennox worries about the girl walking home alone at night, right?
Has to be. Think he’s really interested in her?
Doesn’t she look like that orphan he sponsored years ago?
She’s from the Larks, though. Doesn’t match up.
Silence.
In the back seat, Hubert had no idea his subordinates were spinning wild theories. His sharp gaze was fixed outside the car window, brows furrowed.
This place was no environment for a young girl living on her own.
Still, he had no plans to just hand her an apartment–securing her safety would be enough. He believed she’d figure out her own living situation soon enough.
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Chapter 9 Turning the Tables
Inside the gaming café.
The moment Azalea walked in, heads turned. Most of the regulars here recognized her.
49%
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She went straight to the counter, got her usual computer, and logged into the game with practiced ease.
She was a bit late, but the peak match window was still open–she could squeeze in a few games.
Tonight, luck was on her side–matchmaking was fast.
“Why’d you pick Seraphina as Siren? That hero got nerfed hard. She’s barely playable now.” The yellow- haired guy named Morgan beside her leaned over to watch, his eyebrows shooting up when he saw her shockingly high–ranked score.
When she locked in the Siren, he couldn’t help muttering.
Azalea glanced at him sideways. “That’s your Siren.”
Morgan snorted. He couldn’t wait to see what this young girl was really made of.
The game started.
In peak matches, you couldn’t see the usernames of your teammates or opponents. But Azalea’s eyes locked on the enemy jungler. Something told her–it was Wylie.
No real reason. Just pure instinct.
She wasn’t born a gaming genius, but she had a sharp mind for numbers.
In her past life, Bastian’s team had hit a major slump. Trying to help him, she memorized the respawn timers for every jungle monster in Glory League, every cooldown for every skill, and the numerical buffs for every item in the game.
That gave her a huge edge–she could calculate enemy cooldown windows to the second. In her eyes, as long as they were in vision, every enemy hero was practically see–through.
She thought about the matches she’d played back then to support Bastian’s team–and couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh.
Back then, she’d proven herself by stepping up. Sydney warned her that girls in esports would be bashed constantly, discouraging her from going public.
And she had been such a fool–instantly volunteering to wear a cap and mask on stage just to keep a low profile. She had played for years and carried Bastian’s team to unprecedented glory. And when Sydney said she wanted to experience the excitement of the esports stage, too, Azalea had to give up her own
account.
Sydney wasn’t bad–decent enough for a pro team—but she took Azalea’s handle, her identity, and all the fame of being the only female pro.
And Bastian let her.
He even had the nerve to try and convince Azalea, saying, ‘You’re good enough to start over with a new account. Let Sydney have her moment. Let her?
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Chapter 9 Turning the Tables
+10 Free Coins
The game’s opening sound snapped Azalea back to reality. She let out a slow breath. This time around- nothing that belonged to her would be given up.
She focused on the screen in front of her.
The game was intense. The playstyle of the enemy jungler confirmed it–this was definitely Wylie.
Morgan gaped beside her. “Wait–how the hell did you predict that?!”
Right as the Siren on screen, hanging on by a sliver of health, twisted her steps to narrowly dodge a lethal ability–a semi–lock–on skill, no less.
Azalea smirked. The enemy’s skills were off cooldown now. She wouldn’t hesitate to dive in for the kill if she were them.
“But it’s a shame. Your other four teammates are all dead, and your wave’s in a bad spot. Game over,” Morgan muttered.
“Not necessarily,” Azalea said, hands flying across the keyboard as she restored her Siren’s health.
The enemy team pushed up onto the high ground.
Azalea’s Siren stepped out of the base.
“No way!” Morgan practically leaped out of his chair. If he hadn’t been watching her screen, he would’ve thought she was cheating.
Her Siren activated her ultimate–a blossom–filled dance field–and what looked like aimless dodging was, in fact, flawless evasion. Every second skill was used to its maximum potential.
She dodged every single enemy ability and exploited their cooldown windows.
Penta kill!
The pentakill animation lit up across the screen.
Her teammates respawned. A quick counterattack. Game over.
Exactly 30 minutes.
The game’s results page loaded.
“Wait, that’s Dog God!” Morgan pointed at the enemy jungler’s ID: GOD.Cerberus.
The pro tag was a dead giveaway.
Just as she exited the match, a red dot popped up in Azalea’s friend requests. It was no surprise that it was from Wylie.
GOD.Cerberus: Interested in going pro?
Phoenix: Add me, and we’ll talk.
Azalea sent her WhatsApp and logged off. Mission accomplished for the day.
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Chapter 9 Turning the Tables
Morgan stared at her like she’d just descended from heaven. Then, without warning, he lunged and grabbed her leg. “Hey, please take me with you!”
Azalea’s face went deadpan “No”
She went straight to the desk, logged out of her station, and left.
Outside, the streetlights flickered. Summer nights turned dark fast; unfortunately, the path home took her through a pitch–black alley.
She hunched her shoulders and sped up. Two thugs squatting by the roadside exchanged looks and stepped in her way.
“Hey, little gamer girl. We’ve been watching you for days. You’re really good at games, huh?”
“Heading home already? Why not come play with us for a bit too?”
Their greasy grins spread as one reached toward her.
Azalea wasn’t surprised. Grey Hollow was chaotic–being targeted as a lone girl was expected.
Her eyes sharpened. Without a word, her hand reached toward the side pocket of her backpack–where she kept a fruit knife.
But before she could move, a cold hand grabbed hers. “Not tonight,” a deep voice said calmly. “My girl needs to get home and sleep.”
She turned her head. Hubert.
He hadn’t left?
He stood a full head taller than her–close to just under 6’3“. Just standing beside him felt reassuring.
Azalea’s nose stung. She was so used to handling everything on her own that she didn’t expect anyone to step up and protect her.
His hand was cold, but the skin where he touched her burned like fire.
The two thugs hesitated. This guy clearly wasn’t someone to mess with–especially with the luxury watch peeking out from under his sleeve.
Even they, who were ignorant, could tell that it was valuable.
Before they could decide whether to back off, Hubert’s two bodyguards flanked them from behind and made the choice for them.
“It’s not safe for a young girl to stay outside alone at night.”
The police came quickly and hauled the men away.
Hubert let go and took a step back, giving her some space.
“You didn’t leave yet?” Azalea asked.
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Chapter 9 Turning the Tables
Thibert looked down at her. Just passing by.”
The bodyguards nearly choked.
Passing by! Mr. Lenner, what road are we on that goes through here?!
If you care, just admit it. You literally stood in the night wind for 30 minutes!
Azalea clearly didn’t buy it either. She glanced at his car, parked discreetly in a corner, but didn’t call him
After the wave of emotion passed, her mind sharpened again. Why was Hubert helping her like this? What did she have that was worth all this effort?
She couldn’t figure it out.
Azalea stepped back a bit more. “Thanks again for helping me. Next time you’re free, let me treat you to dinner.
“Sure,” Hubert agreed.
“Then I’ll get going.” She headed toward her rental place, walking faster and faster.
Behind her, a steady beam of light followed–never too far or close. It didn’t vanish until she made it through the dark alley.
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