The Gene of the Ancients (Rogue Merchant Book #2): LitRPG Series by Roman Prokofiev (top books to read TXT) 📕

“It’s fine, Mom.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full! How’s your work, Oleg?”

“It’s the same, I have a small business on the Net.”

“The Net!” Victor chuckled derisively. “What a load of nonsense!”

“Come on, honey. Everybody’s doing it these days.”

“Everybody? Don’t speak for everyone, woman!” Victor barked, expressing his disapproval. Then he raised a cognac bottle (the one given to me by Sphere’s admins), but I refused a shot. After all, I still had to drive Alena home.

“Where are you going on vacation this year? Don’t you usually go in May or June?” Alena’s mother, Mila, asked. As I looked at my bleeding-heart mother-in-law, I could easily see my wife in her place. That’s how she would look in her sixties, I thought.

A slight shadow came over Alena’s face. Those words had clearly struck a chord.

“We thought about going on a cruise, Northern Union to New London, but it didn’t work out, Oleg has work problems...”

Mila flung her hands up and broke out in a smile.

“Oh, that’s great! Maybe you could come with us? Your dad’s gotten four tickets to the Star for an entire week! But the flight’s the day after tomorrow, we couldn’t pick the date...”

“The Star? I wanna go so much!” Alena clapped her hands, and her eyes lit up.

“Oleg, sweetie, we’ll go, right?”

The Star was a low-orbit space hotel, not the trendy Nova Cosmo, a plainer one, but still pretty great. Artificial gravity, suites with a scenic view of the Earth equipped with powerful telescopes, and a full range of space tourism recreations: swimming in a floating water balloon, spacewalks, zero-gravity sports. Everyone who had ever visited raved about it.

I would have loved to go there as well, even accompanied by my in-laws, but now was not the time for that. Sphere and its problems became an essential part of my life. I still had to give my answer to the Magister, finish my business with the marketing team, pass the exam into the Watchers, and finally start earning money, and all of those matters couldn’t wait. I was in no position to drop everything and leave for a week; it would disrupt all of my plans and throw me off track.

Even that night, when Alena tried her damnedest, even using her feminine wiles, but I didn’t break. Still, we had to compromise, sending her with her parents. That outcome seemed to satisfy everyone: she would get to visit a space hotel, getting bragging points with her girlfriends, and I wouldn’t have to worry about my wife vacationing all alone. I did want to go myself, of course, as swimming in zero gravity was my long-held dream, but that had to wait.

The next day, during a barbecue, they were cheerfully discussing plans. The fourth attendee, to his chagrin, would have to be Ruslan, Alena’s youngest brother. The boy was anticipating a week-long freedom from his parents, but I had to screw him over. Now, he was scowling at me.

The flight would happen the next day.

* * *

After packing up and saying our goodbyes, I drove Alena and her family to the airport. The New Tokyo flight was departing at 7 PM. I put them on the plane and watched the silvery airliner disappear in the darkening sky. Now, I could go home — to Sphere.

When I got home, it was already dark. Right at the turn to our apartment building, a muddy black sedan cut me off, barreling from the roadside. I almost crashed into its rear, then swore, pressing the car horn a couple of times. Way too many road hogs these days!

The black sedan — now I could see that it was a Hurricane — drove ahead for some time, then stopped right in the archway leading into my courtyard, the hazard lights turned on. From behind, I got blocked by another car, its headlights reflected in my rearview mirror.

“The world has really gone to hell in a handbasket!” I cursed, then honked a few more times, but the Hurricane didn’t seem to react, still flashing its hazard lights. Was it broken? I doubted it.

I was sick and tired of idiots like that parking anywhere they wanted. Why couldn’t they find a proper spot and give way to others? After cursing one more time, I got out of the car to tell that asshole to clear the road in simple terms.

The window of the Hurricane came down, releasing a cloud of cigarette smoke. Inside, I saw a round face in a baseball cap and a week’s worth of stubble. There was one more guy next to him, blond and lanky. He was shifting his gaze from me to the screen of his wrist communicator.

Not mincing any words, I asked them to clear the way.

The bearded guy smirked, then cast a glance at his companion. The second dude nodded, looking at the green signal light of his comm.

“It’s him. Definitely his voice,” he said.

I had a sinking feeling in my guts. Doors slammed behind me. I looked back: two guys came out from the other car, headed toward me. When I turned my head toward the Hurricane, someone punched me in the head. Almost blinded by pain, I was sent flying into a wall, crashing into it headfirst.

After that, it was a blur. For some reason, they didn’t hit me anymore. The men from the second car grabbed me, pinning my arms down, and when somebody pulled me by the scruff of my neck, I saw that round unshaven mug. The man was stroking his left fist with his right hand, squeezing a shiny knuckle duster. So that’s why that first punch almost knocked me out cold.

“Hello, Cat.” I saw his lips moving. “Don’t you recognize me? Goggy sent me! He did promise to visit you, didn’t he? Surely you remember that!”

“Well then, if