Apocalypse Architect: A Tower Defense LitRPG

Chapter 90: A Reluctant Dinner Date

Jax sat captive in the makeup chair, subjected to the ruthless ministrations of the stylist. When he was finally allowed to stand, he checked his reflection. The scruffy survivor look was gone, replaced by a sharp, clean-cut image that screamed “high society.”

He ran a hand through his styled hair, turning his head slightly. “Damn. I really am that handsome.”

He shot his reflection a finger gun—pure narcissism, maybe, but he pulled it off—and strode out of the dressing room.

Hazel was waiting for him.

She had shed her auctioneer’s uniform for a floor-length evening gown that shimmered under the lights. It hugged her frame in ways that defied physics, revealing curves Jax hadn’t even suspected existed beneath her professional attire.

Jax’s internal calculator clicked. Solid 8 before. Now? That’s a 9. Maybe a 9.5.

“Not bad,” Jax muttered, his eyes doing a quick, appreciative sweep. “Really not bad.”

Hazel caught him staring. Her expression instantly hardened into her signature icy glare.

“What are you ogling? Keep your eyes in your head and get moving.”

Jax blinked, snapping out of his appraisal. “Get moving where? What exactly am I supposed to be doing?”

Hazel sighed, a look of profound disappointment crossing her face. “Useless. I should have left you in the elevator.”

She shoved a clipboard into his chest. “Here. This is the manifest for tonight’s auction. Your job is to go backstage, verify that every item on this list is present and accounted for, and check them off. Once verified, coordinate with the porters to move them to the staging area. Can you handle that, or do I need to draw you a diagram?”

Jax nodded, glancing around until he spotted a heavy security door labeled [Backstage Logistics – Authorized Personnel Only].

“Got it. Do I need to come on stage with you later?”

“For what? To stand there and look pretty?” Hazel popped a pecan into her mouth, chewing aggressively. “No one paid to see you. Just handle the inventory.”

Jax shook his head and headed for the secure area.

The backstage vault was a fortress. More than a dozen armed guards patrolled the room, their eyes scanning constantly.

One of them moved to intercept Jax, hand resting on his sidearm, but relaxed slightly when Jax flashed the assistant badge Hazel had given him.

“The lots are arranged by number,” the guard grunted, pointing to rows of reinforced crates. “Check the tags. And listen closely: look, but don’t touch. These items are worth more than your life. You break it, you don’t just buy it—you die for it.”

Jax smiled tightly. “Understood.”

He moved down the line, clipboard in hand. Despite his nonchalance, he was curious. This was the top-tier auction of the Elysium Lounge, attended by the heavy hitters of Redrock Bastion and even mysterious VIPs from the Inner City.

He stopped at the first crate. It was small, about half a meter wide, but when he tested the weight, it felt anchored to the floor.

“Hey!” The guard barked. “I said hands off!”

Jax raised his hands in surrender. “Just checking the seal.”

He glanced at the manifest. Tier 3 Defense Tower Core Components. Rare Alloys.

Valuable, sure, but useless to him right now. He worked his way down the line, ticking off boxes.

When he reached the last page, he frowned.

Item 45: Experimental Prototype [CLASSIFIED]

He scanned the room. Every crate was accounted for, but there was no Item 45.

“Hey, Captain,” Jax called out to the lead guard. “Where are the experimental products?”

The captain didn’t even look at him. “Not your concern. They haven’t been delivered yet. Special transport. We have our own specialists to verify those when they arrive. Just sign off on the rest and get lost.”

He snatched the clipboard from Jax, scrawled a signature, and turned his back.

“Friendly bunch,” Jax muttered. “Arrogant pricks.”

He suppressed the urge to cause a scene—he was undercover, after all—and headed back to the green room.

Hazel was sitting at her vanity, demolishing a bag of pine nuts.

“Done?” she asked, not looking up.

“Done,” Jax said, collapsing onto a sofa. “Guard captain said the experimental stuff is coming in separate. Didn’t let me check it.”

“Fine,” Hazel said, dusting crumbs off her hands. “That’s standard for the high-security lots. We have ten minutes to curtain. Just stay out of the way until I signal for the next lot.”

Jax leaned back, closing his eyes. He was bored, and he still hadn’t found Elena.

The door opened, and a man walked in. He was slick—hair gelled within an inch of its life, suit tailored to perfection, smelling of expensive cologne. The male host for the evening.

He beamed at Hazel, ignoring Jax completely.

“Hazel, darling! Are you ready to dazzle them?”

Hazel didn’t even pause her snacking. She gave a microscopic nod.

The host’s smile faltered but didn’t break. “So, I was thinking… after the auction wraps up, maybe we could grab a late dinner? There’s a private lounge on the—”

“Not interested,” Hazel cut him off. “And I certainly don’t want to go with you.”

The rejection was brutal in its directness. The host stood there, mouth slightly open.

Hazel stood up, wiping her hands on a napkin. Her eyes darted to Jax, lounging on the sofa, and a mischievous glint sparked in them. She walked over to him.

“Hey,” she said, kicking his foot lightly. “You’re taking me to dinner tonight.”

Jax cracked one eye open. “Excuse me? You’re treating?”

“What? You think you’re too good to eat with me?” Hazel’s voice rose, feigning offense. “I am giving you the privilege of my company. You should be grateful.”

Jax thought about it for a second. “Sorry. Busy tonight.”

The male host let out a breath he’d been holding, looking relieved, though still annoyed at Jax’s existence.

“Hazel,” the host sneered, stepping forward. “Who is this… person? Since when do you need a lowly assistant?”

Hazel whirled on him. “None of your business.”

She turned back to Jax, leaned down, and pinched his shoulder hard. Through gritted teeth, she whispered, “You are coming. If you refuse, I’ll scream that there’s an intruder and blow your cover right now.”

Jax winced. “You play dirty.”

“I play to win. Yes or no?”

“Fine,” Jax sighed. “I’ll go. Reluctantly.”

The male host looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“You?” he spat, pointing a trembling finger at Jax. “What are you? You’re just a servant! What gives you the right to dine with Hazel?”

Jax stood up, towering over the man. He dusted off his lapel calmly.

“And what are you?” Jax asked, his voice bored. “Barking like a stray dog. Are you a ‘special’ case?”

The host blinked, confused. “‘Special’? What do you mean?”

Jax rolled his eyes. “If you have to ask, you definitely are. Go figure it out.”

He turned his back on the fuming host and looked at Hazel.

“I agreed to dinner,” Jax said quietly. “But you owe me. The deal stands.”

Hazel smirked, victorious. “Don’t worry. If she’s in the Elysium Lounge, I’ll find her.”

“Good. Then it’s a date.”