Chapter 647

In Marvel, the System Works for Me

Harold loved neither his wife nor his children.

His lack of feeling left him lonely and hollow.

Harold had once worked hard, hoping to take the family business to new heights.

But there was no need.

A powerful family's connections, information, talent, and other resources meant he didn't have to work hard at all. Money flowed in like water from a tap.

That was how the world worked: the rich had an easier time making money.

In the end, Harold fell into a drug-fueled haze like so many wealthy heirs. Then one day, someone handed him a black business card. On one side was a white skull, maggots crawling through its empty eye sockets. On the other was nothing but a phone number.

The man told Harold his name was Xila. He was a merchant who sold unusual things: pain, torment, murder.

Xila blindfolded Harold and led him into a room.

It was dark, damp, and empty.

A middle-aged man stood inside, haggard and thin, fear buried beneath the numbness in his eyes.

Xila said the man was terminally ill and had volunteered to be killed in exchange for money for his family.

His price was... 20,000 beli.

Unimaginably cheap.

Xila handed Harold a loaded revolver.

"Enjoy yourself." Xila bowed gracefully and left with a smile.

Harold held the revolver, hesitating until his palm grew slick with sweat. Then he pressed the barrel to the man's temple.

Bang!

Red blood and white brain matter splashed across his face. Harold clutched his chest and felt his heart hammering.

"Ha... hahahaha..."

His shock gradually turned into sick, wild laughter.

After that, Harold bought "death" from Xila at regular intervals.

About a year later, Harold was no longer satisfied. That was when Xila recommended a more