NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 26: The Aftermath
The Goojji store had been transformed from a temple of luxury into a battlefield where dignity went to die. The pristine marble floors, once reflecting the gleam of designer handbags and Italian leather, now served as a treacherous skating rink of shame. Every surface told the story of Jin's spectacular downfall—the designer racks standing like fallen soldiers, baptized in brown despair that would require industrial-grade therapy to forget.
Jin swayed in the center of his ruined kingdom, his protagonist swagger shattered like expensive crystal dropped on concrete. The confident smirk that had carried him through countless face-slapping scenarios was nowhere to be found, replaced by the hollow stare of a man watching his delusions crumble in real-time. His hands trembled as the reality of his situation began to sink in, his mind desperately cycling through explanations like a broken record player.
First came denial: "This is impossible! I'm the chose one!" Then paranoia crept in: "Someone sabotaged me! This has to be sabotage!" Finally, desperate bargaining: "This is all just a misunderstanding! A test of my character!" But the universe itself seemed to have turned against him, transforming his moment of glory into the most spectacular public humiliation in mall history.
"This is... this is merely a test!" Jin's voice cracked like a teenager going through puberty, his words echoing through the devastated store with all the authority of a wet napkin. He raised a trembling fist toward the ceiling, as if challenging the very gods of protagonist privilege. "This can't be happening! This isn't how it's supposed to go!" But the universe, much like his bowels, had clearly moved on to other priorities.
Jin attempted to take a step forward, to reclaim some shred of his dignity, but his cheap worn out slippers—now brand new under the new paint in their own right—had found their perfect nemesis in the slippery coating decorating the floor. WHOOSH His feet went up, his body went horizontal, and gravity reintroduced him to the floor with the enthusiasm of a wrestling referee counting to ten. He crashed directly into a designer mannequin, sending both of them tumbling in a heap of limbs, fabric, and existential crisis.
The overwhelming humiliation, combined with the physical exhaustion from his overwhelming rebellion, finally took its toll. Jin's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious onto the devastated floor, his body giving up the fight against both shame and physical depletion.
The crowd's jeers reached a crescendo that would have made Roman gladiator audiences proud. "THERE GOES THE EMPEROR OF THE FOOD COURT!" bellowed the business suit man, his voice carrying over the chaos like a victory trumpet. "I TOLD YOU TO GO BACK TO YOUR TAXI!" the teenager with the phone shouted, his TikTok followers probably multiplying by the thousands as the video went viral in real-time. The elderly man who'd compared Jin's brains to scrambled eggs was now pointing and wheezing with laughter. "Look at that! Even his consciousness is rejecting him!"
Outside the glass wall, Vincent leaned casually against the transparent barrier, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes with the satisfaction of a man who'd just witnessed the greatest return on investment in human history. His shoulders shook with barely contained mirth as he watched Jin's unconscious form sprawled among the chaos. "Worth every VP," he murmured to himself, his voice carrying the contentment of someone who'd just watched their favorite movie reach the perfect ending.
Helena stood beside him, her expression a masterpiece of conflicted emotions. Her eyes darted between the chaos inside the store and Vincent's amused profile, pieces of a very disturbing puzzle clicking into place in her mind. She remembered the exact moment—Vincent approaching that nervous intern, the way he'd discreetly produced cash and whispered instructions, the mysterious bottle he'd been holding. The timing was too perfect, his amusement too knowing.
"Vincent," she said slowly, her voice carrying the weight of dawning realization. "That intern... the water... the way you're not surprised by any of this... You knew exactly what would happen, didn't you?"
Vincent's smile widened, but he didn't deny anything. If anything, he looked pleased that she'd pieced it together so completely. Helena's lips twitched, torn between horror at the absolute devastation and grudging admiration for the sheer audacity of it all. Her pulse quickened as she studied Vincent's face—the sharp intelligence in his eyes, the dangerous charm that had orchestrated this entire spectacle with surgical precision.
"You're a monster, Cornelius," she said, but her hand lingered on his arm, her touch speaking louder than her words. The way her fingers tightened against his sleeve betrayed her fascination with his calculated ruthlessness.
"Thank you," Vincent replied smoothly, as if she'd just complimented his choice of tie. "I do try to excel in my chosen fields."
