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Home / Urban / MY EX—GIRLFRIEND IS ACTUALLY A CULT LEADER / Chapter 18 The Battle of the Cults
Chapter 18 The Battle of the Cults
Author: Serene
last update2026-06-08 23:30:42
The teak massage table groaned under Reno’s weight as he scrambled beneath it, his face pressed against a floor that smelled faintly of expensive lavender wax and the impending collapse of his sanity. Above him, the high-end yoga studio had transformed into a war zone where the primary casualties were glass vases and the dignity of the Indonesian upper class. He could hear the sharp, rhythmic thwack of silk ribbons cutting through the air, followed by the metallic clink of throwing stars—gold-pl
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  • Chapter 35 Mindwashing the Nation

    The press conference was not scheduled, it was summoned. Reno had spent the last four hours in the digital trenches, gutting the metadata of Auditor Handoyo’s intercepted logs and reframing them as a manifesto of hate speech and harassment. Every major news network in Jakarta was currently broadcasting from the Bloom & Co. ballroom, a space filled with the artificial, honeyed scent of the Moonlight product line.Reno stood behind the velvet curtain, adjusting his cufflinks with the surgical precision of a butcher. Clara sat on a gold-backed chair nearby, her dress a shimmering, iridescent fabric that caught the strobe of the cameras. She was physically there, but her gaze was miles away, fixed on the patterns in the floor rug. The auditor’s public smear campaign had left her bruised, but Reno’s narrative had turned those bruises into war paint."Are you ready to speak, Clara?" Reno leaned down, his shadow draping over her like an omen. "Tell them exactly what t

  • Chapter 34 The Auditor's Intervention

    The lobby of the Bloom & Co. headquarters didn't just feel cold; it felt clinical, as if the very air was being filtered by the moral vacuum inside. Auditor Handoyo stood by the glass elevators, a man whose tailored suit couldn't hide the fact that he treated corruption like a terminal disease. Beside him, an assistant was frantically leafing through a stack of documents that Reno knew were empty shells, carefully crafted to mirror the complexities of an labyrinth.Reno walked toward them, his movements measured, projecting the exact amount of "burdened executive" charisma needed to soothe an angry watchdog. Clara trailed a few steps behind him, draped in a gown that looked like liquid shadow, her eyes wide and unnervingly still. She wasn't leading anymore. She was drifting."Mr. Handoyo," Reno said, his voice hitting a note of weary professionalism. "I apologize for the delay. Managing a transition like the Moonlight Line merger requires every second of our focus, and we weren't pre

  • Chapter 33 Moonlight Product Line : The Beginning of Unification

    The executive lounge on the 50th floor was sterile, an architectural manifestation of a nervous breakdown. On the center table sat the first physical mockup of "The Moonlight Line": an aesthetic marriage of Bloom & Co’s floral minimalism and the heavy, occult-leaning industrial design of The Midnight Orchid. It was sleek, overpriced, and deeply sinister.Clara paced the room like a caged animal. Her hair was pulled back so tightly her eyebrows seemed perpetually arched in alarm. Across from her, Reno leaned against a pillar, his thumbs hooking into his belt, watching her disintegrate. "The board loves it," Reno said, his voice a calm anchor in the room’s frantic humidity. "Tiffany’s agents love it. And the press? They’re eating up the story of two rival titans coming together to create the ‘essence of luxury.’ It’s a genius rebrand of your insanity."Clara stopped pacing and stared at the perfume bottle—the signature item of the line. The scent insi

  • Chapter 32 Two Queens, One Throne

    The boardroom of Bloom and Co smelled of ozone and expensive espresso. Tiffany sat at the head of the polished obsidian table, her heels resting audaciously on the edge of the conference board. Clara stood by the window, her back turned to the room, a glass of water gripped so tightly her knuckles were blanched bone-white.Reno stood between them, the pivot point upon which the company’s future precariously balanced. He watched the reflection of the room in the dark glass; Tiffany looked like a triumphant usurper, and Clara looked like a fading light in an attic."The merger agreement," Tiffany said, her voice dripping with a rehearsed sweetness that set Reno's teeth on edge. "It’s not just a product line, Clara. It’s an acquisition of your soul. I’m moving my internal teams to the second floor tomorrow. If you don't like the new floor plan, consider yourself retired."Clara finally turned. Her eyes were rimmed with a manic, glassy brightness. "I’m not a tenant in my own company, Tif

  • Chapter 31 Jakarta's Cold War

    The moment their Gulfstream touched down at Halim Perdanakusuma, the humidity of Jakarta hit them like a wet, suffocating wool blanket. But it wasn't the heat that made the air inside the cabin feel thin; it was the arrival of the silence.Clara hadn’t spoken a word since the lights had flickered and died at the Palais Garnier. She stepped onto the tarmac in the same blood-red dress she’d worn to the opera, now wrinkled, her heels discarded, her posture slumped with the terrifying realization that the walls of her empire were beginning to groan. Waiting for them on the apron, silhouetted against the stark, aggressive neon of the city, was a line of black SUVs. And standing in the center was Tiffany.Tiffany hadn’t been erased. She had been wounded, yes, but her survival was a testament to the fact that you didn't kill a hydra just by cutting off one of its heads. She stood with a cool, mocking elegance, a cigarette burning between her manicured fingers."The Paris office sends its re

  • Chapter 30 Trapping the Orchid

    The trap wasn't built on force; it was built on arrogance. Reno watched from the mezzanine level of the Palais Garnier, the opera house’s gilded halls serving as the perfect tomb for The Midnight Orchid’s grand illusion. Below, Tiffany stood near the main staircase, draped in vintage Dior, her eyes scanning the crowd with a predator's intensity. She wasn't here for the performance. She was here for the handoff—the decryption keys that would theoretically salvage the Orchid’s compromised servers.Reno held his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. It was all so pitifully simple. He had let Tiffany believe that the corrupted data from the cafe earlier that day was an "unstable draft." Now, he had invited her to retrieve the "final version." He stepped into the shadows, his presence signaled by the slight scent of expensive tobacco that always lingered on his coat. He checked his surroundings, catching sight of Clara standing ten feet away, leaning against

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