Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine-Chapter 215: Russian Who Drinks Chardonnay

The Mercedes-Benz Sprinter finally rolled to a smooth stop before Gold Cuts — a five-star fine-dining restaurant famous across the continent for serving steaks that could allegedly make grown men cry.

The golden logo gleamed like royalty under the warm evening lights, and the pristine stone steps that led to the revolving glass doors had been walked by politicians, oil barons, and celebrities whose faces graced magazine covers more than news anchors.

Getting a table here required a miracle.

A reservation took months.

A walk-in? Impossible. But when you’re Jason...

He stepped down from the luxury bus, arms casually wrapped around his three European models who clung to him like giggling vines.

"And I said..."

Jason cackled mid-story.

"... if the steak’s not bleeding, I don’t want it!"

The three girls laughed like his joke was the best thing they’d heard all year, and honestly, with his grin, it probably was.

Vincent followed, hopping down with some cool.

He adjusted his collar with a little smirk and casually began texting someone, probably lining up his next date for after dinner. Typical.

Still inside the Sprinter, Irina sat in the corner seat, head lowered, thumbs dancing across her phone screen with focused disinterest. Her white hair shaded her pretty blue eyes as her face remained bland.

Pulsar noticed... and frowned slightly.

There was a pause.

A heavy pause.

Pulsar’s heart sank just a little.

『I kinda feel bad for her. Maybe she’s still thinking about what Jason said earlier...』

Irina liked to pretend she wasn’t bothered by things, like she was cold and untouchable.

But Pulsar knew better.

Irina idolized Miss Mercury.

She just never admitted it.

And hearing Jason rip into her like that, with his smug tone and stupid facts... well, that would’ve stung. Idol slander hits different when it’s public and you can’t even defend them.

Pulsar bit her lip, thinking harder now.

『Sorta like how I always let Vincent badmouth Scott... I’ve never really defended him properly. I Just keep quiet and let it slide, like his name doesn’t mean anything to me... sigh~ gonna have to move on from that at some point.』

A dull, guilty look painted her soft face.

『Sigh~ that talk with Nadia really did help me realize a few things. But... I kinda hate the fact that I even needed someone to tell me that in the first place.』

She stood there, arms loosely crossed, cape hanging slightly from her shoulders, just staring ahead at nothing.

Then—

"So..."

Irina suddenly asked in the stillness.

"... what do you think of Scott McQueen?"

BOOM.

Steam practically erupted off the top of Pulsar’s head like a geyser as she straightened with a loud KRRRK! — back snapping ramrod straight, eyes wide like she’d seen the devil himself.

"Eh—erm—wha...?"

She blinked rapidly, choking on her own breath.

"S-, Scott—?!"

She froze up.

『Where the hell did that come from!?』

Her blood ran cold.

『I’ve never told anyone about my personal life, and I know for sure Vincent wouldn’t have said anything either. So where the hell did that question even come from?! Did I tell Irina at some point? No... no, that can’t be. There’s no way I would’ve told Irina. It just doesn’t make any sense. I’ve always been careful not to talk too much about Scott around other women—I didn’t want them getting interested and trying to steal him from me!』

Her small hands flew to her flat chest instinctively, as if shielding it from shame.

『Besides, I already know I’m not exactly winning in the "womanly" department, so there’s no way I’d ever tell Irina about Scott. She’s got those massive things on her chest and yet she’s somehow supposed to be the same age as me... Seriously? Damn. I’ve even lost count of how many people have asked Scott if he’s into little girls just because I’m built like a kid.』

Her face scrunched up like a child taking meds.

『Tch, people can be so damn insensitive.』

The more she thought about it, the redder her face got until her ears looked like cherry tomatoes.

"Huh...?" Irina blinked in confusion.

She coolly tilted her head to the side as she stared at the now-sizzling Pulsar who stood frozen, visibly clutching her own non-existent chest like it had just betrayed her.

"... Are you okay?"

Irina stepped closer.

Too close.

BOUNCE!

Pulsar’s eyes shot down like reflex and immediately caught sight of Irina’s big, round, too-bouncy-for-reality breasts that seemed to leap at her with every step — like they had minds of their own and were hellbent on making her feel insecure.

