Chapter 372: Oren Ausburn! *R18*

"Bert, you really are farsighted." She looked at him with admiration.

"I was thinking about this from the perspective of an ordinary celebrity and his popularity. But Lord Lavatory isn’t just a celebrity. He’s a superhero. He wouldn’t want us to create superficial fame for him. He would want us to actually help people and save more lives."

Sam immediately stood up in excitement.

"Great! Then what should we call the club?"

"Since we’re doing justice in the name of Lord Lavatory, let’s call it the Bowels of Justice!"

"I like that idea, Ron," Sam said.

"I agree," Tom nodded.

"Hmm, it has a nice ring to it," Dermila mumbled softly.

Bert also smiled along with them, but his expression soon turned bitter.

"Everyone, don’t celebrate too early. There’s another problem we need to solve."

Everyone’s attention returned to him.

"Funds. We need a large amount of money to start this club."

Sam: "..."

Tom: "...Are our savings not enough?"

Ron: "...Should we take out a loan?"

The excitement in the room immediately faded. However, the dull atmosphere was swept away by Dermila’s next words.

"Leave the matter of funds to me."

"Really, Miss Dermila?"

"Trust me." She smiled reassuringly.

"Great! Miss Dermila, you’re the best!"

"Still calling me Miss Dermila?" She puffed out her cheeks slightly. "I’m also a member of the Bowels of Justice now, aren’t I?"

"Of course!"

The brothers immediately nodded.

Dermila showed a happy grin affected by the atmosphere.

’Brother... I might have finally found the place where I can truly belong.’

---

Noerdon Country

Deep within Noerdon Country stood an enormous Western-style castle estate.

The heavily fortified property was surrounded by layers of security. Armed guards continuously patrolled the perimeter, while snipers remained stationed at strategic positions, watching every approach to the estate. Any unidentified person who came too close without authorization would be treated as a threat.

The estate itself stood in the center of the largest lake in Noerdon Country, Lake Brittany.

Both the lake and the surrounding shoreline were heavily guarded and filled with hidden security measures and traps, making the place nearly impossible to approach unnoticed.

This was the main base of the Ausburn Family.

Although the family was often referred to as a mafia organization, almost no one with any real knowledge of the country considered them to be merely a mafia family.

Their influence extended far beyond the criminal underworld, reaching politicians, military officials, businessmen, and numerous major industries.

At this moment, inside the castle, a middle-aged butler walked elegantly through the corridor.

He eventually stopped before a large door at the end of the hallway and knocked twice.

*Knock* *Knock* He waited patiently.

"Come in," a muffled voice called out from within.

When Butler Sean stepped inside, he encountered an unfiltered, decadent scene. Oren Ausburn—the sharp-featured, golden-haired leader of the family—was completely naked, fully engaged on the sprawling bed with three equally bare women, indulging his desires without a shred of restraint.

The women were all prominent figures: a widely known star actress, a top magazine cover model, and Jane Ross, the renowned investigative journalist famous for exposing high-profile crimes. At the moment, Jane was completely exposed beneath Oren’s weight, her skin flushed red, her back arching off the mattress as she let out unrestrained, heavy moans while he drove deeply into her.

Noticing the butler, Oren didn’t pause his rhythmic thrusts. He looked up, slick with sweat, and grunted, "Wait a moment. I’ll be done shortly."

Hearing the voice and realizing another man was standing in the doorway, Jane gasped sharply as clarity broke through her ecstasy. "Ah!" she cried out, her eyes widening in shock. She scrambled awkwardly to yank a silk sheet over her bare breasts and hips in a frantic, futile attempt to cover herself.

"Don’t move. Let me finish," Oren growled, grabbing her hips to lock her in place. He accelerated his pace, driving into her with relentless intensity.

Jane’s feeble attempt at modesty instantly collapsed. The sight of the butler watching from the doorway only seemed to heighten her arousal; her toes curled, her thighs trembled around Oren’s waist, and her high-pitched, needy moans echoed loudly through the room, completely forgetting the onlooker. With a final, deep thrust from Oren, both of them shivered violently as a crashing climax swept through them.

Satisfied, Oren pulled back, leaving Jane panting heavily on the disheveled sheets. He stood up, casually draped a silk bathrobe over his bare shoulders, and stepped off the bed.

"Young Master, did the interview go smoothly?" Sean asked neutrally, his eyes fixed respectfully away from the bed.

"It’s finished," Oren replied. "Let them rest. When they wake up, see that they are taken care of." He paused, reaching down to deliver a hard, resounding slap to Jane’s exposed, milky rear. He watched with a smirk as the soft flesh trembled and jiggled from the impact, eliciting one last breathy whimper from her. "Send the other two back. Bring this journalist hottie to my private quarters later."

"Understood, Young Master."

Oren stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower. He emerged dressed in a tailored shirt and trousers, refined and composed.

Moving to the adjacent sitting room, Oren sat back on a leather sofa. "So, what brings you here during my break, Sean?"

"It concerns the Young Miss," Sean replied.

Oren immediately sat upright, his eyes brightening with interest hearing the news about his little sister. "Dermila? Has she had enough of playing around? Is she ready to return home?"

Sean shook his head gently. "I’m afraid not. The Young Miss has requested additional funds."

"Funds?" Oren frowned. "Didn’t I transfer her monthly allowance just recently?" The recurring 10 million allowance was intended to cover all her expenses comfortably for a month. Although not much, it should have been enough.

Sean hesitated, a look of difficulty crossing his face.

Oren’s gaze darkened. "What are you hiding, Sean?"

"Madam Kronia froze all of the Young Miss’s accounts."

"When?" Oren demanded, his tone turning dangerous.

"Last month." Bulter Sean answered.