CHAPTER 48: THE ZONE WHERE ZIPPERS DIE

The game stopped. Blacklist players just stood there, sucking wind, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else.

Only Jinzo stepped forward, fists clenched. His voice cracked, loud as Hell.

"No! We’re not done! I’m not walking off like this!"

The manager tilted her head slightly.

"You’re finished. Don’t make this uglier than it already is."

Jinzo’s jaw went tight. He whipped around, eyes wild.

"Don’t act like this is on me!"

He pointed at Mac.

"He can’t guard air!"

Then at Drex.

"He slips on his own sweat!"

His eyes locked onto Nia.

"And this bitch is out there modeling instead of playing! How am I supposed to make us win?!"

Mac flinched, Drex didn’t even look up, and Nia casually blew on her nails, unbothered, like none of it concerned her.

The manager stepped in front of him now, arms folded.

"You’re getting smoked. 21-0. The other team’s leaving you so much space, you could park a truck out there, and you’re still getting clowned."

She stepped closer, her voice lower.

"Every single time you touched the ball, you ran at their best player like you had a death wish. That’s why you lost. Not hard math. You know what I see? Not a team. Just your ego, crash-testing itself for fun."

Jinzo bit down hard, jaw flexing. His eyes burned as the crowd screamed Nash’s name.

"Blaze! Blaze! Blaze!"

Some girls surged forward and practically jumped on Nash. Boobs bounced against his chest, faces pressed close, hands tugging at his clothes.

Before he could enjoy this delightful chaos, a few guys lifted him onto their shoulders. He waved casually, grinning, soaking in the moment as the system flashed its message.

SYSTEM QUEST COMPLETE

Category: Priority

Objective: Play a breakball match at the street court within 3 hours

Reward: +30 PP / +15 BP / Unique Passive Skill / +5,000 Credits

Bonus: All Daily Quests will give 3x rewards for the next 3 days

Nash grinned widely. What a damn good day.

But something caught his eye. Zayela was trying to make her way toward him, but some guys were getting too close, bothering her.

He jumped off the guys’ shoulders.

"Yo," he said sharply, cutting through the crowd.

He walked straight toward her, shoulders squared, expression locked in.

Time to remind everyone again: she was with him.

People crowded around Nash, clapping his back, shouting his name. Girls tried to stay close, but Nash kept Zayela tucked beside him, one arm looped casually around her waist.

She leaned into him, eyes wide and sparkling.

And then came the silence.

Heels clacked, sharp and heavy, parting the crowd like fire on roaches.

The manager stepped forward, her gaze cold, mouth curved in quiet amusement.

"Pathetic," she said. "The average level here is so low, an under-trained team could’ve crushed you all. It only took one change to make my stallions kneel."

She stopped right in front of Nash and pulled out the matte black card, sliding it into his hand.

Nash blinked, eyes narrowing as he turned it over.

MIDNIGHT REST – VIP ACCESS

His heart jumped. The Midnight Rest. The elite sex club Nia worked at.

"Name’s Victoria Graves," she said, crossing her arms beneath her full chest. "I’ve rarely seen raw talent like yours. I think you have what it takes to become a monster in the Underleague. I want to discuss it."

Zayela had stars in her eyes.

Victoria stepped closer, tilting her head slightly.

"Come to the Midnight Rest. Now. Let’s talk."

Nash’s lips parted. He was ready to say yes on the spot, until two things hit him hard.

First, the venue. A sex club? Really? Was that seriously where she wanted to talk business?

Second, Zayela.

This night was supposed to be theirs. No stress, no plans, just time together and maybe a happy ending. After everything they’d been through, he wanted to honor that.

He turned his eyes to her, unsure how to even phrase it. But before he could speak, she made the first move.

Zayela placed both hands on his chest and gave him a light push, her eyes sharp, voice almost scolding.

"Are you joking right now? Why are you considering?" she said. "This is what you’ve been working toward. This is everything we want. You better run there and come back with that paper signed."

Nash blinked, then laughed dryly. Of course. Her fire was back.

She didn’t even hesitate.

Victoria smirked and stepped in with confidence.

"Don’t worry about it," she said. "I’ll make sure he signs every paper."

After the party died down, Nash took Zayela by the arm, weaving her through the mess of people until he was sure she made it to the train.

Waited there, just to watch the doors swallow her up, only then did he peel off.

He ducked into Victoria’s car, the kind of ride you see in movies, all angles and threat, the door thunking shut like a bank vault.

Inside, velvet and leather everywhere, deep reds and blacks. Smelled like someone spilled cologne and roses on a pile of secrets. The lights glowed low, more like a den than a car.

Felt like you were about to get both seduced and mugged.

Nash sat up straight, trying not to look like a farm boy at the opera. Kept his hand on his knee, just in case.

"So, about this contract—"

Victoria waved him off, one leg slung over the other.

"Patience. Every part of the experience is part of the deal. Even this drive. Just enjoy the ride."

The car cruised deeper into the city, sliding past the regular districts until the world just... shifted.

Then boom, Red Zone.

Like walking into somebody’s wet dream with the volume cranked.

Every corner lit up with neon in every shade of sin: scarlet, hot pink, violet. The whole place was bathed, throbbed with it.

Signs everywhere, none of them shy, porno palaces, S&M clubs, brothels, fetish shops, love hotels stacked up like a pervert’s birthday cake.

You could hear people going at it before you even saw them, moans, gasps, the slap of skin. Couples pressed against balconies, half-naked and not giving a single damn who watched.

On the sidewalks, sex workers leaned in, lips glossy, skirts nonexistent, boobs and asses out for the world. Nobody bothered to pretend.

Some women flashed toys, some just bent over and let whoever have a go, giggling like it was all some wild party.

The air was thick, sweat, perfume, pure want. Louder than the traffic, and twice as wild.

This wasn’t just a place to buy sex.

This was where sex moved in, paid rent, and threw the keys away.

It was excess and appetite, built into brick and neon.

Nash swallowed hard.

Here? Here’s where all the lines blurred, where whatever you dreamed about came crawling out to play.

Victoria caught him looking and just smirked as the car slowed for the last turn.

Up ahead, a glass-walled club glowed red as a wound. Two women in shiny latex stood guard, arms folded, faces blank.

Above, the sign:

MIDNIGHT REST

Here he was. Welcome to Hell. Or paradise, take your pick.