"Lucky..."

Pulsar muttered bitterly, pouting like a five-year-old.

"Huh...?" Irina blinked again. "What?"

She leaned in further, confused.

Bounce. Bounce.

Pulsar gasped and held her hands out as if to physically block the boobs from attacking.

"T-, Too much...!" she squeaked, face beet red.

"Eh?"

Irina was so lost.

Realizing this situation had gone way off track, Pulsar cleared her throat, loud and posh like a politician about to speak.

"Ahem—ahem! So, uhm—about earlier... how do you know about Scott McQueen?"

She asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Irina lifted a brow, resting a hand on her curvy hip.

"It was just a casual question?"

She shrugged.

"He seems like a really handsome guy... yunno? Like the kind of model that should be on, like, a million ads and runways. But I haven’t seen him in many..."

She paused, looking away with a faint smile.

"... Maybe something like a runway where he’s shirtless and covered in oil, ehehe..."

Pulsar blinked.

Irina blinked.

"...ahaha. I mean where all the models are shirtless!"

She corrected quickly, laughing awkwardly.

"Not just him! I’m not, like, sexualizing him or anything like that... obviously."

There was a pause.

A long, painful pause.

Pulsar stared at her like she was a creature that had just crawled out of the uncanny valley. Meanwhile, Irina gave her those sheepish little side-eyes and nervous chuckles to fill the unbearable silence.

"... ahaha. Forget I said that..."

Irina whispered, twiddling her thumbs.

Pulsar folded her arms and asked, suspiciously—

"Wait a second... Irina. Do you like Scott?"

Just hearing herself ask that question made her stomach twist.

But she reassured herself internally.

『Haha, there’s no way Irina would be into someone like Scott. I mean, she’s Russian, so she probably prefers those super manly guys—like William Roosevelt. Scott’s a little on the softer side, yunno, a pretty-boy... well, mostly just his eyes and eyelashes. Other than that, he’s actually perfect for me. Was perfect...』

Sigh~

She quickly shook away the gloomy expression and plastered on a confident smirk like she already knew what Irina’s answer would be.

"Well actually..." Irina began.

Pulsar’s expression froze.

Irina scratched her cheek and looked to the side, blushing just slightly.

"... I don’t wanna say I’m, like, in love with him or anything, but... he’s kinda interesting? And... kinda handsome too. Well... a lot handsome, if I’m being honest..."

A sleazy little grin formed on her lips.

CRITICAL HIT.

Pulsar turned pale.

Stumbled back.

Like she’d just been shot in the chest with a sniper rifle called betrayal.

"Uhm... are you okay?" Irina asked, concerned now.

Before Pulsar could answer, the restaurant doors opened with flair.

"Come on, ladies!"

The Peak shouted from the entrance, grinning.

"Our table’s ready!"

He turned to the reflective glass and immediately struck a pose, flashing his own smile back at himself before pulling out a shiny silver comb to adjust his already over-gelled hair.

Pulsar and Irina stared blankly at him.

Then sighed in unison.

Stepping down from the Sprinter, they were greeted by the grand atmosphere of Gold Cuts — chandeliers hanging like frozen fireworks, gentle piano music floating all around, and a long velvet carpet that looked like it cost more than Pulsar’s luxury penthouse.

The moment Pulsar stepped in, all eyes briefly flicked her way — businessmen in sharp suits, Middle Eastern royalty in flowing white garments, and one lady who looked suspiciously like the President of Zheron.

But after a second, everyone returned to their food.

Pulsar blinked.

"... Oof. I was kinda expecting a bigger welcome. I mean, I am me."

Irina shrugged casually, brushing her hair behind one ear.

"Well, it’s to be expected. This place is for elites. They probably see megastars way bigger than you every week. Erm, no offense."

She smiled sweetly.

Pulsar chuckled, shaking her head.

"None taken. Honestly? I like the lack of attention. Means I can finally enjoy my steak without being asked for selfies every five seconds."

The two walked further into the golden-lit hall, surrounded by the finest luxuries known to man.

And yet Pulsar still couldn’t stop glancing at Irina’s side profile.

Or the way she smiled.

Or the words she’d just said.

