The Strongest Curse Master-Chapter 135: Executive Assistant Director Matthews

Janice, who had switched places with her brother, appeared abruptly in his bathroom. Ignoring her surroundings, she scrolled hurriedly through her contact list and paused on a name: Executive Assistant Director Matthews. Without hesitation, she dialed the number. As the phone rang, Janice exited the bathroom only to find a naked blonde standing in front of her brother’s bed, startled and wide-eyed.

"Who the fuck are you? Where’s Jason?" the blonde demanded furiously, clutching the sheets to cover herself.

Janice’s gaze didn’t waver. Her expression hardened as she said coldly, "Jason left. I’m his sister. You have three minutes to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops on you." She didn’t wait for a response, turning sharply on her heel and striding out of the bedroom.

She made her way to the balcony of her brother’s two-bedroom apartment. Her movements were brisk, her eyes flicking between her phone screen and the city skyline beyond. The call finally connected, and the voice on the other end sounded strained, brimming with urgency.

"Janice, whatever it is, make it quick. My family is stuck in an storm. I have to make arrangements to rescue them," Executive Assistant Director Matthews snapped, his tone sharp and impatient.

Janice’s jaw tightened. "It’s not a storm. It’s Delores. She’s trapped by twelve Sky-tier cursemaster mages in a Sky Prism array formation. They’re from Countess Godiva Wulfric’s faction. She’s after the Sole Ring. I was forced to escape with the ring by displacing with my brother," Janice explained in a single breath, her words tumbling out rapidly. She took a moment to catch her breath, only for her frustration to mount as EAD Matthews replied dismissively.

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"Crimson Eyes is already there. That makes things easier on my end."

"Let me finish!" Janice snapped, her voice rising slightly. She paced the balcony, gripping the phone tighter. "They have a cursemaster with space-type innate curse tool. Her abilities were strong enough to teleport people halfway across the world and block me from using my teleportation curse tool. If my guess is correct, my idiot brother probably underestimated his opponent—like always—and has likely been teleported to God-knows-where by now. You need to send reinforcements ASAP to help Delores."

"Since, their primary objective failed. I’m guessing they’re planning to take her hostage," she continued, her voice lowering but laced with steel. "That way, they can stop my family from declaring war on them. No matter how they treat her, my family can’t deny she’s my grandfather’s favorite disciple."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with urgency, as she waited for EAD Matthews’ response. Janice couldn’t afford to trust this mission to her brother—he was strong but had never come through for her, and Delores was too precious for her to gamble on trusting her brother.

"Janice, the only Sky-tier cursemaster I have on call is your brother. He is always available because he solves all his cases swiftly. Since he’s already there, I have no one except for the other low-tier C.I.B. agents, who can only help with crowd control and minimize damage but none of them are capable of participating in a fight with Sky-tier cursemasters. Contact your family—they should help. After all, they’re ones that stand to gain from the Sole Ring," EAD Matthews said bluntly, her voice devoid of comfort. The bad news hung heavily in the air, and her suggestion of involving Janice’s family—despite knowing the strained relationship Janice currently had with them—felt like a gut punch.

Janice clenched her jaw, her hand tightening around her phone as she pressed it against her ear. Her voice trembled slightly with frustration as she asked, "What about you? You’re a Sky-tier cursemaster."

Matthews exhaled sharply, her patience thinning. "Janice, just make the call before it’s too late," she snapped before abruptly hanging up.

Janice stared at her phone, her knuckles white. She let out a shaky breath, pacing back and forth on the balcony. The night air did little to cool her rising anger. Just then, her brother’s blonde one-night-stand stopped by and said, "Tell your brother to lose my number," before hurrying out of the door and slamming it shut.

Meanwhile, at her base of operations, Matthews sat back in her chair, her expression grim. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling the weight of her responsibilities crushing her chest. Leaving her post wasn’t an option—not unless someone of equal or higher rank was present to take charge in her absence. Everyone in her rank had been tied up with cases across the state for weeks, leaving her effectively grounded.

It had been three months since she last went home. The memory of her daughter’s smile and the warmth of her husband’s touch flickered in her mind, an ache blooming in her chest. Even now, knowing her family was stuck in the middle of the storm, Matthews remained resolute. She wouldn’t abandon her post as it would be irresponsible.

The last time she’d faced a family emergency that was when her husband had reported to her about the curse core initiation ceremony array on the rooftop of his and her daughter’s school. Without hesitation, she had deployed Crimson Eyes to handle the situation. But now, she could only rely on other agents, hoping they would be enough for securing civilians and her family or Crimson Eyes would come through like he always does.

It wasn’t that the C.I.B. was completely helpless. They had other means to intervene, but the situation didn’t yet warrant their activation. The target of the curse terrorists was the Sole Ring, not the citizens. In Matthews’ higher ups’ mind, this made it the McSuile family’s problem to clean up, not the C.I.B.’s.

She sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. It might seem heartless, but it was what it was.

"Fuck!" Janice screamed at the city skyline, her voice echoing into the night. Her fists clenched at her sides as frustration roiled through her. She turned abruptly, stalking back into the apartment’s living room. Collapsing onto the sofa, she buried her face in her hands, her mind a whirlwind of indecision.

The thought of calling her family gnawed at her. It wasn’t just the price of losing her freedom that held her back—though that weight was suffocating. It was knowing Delores would never want to be rescued if the cost was Janice’s freedom. Delores’s unyielding pride and sense of honor would drive her to choose death over becoming the reason Janice relinquished her independence.

Janice leaned back on the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling, her phone resting heavily in her hand. Minutes ticked by as the internal battle raged within her. Finally, her resolve hardened. Letting out a slow, determined breath, she sat upright, scrolling through her contacts until she found the number she needed.

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before pressing it. She had made her decision—she was calling her uncle. Just then, a noise from the balcony caught her attention. She turned to find her brother landing gracefully, holding a messy-brown-haired, teenage girl in his arms. The girl was weeping, tightly clutching a big plush doll.

Seeing the scene before her, she rubbed her temples in disbelief. With a sigh, she lifted the phone to her ear and said, "Hello, Police Station…"