SWNOVELXO Chapter 261: Just As Expected
Sure enough, a group came storming up to Ethan's front gate.
BANG—
The courtyard gate flew open with a violent kick.
"Who the hell started a fire in the Silverwood estate?! You outta your mind?!"
With a loud crack, the wooden door split clean in half.
Ethan's expression darkened. Sure, maybe we weren't totally in the right here—but that tone? What, was this guy planning to kill us or something?
But before he could even finish his sentence, his face twisted like he'd just sucked on a lemon. Then, he forced a smile so painfully fake, it almost hurt to look at.
"Uh… M-Mr. Markham? It's you?! Take your time—by all means, carry on!"
He spun around and bolted.
Behind him, one of the others muttered, "Lars, what the hell? If you don't want to lead the team, just hand it over—I'll take it!
Screw Markham or whoever—today, I'm calling myself his grandpa!"
The rest of them, watching Lars's pathetic retreat, exchanged looks of open contempt.
Lars paused mid-step and turned back to flash a big thumbs-up.
"Be my guest! I'll head back to the Disciplinary Wing to collect my penalty slip."
Their entire exchange drifted into the courtyard, every word clear as day.
Ethan's worldview took yet another hard hit.
The others just stood there, gaping at Markham.
Except for Bobby and Rook. They didn't look surprised at all. If anything, they seemed… mildly concerned?
"Lars—"
Just as the guy was about to make his escape, Markham's voice cut through the air like a thunderclap.
Lars froze. Shivered. Then slowly turned around.
"M-Mommy… uh, M-Mr. Markham…"
PFFT— Evelyn, who'd been standing by the grill watching the whole scene unfold, happened to be sipping water.
At that exact moment, she spat it out.
Markham, who'd just turned slightly toward the gate to glare, took the full blast to the side of his face.
And she wasn't the only one who sprayed.
Nor was Markham the only target.
Rook got it the worst. He was laughing so hard his abs nearly gave out. Clutching his stomach, he leaned against the table, half-crying, half-dying.
"Oh my god—"
"This is killing me—!"
"Markham, since when did you have a son?"
"And when exactly did you visit Thailand, huh? That's news to me!"
Bobby was cackling beside him, practically choking. He added,
"Don't joke! Even if you did go to Thailand, they'd have cut it off!"
"Even if you slapped on some artificial baby-maker, it still wouldn't work!"
He didn't even get to finish before—
"…Why not?" a voice cut in.
The whole yard fell silent.
Because the one who asked… was the only girl present.
Evelyn blinked, eyes wide with curiosity, face dead serious like she was asking a professor about cell mitosis.
"…Uh…" Bobby's face turned beet red. He stammered.
"B-because male chromosomes are 46XY… and females have 46XX. Even with surgery, you can't change the core!"
"A-and current tech can't grow real reproductive organs from scratch. Live transplants are illegal!"
He actually started explaining. Like, seriously.
Evelyn nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm… I'll fix that someday. One day, you guys are gonna be the ones giving birth."
She grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds and strolled off to snack in peace.
Every man in the yard shuddered involuntarily.
Bobby and Rook just stared after her, dumbfounded.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
They were practically thinking the same thing.
"My sister's a med student," Ryan offered, seeing the blank looks on their faces.
"Ohhh…"
Yeah—better make damn sure her dream never comes true.
That thought hit both of them at the same time.
Back in the yard, Lars stood frozen, drenched in sweat. He had no clue what Markham wanted now.
And he'd just watched Markham take a faceful of water—thanks to his own stupid mouth.
If Markham decided to take that rage out on him…
Just as panic hit its peak, Markham calmly wiped his face with a sleeve.
"I'm outta greens. Go grab me something grillable—veggies, whatever."
Lars blinked. Then broke into the fakest, most relieved grin imaginable.
"On it, sir! Right away!"
He vanished so fast, he practically left a dust trail behind him.
As he ran, Lars let out a long, shaky sigh. Thank God that didn't go south…
If this had ended like last time…
That night, he'd been yanked clean out of the Hidden Territory in his sleep—no noise, no struggle, no clue how they even got in.
After the beating of a lifetime, he'd been stripped, tied up, and strung like laundry from a streetlight in the real world.
And yeah—embarrassing, but survivable.
What really haunted him was what came next.
Those damn women…
They'd slathered him in honey.
Then dumped a pile of dead bees on top, just for good measure.
At least—thank whatever gods existed—they'd had some shred of mercy.
That particular region of his anatomy had been neatly wrapped in clingfilm.
Without that… well, Lars might've had to start planning a medical trip to Bangkok.
Behind him, the rest of the enforcement squad watched his retreat with thinly veiled contempt.
Well—aside from a few of his closer buddies. After exchanging quick glances, they dropped out of formation and jogged after him.
The one who'd been eyeing Lars's spot the whole time? That was his second-in-command—Elias.
Elias had been gunning for the captain role for months. And now? Lars had just chickened out in front of outsiders.
Perfect.
All Elias had to do was step up, lay down the law, report the win, and Lars would look like a joke. Promotion, locked in.
With that smug thought, Elias marched into the courtyard.
"All of you—"
He didn't finish.
Markham flicked his wrist and tossed something small—a shiny five-pointed star.
The rest of the group stood up, eyes sharpening.
A fight was about to kick off. And then—
SMACK!
A sharp, echoing slap cracked through the air. Everyone blinked, stunned.
Had they imagined that?
But no—there stood Elias, his cheek already ballooning, dazed and silent.
"Whuuuh?" he slurred. He'd tried to say "Who…"
But with his face swelling like a grapefruit, it came out a mess.
He looked around wildly—everyone was frozen.
He glanced at the teammates next to him. They all looked equally stunned—and slowly shook their heads.
"Whuh saaa… yo jushdtry—uh huhsh mee agaiiihh…"
(Who… whoever you are… try that crap again…) he tried to say.
But judging by the squinty eyes and tongue-bite, he'd started speaking right as the slap landed.
SMACK!
Another slap—faster, harder, sharper.
Everyone's eyes locked forward. Still no sign of who'd done it. No blur. No shadow. Nothing.
But one thing was now crystal clear:
Someone terrifying was right there among them.