『Scott McQueen... interesting, huh?』

She narrowed her eyes.

Surely, this night was far from over.

━ ━ ━ ━

[Stream ended!]

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Nightwatch was still on the rooftop, one foot pressed firmly on The Traumatizer’s back as he fought to double-knot the rope around the old bastard’s arms.

His hands were steady, but his stomach wasn’t.

"Hkkg—!"

Another dry heave left his throat, loud and guttural, as his body convulsed. His jaw clenched and his eyes watered. He’d already emptied everything in his gut ten minutes ago, but his body still refused to believe the nightmare was over. Just being near The Traumatizer was like trying to tie up a sewage tank that could speak.

And sadly... it had spoken. A lot.

Nightwatch paused, swallowing hard.

His eyes were dull from trauma.

He muttered in a rasp—

"Please... don’t let me ever meet this guy again..."

He tugged the ropes tighter with one hand while the other hovered shakily over the comm in his ear.

Click.

"Any... urrrghk... any luck on Cat Lady?"

There was a long pause filled with static before Gadget Girl’s voice finally buzzed through.

[Uhm. No. Sorry about that. I’ve... I’ve run a city-wide scan, but there’s nothing. It’s almost like she’s... left the city entirely.]

Then came a sudden, violent cough from her end.

It sounded wet and gross.

[Urghh... sorry—ugh, yeah. After hearing what that old bastard said, I think I need to take like five antacids and maybe a coma before I start running the triangulation process for her next location...]

Nightwatch sighed through his nose, voice scratchy—

"Yeah... sorry about that."

Gadget Girl chuckled softly, voice still weak but warm.

[Aw~ thanks for worrying, boss. But hey, don’t worry about me, worry about yourself first.]

There was a lot of affection in her voice.

[You sound like you’re dying.]

He couldn’t see her, but he could tell she was smiling.

He smirked under his mask.

Then suddenly—

[UUHHM! I’M IN SERIOUS PAINS TOO, Y’KNOW!!]

Jake’s voice screamed through the comm like a jealous toddler.

Nightwatch clicked his tongue. "Whatever, dude..."

He finished securing the rope with a triple knot—because once someone hears what The Traumatizer has to say, you never risk letting them talk again. He stepped back, trying to catch his breath...

BLAM!

A bullet whizzed past his face.

"GAHH—?!"

He staggered back, eyes wild, body tensing.

More gunfire followed, the sharp cracks echoing across the night sky.

"THE HELL?!"

Nightwatch whipped his head around and spotted them — police snipers across rooftops and officers taking aim from the street below.

"OH, FUCKING HELL! I’M HELPING YOU GUYS CATCH THE BAD GUY, YUNNO—?! THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS ACT LIKE DECENT PEOPLE!!"

He pointed furiously at the tightly bound Traumatizer.

Then... one of the officers down below winked at him.

A small smile followed.

A silent message, maybe?

Kinda like—

"It’s just for show. We got you."

Nightwatch blinked.

Then slowly, his mouth curled into a grin

"Oh nooo~"

He cried out dramatically, staggering backwards like a cartoon character.

"Uhhhm, looks like that bullet I thought I dodged actually gave me a fatal hit...!"

He waved his arms and clutched his chest like a horrible theater kid.

"I-, I’m falling...! Ahhhh, it hurts sooo much—!"

Fwoosh—!

He hurled himself off the building.

And just before gravity claimed his soul, his grappling hook shot out with a clean snap, catching a far spire. He swung off dramatically while some squad cars gave a half-hearted chase, sirens wailing like embarrassed chaperones forced to play tag.

He already knew the drill.

Most of the cops seemed to be on his side, especially Commissioner Bennett.

It was all optics. Politics. Protocol.

But still, it was kinda fun.

He landed smoothly on the next building over and ducked behind a huge AC unit. The moment his boots touched concrete, he let out a breathless laugh and clutched his sides.

"Pffft—man... I should get an Oscar..."

Then—

JOLT.

He froze, eyes wide.

"W-, Wait..."

He mumbled, suddenly reaching between his thighs like his soul was trying to escape his body through his bladder.

"Oh no..."

The pressure hit him like a meteor.

He bit his lower lip. His legs started quivering.

