Marvel: All My Incarnations Are S-Class Villainesses

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: The Beautiful and Kind-Hearted Sumire

In the center of the living room, Kumashi’s massive body stood like a silent mountain of flesh.

In its left claw, it was dangling the scrawny man who had picked the lock as if he were a little chick.

The man had long since fainted, his limbs hanging limply.

With Kumashi’s clumsy movements, he swung back and forth like a broken pendulum.

In its right claw, it was still choking the lackey who had held the wooden club.

This guy’s eyes were rolling back, half his tongue was sticking out, and his face had turned purple.

It looked like he was taking more breaths out than in; he could go see God at any moment.

And on Kumashi’s broad shoulders, it was also carrying the fat guy who had been drooling over the underwear earlier.

His face was swollen like a pig’s head fresh out of the steamer, and he lay draped there, his life or death unknown.

”A chicken in the left hand, a duck in the right, and on the back there’s a... uh, fat baby?”

A line of lyrics inexplicably popped into Perona’s head.

Looking at these three unlucky bastards whose faces were black and blue as if they’d been run over repeatedly by a fully loaded dump truck, and then looking at Kumashi’s innocent, almost credit-seeking expression.

Perona was silent for two seconds, then couldn’t help but burst out laughing with a ”pfft.”

”Kumashi, good job~”

...A few minutes later, in a corner of the living room.

Jason was thrown on the floor, tied up hand and foot, still unconscious.

A fair, slender little hand reached out and, with a bit of hesitation, slapped his face.

Slap.

The sound was crisp, but the strength behind it was touching; rather than a slap, it was more like helping him shoo away a mosquito.

Jason was dead to the world and didn’t move an inch.

The little hand stiffened, then slapped him again with more force.

Jason still didn’t wake up.

Just as the little hand was about to slap him a third time, a long leg suddenly whipped out with a sharp whistling sound, and a small black leather shoe kicked Jason directly in the face!

Bang!

”Aow——!!!”

Jason arched his entire body like a cooked shrimp and let out a shrill scream, nosebleed and tears instantly gushing out.

He struggled to open his eyes.

Through his blurred vision, he saw Sumire squatting in front of him in terror, while behind her stood two unfamiliar young girls, one on the left and one on the right.

Sumire sheepishly retracted her hand, stood up, and looked down at Jason from a height: ”Ahem... I think I remember you... You’re that... Jason? What are you doing looking for me with so many people in the middle of the night?”

Before Jason could recover from the intense pain to respond.

Sumire suddenly seemed to remember something, striking her right fist into her left palm in a moment of realization:

”Oh! Right! I remember now! I still owe your boss a hundred thousand dollars, don’t I?”

Hearing Sumire take the initiative to mention the debt, Jason subconsciously nodded despite his current predicament.

He opened his mouth, habitually about to say, ”Actually, with interest, it’s several hundred thousand,” when his peripheral vision suddenly caught sight of that terrifying stuffed bear in the corner—the one that had just played with his lackeys like toys—standing respectfully behind Sumire.

Those bloodshot, bulging eyes were staring intently at him.

”Gulp.”

Jason swallowed hard, so frightened that he immediately shut his mouth, forcing the word ”interest” back down his throat and not mentioning it at all.

Sumire scratched her head, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Lately, she had been so busy extorting Iron Man, fighting the Hulk, and hiding from S.H.I.E.L.D. that she had indeed forgotten about the money she owed this gang.

However, she suddenly seemed to recall something and asked:

”Owing money is one thing... what are you doing here? And you didn’t knock? How did you get in?”

Cold sweat instantly broke out on Jason’s back, soaking his floral shirt.

”That... Su... Sister Su, we came... came to catch up with you!”

Jason squeezed out a smile that looked worse than crying, ”I didn’t expect the... the door wasn’t locked, so we... hahaha...”

A series of dry laughs followed.

Sumire laughed along with him: ”Hahaha, catching up, huh...”

The next second, her expression shifted abruptly, the smile vanishing as her face became terrifyingly grim:

”You bastard, do you take me for a fool?!”

Jason shuddered all over, looking despairingly toward his lackeys.

He found that they were also tied up like rice dumplings just like him.

The unlucky guy with the wooden club was down and out with a gray face, and the other two—one fat and one thin—were still unconscious, completely unreliable.

On the other side, Sumire and the others had already begun discussing what to do with them.

Sumire frowned as she reminisced.

Actually, before awakening the villainess simulation game, in order to survive in this cutthroat New York, she really had run errands for Kingpin’s gang a few times.

Back then, relying on her pretty face and student-like appearance to avoid raising Police suspicion, she often helped transport firearms or cash.

Except for that one time... she remembered it was to deliver goods to an abandoned cannery on the edge of Queens.

As it happened, the gang members responsible for the hand-off had drunk too much.

Seeing her alone, their talk turned filthy, and a few wandering hands even reached out toward her.

At that moment, Sumire only felt a surge of nausea and anger, and her heart raced—that was her only impression.

Everything after that... was a complete blackout.

It was like a segment had been cut from an old film reel, and the image just jumped.

When she came to her senses again, she was standing at the factory’s main gate, still holding that empty backpack.

Strangely, the factory that had been noisy and filled with heavy metal music and men’s taunting laughter had become deathly silent.

Terrifyingly quiet.

Only the sound of water dripping onto rusted iron plates remained.

”Drip, drip.”

It echoed in the empty workshop, sounding exceptionally piercing.

She didn’t think much of it at the time; she just felt dizzy and lightheaded, assuming her hypoglycemia had caused her to faint, so she hurried away while no one was around.

Afterward, Sumire even suspected she might have suffered some terrible fate, but after checking herself at home, she found no trace of having been touched by anyone.

On the contrary, from then on, she never saw those men who harassed her again, and even that branch of the gang inexplicably vanished.

A few days later, Kingpin, the underground emperor of New York, actually sent someone to personally invite her to the top floor of the Fisk Tower.

That was the first time she had met this heavyweight villain of the Marvel Universe.

That man, who was like a mountain of flesh, looked at her with a very complex gaze.

Sumire couldn’t quite read it.

Then Kingpin suddenly offered an unimaginably high price, even promising to let her enter the inner circle directly.

At the time, Sumire righteously—actually, because she was scared to death—refused.

She had absolutely no interest in the drugs, gambling, and prostitution involved in the inner circle; she just wanted to be a law-abiding citizen most of the time.

Yes, come to think of it, Sumire had always felt she was a fundamentally good person.

How did she suddenly awaken this improper Villainess System?

When it came to being beautiful and kind-hearted, who in all of New York could compare to her, Sumire?

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