Time: 7:00 PM. Solomon’s Penthouse.
My apartment used to be a sanctuary of minimalism. Gray walls, black leather furniture, white marble counters. Everything had its place. It was a temple of Order.
That temple had been sacked by barbarians.
I walked through the front door, loosening my tie, and stopped dead in my tracks.
"What... is... this?" I whispered, my left eye twitching uncontrollably.
The living room looked like a grenade had gone off in a high-end lingerie shop. Black tactical gear was strewn everywhere. But one item caught my eye immediately.
Hanging from my $2,000 crystal chandelier was a black corset. But it wasn't just any corset. As it swayed gently in the AC current, the light caught the texture of the fabric. It was a mix of delicate French lace and heavy-duty woven Kevlar. The ribbons were made of high-tensile paracord. It was a perfect visual metaphor for my new roommates: A seductive nightmare wrapped in bulletproof armor.
Raphaela was lying on my imported Italian sofa, upside down. Her muddy iron-soled boots were resting directly on the pristine white wall, leaving long black streaks. She was watching cartoons at maximum volume, laughing maniacally while shoving potato chips into her mouth. Crumbs rained down like dandruff.
Luciela was sitting at my dining table. She had dismantled her twin pistols and a fragmentation grenade. The grenade pin was sitting dangerously close to the salt shaker.
"Welcome home, Master," Luciela said without looking up, wiping gun oil onto one of my linen napkins.
"My napkins..." I groaned, dropping my briefcase. "Those are Egyptian cotton."
Scene 2: The Hygiene War
I walked into the bathroom to wash my face and calm my rising blood pressure.
I froze. The toilet lid was up. The water was... yellow. A wet towel was crumpled on the floor like a dead animal. Water was dripping onto the oak floorboards.
I marched out. "Review time!" I clapped my hands. "Kitchen! Now!"
The Twins gathered. Raphaela looked annoyed (she paused her cartoon). Luciela looked blank.
"Why," I pointed at the bathroom, "is the toilet not flushed? And why is the floor flooded?"
"Flushing is loud," Raphaela shrugged, popping a chip into her mouth. "In the jungle, noise equals death. If you flush, the enemy hears you. We are practicing stealth."
"And the hair dryer?" I asked. "Your hair is dripping wet."
"White noise," Luciela stated. "A hair dryer operates at 80 decibels. It blinds our auditory senses for 5 minutes. If an assassin breaches the window while I am drying my hair, I cannot protect you."
I stared at them. I took a deep breath.
"Listen to me," I said, pointing at the window. "We are on the 30th floor of a high-security penthouse. There are no enemies in the vents. There are no jaguars in the toilet."
"Flush the damn toilet. Dry your hair. Or I will deduct the cost of water damage from your bonus."
Raphaela pouted. "You're no fun, Boss."
Scene 3: The Sleep Paralysis Demon
Time: 3:00 AM.
I was exhausted. The stress of the $1.5 million deficit was weighing on me. I finally drifted into a deep sleep.
Suddenly, my survival instinct screamed. I woke up with a gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room was pitch black.
I felt a presence. I turned my head to the left.
Luciela was there. She was standing right next to my pillow. Her face was ten centimeters from mine. Her black hair hung down like a curtain around us.
Her eyes were wide open, glowing faintly in the dark. But there was no emotion in them. No warmth, no malice. It was the look of a biological CCTV camera. She wasn't looking at me; she was scanning my vitals, processing my heart rate, and monitoring the airflow in the room. It was the most terrifyingly objective stare I had ever seen.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Next to her, hidden in the shadows, I heard a whisper.
"He sleeps like a log, Sister," Raphaela's voice hissed. "Vulnerable. Soft."
"He pays on time," Luciela whispered back, her eyes never leaving my face. "We keep the asset safe. That is the contract."
"I like this nest," Raphaela giggled softly. "It smells expensive."
Then, a rustle. I looked up. Raphaela was perched on top of my wardrobe, squatting like a gargoyle or Spiderman, holding her Karambit.
"AHHH!" I scrambled back, tangling myself in the sheets and falling off the bed with a heavy THUD.
"Sector clear," Luciela whispered, not moving an inch. "Heart rate: elevated. Respiration: rapid. Are you having a nightmare, Master?"
"You ARE the nightmare!" I yelled, untangling myself from the duvet. "Get out! Or at least stand two meters away! I need REM sleep to function!"
Scene 4: The Misunderstanding
Time: 8:00 AM. The Next Morning.