"Oh no, oh no... that water I chugged to rinse my mouth after vomiting—it’s finally kicking back..."

He tried to take a step. Failed. Collapsed to one knee.

"Yup... not gonna make it down in time."

His fingers scrambled to the neck of his suit.

With a hissss, the vacuum seal detached.

A second later, the entire armor peeled off his body like skin off a fruit, collapsing at his feet.

Now, in just his blue sweatshirt and jeans, Scott looked around the rooftop in panic.

The corners? All wet.

Smelled like piss and dead rats.

He groaned.

"Animals live in this city..."

Better than Zoo York though.

"Fuck..."

Still, nature was calling—screaming, even.

So he ran to the least offensive corner, unbuckled—

And unleashed a golden tsunami of relief.

His cheeks flushed red. His back arched slightly.

"Ahhh~... yesss..."

He thrusted his pelvis just a little, moaning under his breath like he was in a spa commercial.

"God bless bladders..."

But on the balcony of the building opposite his, someone else was trying to enjoy their peace.

Irina had just finished her spicy Wagyu steak and was leaning against the gold-plated rail of Gold Cuts building.

Her long lashes fluttered. She sighed.

"I kinda wish I could see that Scott guy... even just once. I asked Sarah about maybe arranging a sponsored meet-up, but she said it’s unlikely. Vincent would lose it if he knew I even thought about texting him. Ugh... why’s he so obsessed with ’status’—?"

She pouted, resting her chin on her soft palms.

There were other things on her mind too.

Like the SMPE continuing tomorrow.

Which meant dealing with Brigid and those snotty prodigies from Skyfort Academy again.

"Hmph. I’m too mature for them anyway..."

Drip... Drip... Drop...

A drop landed on her forehead.

"... Huh?"

It was warm.

Drip... drip...

She blinked up at the sky.

"Wait. Why’s the rain... hot?"

And then—

SPLASH.

A whole stream of scalding "liquid" doused her face like someone emptied a teapot on her head.

Her mouth hung open in horror.

"WH-WHAT THE HELL—?!"

She clawed at her face, swatting away the hot stream as more splashed down on her—her hair, her shirt, her cleavage.

"WHO’S POURING THAT—?! WHAT THE FUCK!"

She tilted her head up.

There he was.

Pants still open.

Penis hanging out like a wobbly weiner.

Face still way too relieved.

Scott McQueen.

Their eyes met.

Her jaw dropped.

His did too.

"F-, FUCK!!"

Scott shouted and instantly dove behind the ledge like a soldier under fire.

Irina stood frozen. Eyes twitching. Fingers trembling.

She stared at her wet hands.

"N-no... no way... right? There’s no way this is—"

Then she remembered the zipper.

Her crush actually emptied his pee tank on her face.

Her body convulsed.

"KYAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HE POURED HIS HOT THING ALL OVER MEEEEEEE!!!"

Just then—

ZOOM.

Pulsar landed on the balcony like a thunderbolt.

"IRINA?! Are you okay—?!"

Irina stumbled back, eyes wide, voice cracking.

"N-NO, I’M NOT—!"

"What happened?!"

Irina opened her mouth—

Then saw him.

Peeking over the rooftop.

Eyes wide in fear.

She froze.

Her panic face instantly twisted into a fake, shaken smile.

"OH! Hahaha—no, it’s nothing! Just spilled something! Totally nothing serious, heh~!"

Pulsar frowned. "... Then why are you soaking wet?"

Irina hesitated.

Her cheeks twitched.

Then she started... licking her fingers.

She licked her lips too.

Even moaning as she drank every bit of the hot liquid like it was the tastiest thing in the world.

One by one.

Her eyes glowed with shame.

"Mmm~ ❤️ so good. It’s... Chardonnay. Yup! I brought a glass of expensive Chardonnay onto the balcony and totally spilled it on myself, haha!"

Pulsar blinked.

"... It looks like Chardonnay, but it kinda smells li—"

"IT IS!!!"

"...Okay! Sheesh."

Pulsar backed off and floated away, muttering—

"Don’t bite my head off..."

Irina stayed still, face twitching, soaked and traumatized.

One hand over her heart. The other still dripping.

"... Why does God hate me..."