Became a Demon with Pregnancy System-Chapter 126: Judgment Society

Yet something else felt...off. Lenora was scanning the area, but the slight tension in her posture suggested she was waiting for someone specific—perhaps even on a mission.

That outfit is suspiciously out of character for her, Luke mused. It’s more akin to what you’d see from a disguised agent or someone—

Just then, a voice broke his train of thought. "Luke? Hey, Luke!"

He turned to see Walter Murphy stepping out of the same private club, accompanied by a few of his newly-made associates. Walter, the scion of the Murphy Family, had recently become a key player in local business dealings—particularly in distributing the military’s blood agent.

Luke had run into him earlier in the evening. Now Walter hurried over, pressing a sleek black card into Luke’s hand.

"Tutor Luke," Walter said, still insisting on calling him "Tutor," likely out of habitual respect, "take this black-gold membership card. Our family’s sponsoring this club tonight for out-of-towners. Might be something interesting for you inside...though, you look like you’ve got your own plans."

Luke eyed the black-gold card. "So it’s a VIP pass?"

Walter nodded, a trace of pride on his face. "Exactly. No line, no fees. You can enjoy the club or book a private room. If you, um, need any...services," he added, turning briefly pink.

Luke smirked faintly. "Appreciate the offer. Got your number earlier, so I’ll keep in touch if something comes up."

Walter turned to leave, but Luke suddenly grew serious. "Walter," he said quietly, "things aren’t always what they seem. Be careful."

Walter hesitated. "Wh...what do you mean?"

Luke only shook his head. "Think it over," he replied. With that, he stepped away, heading directly toward the scarlet wall where Lenora Quinn stood, exuding an air of sultry detachment. Walter Murphy, perplexed, watched from a distance before shrugging and returning inside the club.

Lenora Quinn felt the drizzle against her cheeks, but her greater annoyance was with the stiff cheongsam. She had been stuck standing near this red wall for days, feigning the role of a street girl.

Everything about it irked her: the prying eyes, the catcalls, and the thick layers of makeup. Yet the Judgment Society needed a covert presence in Arcadia, and she was the only suitable enforcer who could pass for this role without being recognized by the average bystander.

She checked her phone’s clock. "Ugh," she murmured, "they’re taking forever.

Do they think I have infinite patience?" Frowning, she pulled out a small compact mirror and glowered at her reflection. "This is your final day of this nonsense, Lenora. Either they show, or I call it off."

A subtle beep in her earpiece: a voice whispered, "Any sign of them?"

She pressed a finger to the hidden device behind her ear. "No, but keep eyes open. If they don’t show in ten minutes, I’m pulling out."

The instructions from the Judgment Society had been explicit: a ring of criminals, men tied to black-market demon trafficking, were rumored to frequent this club’s underbelly.

Disguised as an escort, Lenora was to lure them into a private room, gather evidence, then signal for backup.

I wonder if we actually need more people. I can handle them alone, she thought, forcibly checking her impatience.

She scowled. Why do these men always run late? The question had hardly formed when a footstep drew her attention.

A man approached—a tall, muscular figure in a rugged jacket, with the glint of confidence in his eyes. Long, somewhat wild hair fell over his forehead, still damp from the drizzle. Wait...he looks...

"Little brother, you here to play?" she asked in her practiced "come-hither" tone, though her posture stiffened with recognition.

Even under the half-drawn lights, she recognized a face reminiscent of her past—a changed name, new identity. Is that Luke?

Luke parted his lips in an exaggerated grin. "Oh, I’m definitely here to play, but I heard from an acquaintance that maybe we could get a discount."

A flicker of confusion passed across Lenora’s carefully painted eyes. He’s not one of the traffickers—he’s an old ally.

But she couldn’t break character, not yet. "Heh, depends who referred you," she purred. "But sure, I can knock a couple hundred off for a friend of a friend."

Luke adopted a theatrical look of surprise, as though he were an actual customer. "Nice. Then how about 600 for a short session? I heard the standard might be less at certain places. Are you marking up your prices?"

Lenora nearly choked, but forced a husky laugh. "Why, my dear, it’s definitely worth the cost. Service is top-tier, so you won’t regret a single coin."

She pressed a manicured hand to his shoulder, the cheongsam parting just enough to expose a deadly length of thigh. To the untrained eye, she was just a seductive woman hustling for a quick profit.

Internally, she screamed, Keep it together. She had to remain in character in case anyone else was watching. She lifted her chin, adopting that same wry, half-lidded gaze. "So, 600. Or 1,200 for the entire night—twelve hours, anything you want."

Luke nearly burst out laughing at how serious she sounded. "Sure, I’ll take the quick option," he replied, keeping a perfectly straight face. I wonder how far this will go until the real target shows, he thought.

Lenora’s eyes narrowed slightly. I can’t deny him, she told herself, I must appear available to all passersby.

Mustering a lazy smile, she jerked her head toward a side stairwell. "Then follow me upstairs. We’ll find a cozy spot."

They walked into the adjacent building.

The corridor smelled faintly of stale cigarettes and spilled liquor, accentuated by the neon glow from old-fashioned lamps. Lenora led Luke to a room with battered walls and a flickering overhead light.

The moment Luke stepped through, three men in black suits lunged from the shadows. Ropes lashed around him in seconds, binding his arms and torso.

One man pressed a gloved hand to Luke’s mouth. "Don’t make a sound," he hissed. "Judgment Society business."