Inside the store, the intern—still clutching her 50,000 Rubi like a lifeline to sanity—was making her way toward the exit with the stealth of a ninja and the guilt of an accomplice. Her wide eyes darted between the chaos and the money in her hands, her internal monologue probably running a cost-benefit analysis of unprecedented proportions. "Textbooks or therapy," she muttered under her breath, stepping carefully around the brown disaster zones. "Maybe both. Definitely both. Oh god, what have I done? Do they make therapy for being an accessory to... to biological warfare? Is that even a crime? Should I confess to a priest? A psychiatrist? The police? Maybe I'll just change my name and move to another country. Tibet sounds nice. Do they have colleges in Tibet?"
The store manager, his face having cycled through every shade of green known to medical science, was making one last desperate attempt at damage control. He approached Jin's unconscious form with the cautious movements of someone approaching a wounded animal—or in this case, a wounded protagonist with a biological weapon system. "Mr. Ashera," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, "perhaps when you wake up we could discuss a settlement? Maybe some store credit? Free dry cleaning for life?" But Jin was beyond negotiation, lost in unconscious escape from his spectacular downfall.
"GOOJJI APOCALYPSE GOES VIRAL!" shouted the TikToker, his phone held high like a victory banner. "HASHTAG BROWNPOCALYPSE! HASHTAG KARMA! HASHTAG I'M NEVER SHOPPING AGAIN!"
The mall's intercom system crackled to life, the voice of someone who clearly hadn't been trained for this particular emergency echoing through the corridors. "Attention shoppers," the voice announced with the forced calm of someone reading from a script that definitely didn't cover biological warfare. "The mall is now closing due to... unprecedented circumstances. Please evacuate immediately. Hazmat teams are en route. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."
As if summoned by the announcement, the first wave of hazmat-suited professionals stormed through the mall entrance like a SWAT team responding to a nuclear incident. They moved with the efficiency of people who'd probably seen everything but were about to have their worldview challenged in ways their training had never prepared them for.
"Johnson Sato, you're point man on this one," barked the team leader, consulting his tablet with the expression of someone reading instructions for defusing a bomb.
"Why me, sir?" Johnson's voice was muffled by his protective gear, but his reluctance was crystal clear.
"Because you drew the short straw. Literally. We held a lottery."
"Sir, my equipment is rated for chemical spills, not... whatever this is. What do I even put in my report? 'Defeated by inhumane shit'?"
"Just... document everything. The insurance company is going to think we're making this up."
Vincent gently took Helena's hand, guiding her away from the chaos toward the VIP parking area where his Rolls Royce Phantom waited like a sleek obsidian monument to luxury. The mall's neon signs flickered around them—FoodCortopia, Wailmarts, Nokla, Abibas—casting a surreal glow over the evening's festivities, their knockoff brands adding an almost dreamlike quality to the apocalyptic scene.
They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, both processing the magnitude of what had just transpired. Helena found herself stealing glances at Vincent's profile, noting how the neon light played across his sharp features, highlighting the satisfied gleam in his eyes.
"Ready to escape the chaos?" Vincent asked, his voice carrying a low, intimate tone that made Helena's breath catch.
Helena's laugh was a mixture of nervous energy and genuine thrill, the kind of sound that comes from someone who'd just witnessed something that would haunt her dreams and fuel her fantasies in equal measure. "After that?" she said, her voice slightly breathless. "I need a drink. Or several."
Vincent's eyes gleamed with dangerous promise as he stepped closer, opening the Phantom's door for her with old-world courtesy that somehow made his calculated ruthlessness even more appealing. "My penthouse has an excellent bar. We can decompress properly, away from all this madness."
Helena paused, her hand on the car door, meeting his gaze directly. The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of the evening's events adding an electric charge to every word. "Just drinks?" she asked, though her tone suggested she hoped the answer was no.
Vincent's smile was enigmatic as he helped her into the car. "We'll see where the evening takes us."
Behind them, the mall continued its evacuation, the chaos of Jin's downfall becoming the stuff of legend. But for Vincent and Helena, lost in the intimate darkness of the Phantom as it glided through the city streets, the real adventure was just beginning.