Matched To Nine Arrogant Billionaire Mates

Chapter 9

Word Count: 722 | Released on: 25/06/2026

spy golden-brown. The rich, nutty aroma of browned butter and thyme fille

from the heat, her personal ter

quickly wiped her hands on a tow

registered number. She hesitated for a se

ed up on the screen, the font s

ra? Please, you

ning. She typed back a cool, simple

ograph. The picture showed a man in a tattered jacket, posed artfully ag

artners. I... I'm at the end of my rope. I'm buried in gambling

ighting too perfect. The signs of digital manipulation were

ket was a limited-edition piece from Vancleef, a vintage luxury br

s, who still had time to find hi

artist with the acting skills of a block of wood. The last dregs of her disappoin

rrible imposition, but could you possibly lend me some cre

typing her reply. "Oh? Is that so? You so

es, yes! I'm desperate! You're my betr

. "But I'm poor, too. I'm

response. Finally, a new message came through. "But you're a Level 4! Y

ger. He didn't just want to scam her out of money. He

one playi

st enough to buy myself a piece of meat. As for your debts, I suggest you

ded the screen. "Don't be like

sent back. "If you continue to harass me, I will r

om the pan and placed it on a plate. It

e-up that highlighted the crispy

the photo

ou decide to play the pauper, try wearing actual rags. That ant

ately blocked the number

erminal. The image of the impossibly delicious-looking fish seemed to mock him, its aroma pr

etely, utter

Chapter End

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Matched To Nine Arrogant Billionaire Mates

Xin Miaomiao Fantasy

“As a lowly Terran refugee in a brutal world, I risked my life to hunt a Level 4 beast just to qualify for the Imperium's advanced partner matching. I thought it was my ticket to a better life, but the system unexpectedly assigned me nine elite partners, and it quickly turned into a nightmare. Because of my refugee status, these high-level males despised me before we even met. The city's wealthiest billionaire called me from a fake account, pretending to be a starving, debt-ridden gambler just to scare me into canceling the match. An ancient aristocrat planned to lock me in his remote outer bailey, intending to use me as a disposable medical tool. And the military commander, Jaxon Stryker-the very man whose life I had just saved in the deadly Umbral Forest-sent his assistant to my cramped apartment. "Commander Stryker is prepared to offer you a substantial sum to terminate the contract." I looked at the astronomical number glowing on the credit chip. In their eyes, I was just a cheap burden, a gold-digging parasite that could be paid to go away. They had no idea that I had single-handedly slaughtered a giant pythonoid, nor did they know I was the fierce savior Jaxon was currently tearing the city apart to find. A cold smile spread across my face. "Tell your Commander that if he wants to terminate the contract, he can come tell me himself." I slammed the door in the assistant's face. Since they wanted to play games, I would show these arrogant elites exactly what this Terran refugee was made of.”