Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 87

Standing before a dilapidated, crumbling building, Marguerite and Nancy finally breathed a sigh of relief. Although it was broad daylight and no one would dare do anything brazen, walking through such a neighborhood was still nerve-wracking. They had encountered quite a few biker gangs along the way.

The building was a high-rise, packed with tenants. The moment they stepped inside, they were hit with a cacophony of noise and a medley of unpleasant odors.

Nancy pinched her nose. “The rent here is cheap, only two or three hundred a month, so a lot of people live here.”

“If we knock on this main door, it’ll probably lead to a shared apartment. The person we’re looking for might not be in the first room we check.”

As she spoke, Nancy knocked on the door. A moment later, a gruff voice yelled from within, “Who the hell went out without their key again? I’m not your damn doorman!”

A greasy, overweight man wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts opened the door.

Nancy immediately threw a hand over Marguerite’s eyes. “Don’t look at that filth!”

Marguerite and Nancy, with their refined demeanor and stylish clothes, stood out starkly in this environment. The fat man’s eyes roamed over them lewdly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, well, what are two pretty ladies like you looking for?”

“None of your business!” Nancy retorted, still shielding Marguerite’s eyes as she peered into the apartment. Just as she’d suspected, the main entrance opened into a hallway lined with smaller doors—a co-ed living arrangement.

“Then I’m not letting you in!” the man declared, blocking the doorway and reaching out as if to push Nancy. But his hand was aimed not at her shoulder, but at her chest.

On the floor below, two large men who had been watching the situation from the stairwell exchanged a tense glance. Should they intervene? Their boss had ordered them not to reveal themselves, but their primary directive was to ensure Ms. Lopez was never in any danger.

After a split second of deliberation, they nodded to each other and were about to move when they saw something tumble down the stairs, shaking the entire staircase.

Just as he struggled to get up, an unseen force yanked him, sending him tumbling further down. He looked up in terror to see two menacing, brawny faces glaring down at him. Before he could scream, two swift punches knocked him unconscious.

Marguerite, oblivious to the commotion, stepped into the apartment, unwilling to waste any more time. Nancy followed, her heart swelling with admiration. “I had no idea you were so tough.” All this time, she thought she had been protecting Marguerite, but it turned out to be the other way around. She could have cried.

Marguerite grinned. “It’s nothing special. Just an average day for the third-best fighter in the world.”

The apartment, no more than six hundred square feet, had been crudely divided into six separate rooms. Only one door was open—likely the fat man’s. The rest were closed.

“I’ll do the knocking,” Nancy offered. It was an honor to do anything for Marguerite.