Natasha leaned back on the sofa, crossed her arms, and looked at Hus with bright, piercing eyes.His expression remained unreadable.
Just this calm and unshaken deanor made the pressure in Hus's heart suddenly surge.
He couldn't quite pinpoint where this pressure was coming from.
Natasha wasn't displaying any overt arrogance or contempt—she was composed, almost serene.
Yet, Hus couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't facing a stunningly beautiful woman, but rather a being of overwhelming majesty and authority.
Beneath her calm exterior, he sensed a terrifying storm brewing.
Hus swallowed discreetly, suddenly realizing that these human friends he had just t were different from any humans he had encountered before.
There was an unwavering confidence about them.
And that kind of confidence was the most terrifying of all.
Because people like this weren't just self-assured—they truly understood their own strength and position.
Hus had road Hell for tens of thousands of years. He had seen and experienced much.
He could tell that these people were not to be trifled with.
In Hell, you either had authority or knew soone who did.
And if soone was untouchable, that ant they were either a supre being—or soone connected to one.
If such a person was valuable, then befriending them might be worth the risk.
These thoughts flashed through Hus's mind in an instant.
Having co to a decision, he imdiately discarded his previous hesitations and said, "I told you, I want to be friends with you."
He looked at Natasha with genuine sincerity.
"In Hell, if you want to survive, you can never have too many friends."
"I, Hus, have only survived in Hell by making the right friends."
"But why do I feel like in Hell, friendship is always a luxury?" Natasha replied with a slight smile.
A demon, speaking of friendship?
It sounded like a joke straight out of a cody.
"Precisely because it is a luxury, I have many friends, my beautiful lady," Hus said, undeterred.
"Though I do not know your purpose in coming to Hell, I believe you need a reliable friend."
Hus didn't argue—because it was the truth.
Instead, he simply continued to show his goodwill.
"Mm-hmm~"
Natasha raised her chin slightly, signaling for Hus to continue.
He glanced at the others, considered for a mont, then said,
"In Hell, I know a great many things. Whatever you need, I can get it for you."
"Of course, so things co at a price—but I can guarantee that no one will cheat you."
"Furthermore, I have many connections in Hell who can help you gather the information you seek."
Hus was straightforward, laying out his thoughts openly.
This surprised Natasha and the others.
Hus's approach was simple—he was making an investnt.
He believed in his own judgnt and was willing to spend ti, effort, and even friendship to cultivate the right relationships.
That kind of initiative required considerable courage.
For him to make this move after eting them only once...
And through their observation—through their mastery of perception, their ability to sense the world around them—they could clearly feel the sincerity in his words.
"You are quite interesting," Natasha remarked.
"May the light of friendship shine upon us."
She sat up straight, picked up a glass of wine from the table, and gestured toward Hus.
"May the light of friendship shine upon us," Hus replied solemnly, raising his own glass.
The others followed suit, lifting their glasses and downing the wine in one go.
Setting his glass down, Hus, now considering them friends, got straight to the point.
"So tell , what brings you all to Hell?"
"Believe , I run things around here."
He spread his large hands confidently, exuding an air of authority.
"We're looking for opponents—powerful opponents," Natasha answered.
"...Huh?"
Hus blinked, a question mark practically floating above his head.
anwhile, on a clean and well-maintained street in an affluent area of Long Island, New York, a sleek McLaren sports car cruised slowly along the road.
The deep, intoxicating roar of its engine echoed through the neighborhood, turning heads as it passed.
After driving for quite so ti, the car finally pulled up in front of the towering iron gates of a grand estate.
As the vehicle ca to a stop, a security cara scanned its license plate and the driver's face.
After a successful identification, the iron gates swung open automatically, allowing the sports car to glide smoothly down the driveway.
In the passenger seat, Skye—dressed in an olive-green jacket over a white T-shirt—held a blue backpack in her lap.
Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she gazed out the window, taking in the breathtaking scenery.
Driving along, the first thing that ca into view was the garden.
Neatly arranged flower beds lined both sides of the cobblestone path, and the trees swayed gently in the breeze.
Their branches moved in rhythm with the wind, sending soft floral scents drifting through the air.
The scenery was srizing.
"Wow, is this where you live?" Skye asked in awe.
"Leon, you're so lucky."
Admiring the view, she couldn't help but sigh in admiration.
Leon, who was focused on the road, cast her a sideways glance before shrugging.
"Believe , there was a ti when I had less money than you. Everything you see here—I earned it through my own efforts."
There was a confidence in his voice now.
Of course, what he didn't ntion was that the wealth behind this estate originally belonged to Dreykov, a billionaire and forr leader of the Red Room.
When Leon killed Dreykov, he had simply taken the man's fortune as a natural consequence.
Sure, the thod of acquisition might have been... extre.
But it was for Natasha.
For revenge.
For freeing Natasha's family from their past.
For liberating those poor Black Widows who had suffered under the Red Room's control.
And as for this lavish estate?
It was rely a small reward—one of the many spoils of war that had co his way.
So no, it wasn't an exaggeration to say that he had earned this through his own efforts.
Skye, however, couldn't fully grasp the aning behind Leon's words.
She kept her gaze fixed on the passing scenery, her eyes wide with wonder.
Having grown up alone, struggling at the bottom of society, she had never seen wealth like this.
A billion-dollar mansion...
If she could live here, every day would feel like a dream.
She smacked her lips, making a silent vow to herself.
She was going to get closer to Leon.
She would beco the mistress of this manor.
She had already promised to join Leon's side, but her ambitions extended beyond just seeing the new world he spoke of.
She had her own dreams to chase.
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