Chapter 165: Jealousy and Mental Turmoil

Upon hearing Roan’s question, Norton introduced the agent beside him as Brendin, a former collegiate billiards player and the newest member of their investigative team. Due to his competence, he was highly regarded by Captain Dillon and was invited to this party as well.

“Hello, Brendin,” Roan said with a smile, extending his hand.

Shaking hands, Roan teased, “Did I dress wrong? Why have you been staring at me all this time?”

“Sorry about that,” Brendin lowered his head to apologize, casually picking up a glass of wine and explaining that he was simply a bit curious about Roan. He didn’t specify what exactly intrigued him, but then quickly averted his gaze and left.

A flicker of insight crossed Roan’s eyes as he resumed his conversation with Norton.

The party officially commenced, with guests mingling about. Augustus’s home wasn’t lavish, but the two-story house was well-equipped, even boasting a gym. Judging by Augustus’s large belly, the gym’s primary user was likely his daughter, Lula.

Though Lula’s demeanor seemed somewhat unruly, her figure revealed a disciplined fitness routine.

With many guests attending, the living room felt crowded, prompting several to retreat to the gym. Invited by Ryder, Roan and Norton joined them to try out the equipment.

Unexpectedly, Brendin appeared there too. He strolled over to the billiards table in the corner, traced the surface with his hand, then smiled at Roan.

“This table is very well-maintained. Want to have a game?”

“American pool?”

“Yes!”

Already good-looking, Brendin picked up a cue stick and struck a charming pose, instantly drawing the attention of several female guests.

Roan’s expression remained unchanged, but recalling Brendin’s earlier apology, he quietly understood the situation.

Clearly, Brendin intended to use him as a stepping stone to show off and boost his ego.

As for his motives… Roan glanced at Norton beside him, whose eyes were fixed sharply on Brendin.

If his guess was right, Norton or Dillon must have often mentioned Roan in front of Brendin.

Roan was correct.

Brendin harbored some jealousy toward Roan.

Since joining the Organized Crime Investigation Unit, every time Brendin made a mistake, Norton or Dillon would reprimand him.

If it had been mere criticism, Brendin wouldn’t have minded; he accepted responsibility for errors.

But after each rebuke, Norton or Dillon would bring up “Roan,” sighing and expressing regret.

No one likes being compared unfavorably by superiors or authority figures, so naturally, Brendin developed both envy and curiosity about Roan.

However, upon learning from Norton about the number of cases Roan had solved and the speed at which he did so, Brendin fell silent.

He simply couldn’t compare to Roan.

Having been accepted into the Organized Crime Investigation Unit and favored by Dillon, Brendin possessed a reasonably good handle on his emotions.

So, in subsequent work, he chose to set aside jealousy, focusing instead on steady self-improvement and minimizing mistakes.

Yet at this party, his deep-seated envy resurfaced:

“You’re good at solving cases, fine, but why are you so popular with the ladies?”

Aside from Lacey, Roan was the second most sought-after guest; many women flocked to his side.

In terms of investigative skill, Brendin estimated that even ten of himself couldn’t match Roan.

But billiards was a different matter—no one could beat him at that.

Brendin was eager to showcase his superior cue skills, crushing Roan and satiating his vanity, especially with many female onlookers present.

Staring at the table, Roan paused for a moment, then patted Norton on the shoulder and smiled, agreeing.

“Alright, but you need to explain the rules.”

Roan was not well-versed in American pool but was quite skilled in Chinese-style billiards.

After all, some wealthy patrons enjoyed high-stakes cue sports—recently involving a scandal with a celebrity hospitalized over a multimillion wager.

In his former life as an assassin, Roan had been carefully coached in the techniques of such games.

Once proficient, he mostly practiced using the cue and balls as tools for assassination skills.

Seeing Roan nod, Norton stepped over to Brendin and gave him a hard pat on the shoulder, grumbling:

“Roan doesn’t know American pool; go easy on him!”

“Of course,” Brendin smiled, noting more guests watching them.

He earnestly explained the rules, professionally racked the balls, then gracefully pointed at the table.

“You go first. If you make mistakes, I’ll guide you.”

“Okay.”

Roan grinned, handled the cue a few times, then struck with all his might, scattering the diamonds of balls across the table.

Clack—

After the balls tumbled, one remarkably rolled straight into a pocket.

“Not bad!”

“Roan, impressive!”

Norton, Ryder, and even Lacey, Mona, Lula, and Sirin who had just arrived, applauded Roan’s direct sink.

Brendin also smiled and clapped, attributing it to beginner’s luck.

Roan stood and asked:

“Can I hit the other numbered balls now?”

“Yes!”

Brendin nodded casually.

Glancing at the table, Roan bent over again, aiming for a blue ball.

Onlookers frowned; a red ball partially blocked its path, making it difficult to pocket.

“That ball’s blocked.”

“Yeah, looks like it’s Brendin’s turn.”

Roan waved them off and struck the cue ball hard.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

The cue ball hit the blue ball, which struck a red ball. The red ball bounced off the rail and hit the blue ball again, sending it into the pocket.

“...”

The crowd stood stunned.

Augustus was the first to react, laughing heartily and clutching his belly:

“Roan! Your luck is incredible!”

The others laughed along.

Only Brendin’s smile stiffened.

He sensed something was off.

Roan said nothing and continued.

Next target: the yellow ball.

Bang!

It sank.

Then the red ball.

Bang!

Also pocketed.

Roan struck the balls in sequence with force, each sinking directly into pockets, leaving only the nine-ball.

Clatter—

Witnessing this, everyone applauded and laughed again:

“Haha, Roan’s luck is unbelievable!”

“Awesome, Roan!”

“Incredible!”

“To pot balls like that!”

Several women cheered loudly:

“Go, Roan! Sink the last ball and beat Brendin!”

They already knew Brendin was a former billiards athlete.

Brendin, leaning on his cue, stood stiffly, doubting his own life choices.

Before he could recover, Roan sank the nine-ball.

Bang!

At the sound, Brendin, who had been a mere spectator, seemed dazed.

Everyone showered Roan with applause. Familiar faces like Ryder and Lacey approached, showering him with praise.

“Roan, you just cleared the table in one break!”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you play so well!”

“Maybe you should quit the FBI and turn pro!”

Amid the accolades, Roan remained modest, waving his hand and attributing it all to luck. Then he turned to Brendin, his face radiant with a sunny smile:

“So, Brendin, shall we continue?”

Brendin was speechless.

(End of chapter)