I had left early to get coffee and... run an errand. The Twins were still asleep (they had finally crashed after their 'night watch').
Daniel arrived at the penthouse. He had the updated Profit & Loss statement I asked for. He punched in the code and entered.
He stopped. His jaw dropped.
The scene before him was suggestive, to say the least.
- A pair of black lace panties on the floor.
- A leather harness on the chair.
- A grenade on the table.
- The door to my bedroom was ajar. Inside, he could see a lump under the covers (Raphaela had crawled into my bed because the couch was 'too soft').
"Oh... my... God," Daniel whispered, turning red.
He looked at the panties. He looked at the bedroom. "Solomon... and both of them? At the same time?"
His mind raced. "He looks like an accountant... but he's a savage. He’s auditing their bodies and his balance sheet at the same time!"
Daniel dropped the file on the table, covered his eyes, and ran out. "Too much information! Too much!"
Scene 5: The Rumor Mill
Time: 9:00 AM. The Exchange.
Daniel burst into the back office, hyperventilating. Benny, Niko, Gara, Cara, and Moon were there.
"You won't believe it," Daniel gasped. "I went to the Penthouse."
"And?" Niko asked, cleaning his nails.
"Underwear," Daniel whispered, eyes wide. "Everywhere. Black lace. Leather straps. And they are sleeping in his bed! Solomon... he's doing it. He's handling both of the Twins."
The room went silent.
Niko whistled. "Respect. I can't even look Luciela in the eye without shivering. The Boss is engaging in close-quarters combat with them? Brave man."
Benny scratched his head, looking confused. "Fighting?" Benny asked innocently. "Why are they fighting in bed? Is it wrestling? Like WWE? I hope they don't break the furniture. The Boss has a bad back."
Moon was sitting in the corner. She didn't gasp. She didn't scream. She simply brought a perfectly manicured fingernail to her mouth and tapped it against her teeth. Click. Click. Click. "Ha... haha. Interesting," she laughed, but the sound was brittle. Internal Monologue (Moon): "Why does this feel... annoying? It’s not jealousy. I don't get jealous. But the idea of him tangled up with those two soulless dolls... it makes my skin crawl. It’s weirdly uncomfortable. Like someone touching my favorite toy."
Cara slumped against the wall, fanning herself with a file. Her face was flushed, but she channeled her anger into bureaucracy. "Unprofessional," she muttered, her voice shaking. "Highly unethical! Fraternizing with subordinates violates Section 4, Paragraph 2 of the company policy! It's a misuse of company assets! I need to write a citation. I need... I need a drink."
Scene 6: The 5S Punchline
The back door opened.
I walked in. I looked like a zombie. Dark circles under my eyes, hair slightly messy, suit rumpled from falling off the bed.
But as I stepped into the room, something shifted. Usually, the Twins' presence made the room smell of copper and cold air. But today, a new scent overpowered the killing intent.
Sugar. Warm, glazed, vanilla sugar.
Moon sniffed the air. Her eyes widened. The sweet scent clashed violently with the "Harem King" image Daniel had just painted.
I walked to the table and slammed down a pink box. "Dunkin' Donuts".
"Donuts," I croaked, my voice hoarse from yelling about toilet water. "Glazed and Chocolate Frosted. I bought them for... the guests."
"The guests?" Daniel squeaked.
"The Twins," I sighed, taking off my glasses to rub my eyes. "They are awake now. They need sugar. High metabolic rate."
I looked at the team. I looked deadly serious.
"Listen to me," I said, leaning on the table. "Living with them... it is exhausting. It requires constant supervision. It is messy. It is loud."
I looked at Daniel.
"Tonight," I said grimly. "I am going to teach them 5S."
Daniel and Niko exchanged a look. Daniel's thought: "5S? Is that a position?" Niko's thought: "5... Sex... something?"
"Sort. Set in order. Shine. Standardize. Sustain," I recited the Japanese management method, my face stone-cold. "I will not rest until I drill it into them. I will make them sweat until they understand the organization."
"You're going to... drill it into them," Daniel whispered, turning pale. "And make them sweat."
"Until they beg for mercy," I nodded, oblivious to the double entendre, grabbing a donut for myself. "Now, get back to work."
I walked toward my office, eating the donut, completely unaware that I had just cemented my reputation as the "Harem King of The Bronx."
Behind me, Benny blinked. "See?" Benny whispered. "I told you. Wrestling."
End of Chapter 30.
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