A pungent cloud of white smoke hit his face, but Fatty Wong dared not utter a word of complaint because in front of him stood a large group of tough-looking individuals, surrounding him. He was too scared to move.
“Speak up, scared speechless?” A buzz-cut man gave Fatty Wong a slap.
“I’ll give you money, money, I have money.” Fatty Wong, frightened, quickly pulled out his bank card and was snatched away by the buzz-cut man. The buzz-cut man then threw it to the waitress, “Deduct fifty thousand, the remaining tens of thousands are for the expense of that slap just now, my slap is not for free.”
“Yes, sir.” The waitress left, only to return shortly to have Fatty Wong enter the password.
“F-Fifty thousand… can it be a bit less?” Fatty Wong trembled.
“Sixty thousand.” The buzz-cut man, without even looking up, said while smoking.
“Fifty thousand, I’ll give, I’ll give.” Fatty Wong immediately entered the password, his hands shaking.
Fifty thousand dollars.
That was the cost of one meal.
Oh my.
So unfair.
But even with such unfairness, he couldn’t argue back.
After taking the money, the thugs retreated to the side, not returning to the private room. They knew that another encounter might happen soon. Nelson, leaning against the wall and smoking, was their leader.
His name was Nelson.
A notorious tough guy in the area.
He had made quite a fortune relying on this hotel, mostly through extortion. Every month, there would be at least one naive guest, some too embarrassed to speak up after the hotel promised to send gifts to their addresses they had filled out. They were afraid of being tracked down if they reported it to the police.
So, there had been no negative news about them so far. The annual fools just kept on coming, and troublemakers hadn’t come yet. If they were local, they knew them well and wouldn’t easily offend. If they were outsiders, they wouldn’t dare to come back for revenge. Even if they did, they had people above them.
But Nelson had yet to encounter someone tougher than them.
So, Nelson considered himself quite the genius for thinking of such a lucrative way to make money, with little risk involved and the potential to grow even bigger. At that moment, he was even considering opening another hotel somewhere else to continue scamming people.
As Fatty Wong paid up and saw the thugs leave, he breathed a sigh of relief. He then turned to Opal beside him, embraced her, and said, “Just fifty thousand, no big deal. My business is booming, Opal. You’re happier with me than you think, because I’m wealthier than you think.”
“Is that so, darling?” Opal replied in a coquettish manner.
In reality, she was internally ridiculing him. Just a moment ago, he was scared stiff, reluctant to part with fifty thousand, and now he was claiming to be wealthy again? But even with her disdain, Opal maintained a facade of admiration. After all, Fatty Wong might not have big money, but he had some.
She responded sweetly to Fatty Wong.
“Oh, by the way, I heard Bliss Village produces pearls. Let’s buy some as souvenirs for my sisters, what do you think?” Opal tugged Fatty Wong’s hand.
“Pearls.” Fatty Wong hesitated. Buying pearls would definitely cost a lot, and he was still reeling from spending fifty thousand just now.
Seeing Fatty Wong procrastinate, Opal immediately let go of his hand, turned around, and pouted, “You were just bragging about how rich you were and how happy we were, and now you won’t even buy a few pearls? Hmph.”
Opal was throwing a tantrum, making Fatty Wong quickly say, “Let’s buy.”
“Now that’s my good boyfriend.” Opal replied, returning to his side and snuggling up to him.
Fatty Wong still looked a bit pained, but then he glanced over at the trio who seemed to be enjoying the show, and he couldn’t help but sneer, “See, fifty thousand is nothing to me. But for you guys, it’s probably a huge sum. Not to mention fifty thousand, even sixty-six thousand might be beyond your reach. Poor schmucks.”
By belittling Robin Bailey and his companions, he sought to elevate himself. This was something he often did. After his remark, he left, arm in arm with Opal.
Meanwhile, Jeff Reczek’s lips twitched, “Where did that fatso get his confidence? Daring to call us poor schmucks… if that’s the case, Kisia must not have many wealthy people.”
Confidence like that was rare nowadays.
The nearby waitress, upon hearing this, chuckled scornfully, “Complaining about sixty-six thousand when you can’t afford it. ‘We are poor schmucks’, then there wouldn’t be many rich folks around. Blowing hot air is your specialty.”
“Hey, you guys, check please.” The waitress placed the bill on the table and looked at them.
Robin Bailey took out six hundred and sixty-six and tossed it in front of the waitress, gesturing, “There, six-six-six, straight payment.”
“Hmph, quite bold.” The waitress sneered, “Six-six-six, sending beggars away, huh? Boss, come over here, we got more people asking for a free meal.”
“I thought I wouldn’t need to step in. Turns out, these folks do have some courage,” a burly man, similar in stature to Jeff Reczek, joined in, followed by most of the group.
He was following behind Nelson.
Nelson’s right-hand man, Marco Miller.
Rough and aggressive, his appearance made the waitress take a step back, a hint of fear in her eyes. His presence was primarily due to Jeff Reczek’s imposing stance. However, Marco Miller could hold his own.
There was also one other person who looked rather ordinary, clearly a non-combatant.
They still outnumbered the trio.
Dealing with them would be quite simple.
“Dining for free at my establishment, do you really have a death wish? You know, the last group who dined for free here now have their graves with the grass as tall as you.” Nelson swaggered over, about to blow smoke in their faces as he usually did.
But Jeff Reczek suddenly interrupted, “Do you know, my boss doesn’t like others blowing smoke in his face.”