₦airaland Forum

pFolar:
See hot back to back updates like Christmas gift.. 🎁😁 TBM you too much. Every read Na joy. Every read Na cliffhanger.

Every read Na banger. Soo interesting. Darous and the circle issue go hot gan I'm sure of that. A big bomb go explode soon.

Ride on sweetheart. The sex-scene with Tiffany needs to be completed ooooo😁😁😁😁

I appreciate your comments

Na fuel to my spirit 😁

PrinceOFprince:
😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😄😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

That lemon game wan finish me with laughter. Cos I perfectly relate with it. I've played that game before. I ended up drunk ahswear. But let me give you a warning. No play am with women o. Those creature know how to play it like mad 😂😂😂😂😂

Mr Prince, the first time I played that game with some ladies at my birthday party, I almost died. Those girls nearly finished me with shots! 😂 The funny part? The game barely caught them at all. They even added a rule that someone can help you take your drink only three times in a row. But me? I carried all my shots by myself like a stubborn warrior — and honestly, it was not funny at all. POP! 😂😂😂

Episode 13. Between Truth and Prison.


Detective Kalu got home late that night, and sleep was nowhere to be found. He sat on the edge of his bed, his shirt hanging loose across his shoulders, staring into the dark. The face of the young man from the crime scene—Darous—kept flashing through his mind.
‎
‎Probably in his early thirties, with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor, Darous had a way of noticing things others missed, almost like he could see into even the most deepest corners of anything at all. Kalu couldn't shake the memory of his late brother-Thomas, who had that same gift. Thomas could connect dots in ways that made the chaotic world around them feel manageable. But that brilliance had cost him his life. Kalu ground his teeth. He couldn’t save Thomas from the Circle, but he was determined not to fail Darous.
‎He moved to the fridge, grabbed a whiskey bottle, and poured half a glass. With one tilt, he emptied it, then eased himself onto the edge of his cushion chair. The house was quiet; his wife and only daughter, Naomi — named after his late sister — were already deep in sleep in their rooms.
"Why hasn’t the Circle approached Darous yet?” he wondered. “With the kind of gift that boy has, he’s exactly the type they would want to recruit and twist to their use. But here he is — still free, moving about like nothing. If the Circle had gotten to him already, Darous wouldn’t even dream of standing before a cop like me, let alone talking the way he did.”
Kalu’s mind slipped back to the image he couldn’t shake — the lifeless body he’d seen at Mrs. Adeoye’s party. The man’s name was Ebenezer.
‎Ebenezer had been his target for a long time. Kalu had collected enough evidence tying him to the Circle, but just when he was closing in, they silenced Ebenezer forever to keep him chasing shadows like he had been doing for more than a decade. And as if that wasn’t enough, the Circle had unleashed their deadliest assassin, The Limping Man— a name that made even powerful men shiver. A man with a limp, who always left a trail of blood behind. So when Darous mentioned seeing someone slip away with a limp in his left leg, Kalu felt a strange relief. It meant he was on the right track. It also confirmed what he already suspected — Darous was truly gifted.

Kalu buried his face in his hands. The Circle wouldn’t stay silent forever. If Darous continue living his life this way, sooner or later, they would come for him. Kalu swore he will never let history repeat itself—he couldn’t lose another person born with the same gift as his late brother.
‎A good thing he had told Darous to show up at the station the following monday. "I'll try my best to make sure he doesn't end up like my brother." He muttered to himself that night before entering the dream land.
‎
‎*****
‎I couldn’t sleep that night. My bed suddenly turned into a courtroom bench. My pillow? An evidence file, heavy with secrets, waiting to swallow me whole.
How do you even lie to a police officer? Not just any officer, but Detective Kalu—the kind of man whose eyes don’t just look, they record, rewind, and play back like CCTV. Just imagining it made my chest feel like I was inside a locked cell.

So, like every confused Nigerian youth looking for deliverance, I picked up my phone and asked Google the big question:

“Punishment for lying to police in Nigeria during a murder investigation.”

The answer nearly made me drop my phone. My hands were shaking as if the phone had turned into hot coal.

Section 125A of the Criminal Code Act (Nigeria): giving false information to mislead a public officer—punishable by up to two years in prison. If the lie is connected to a murder case of someone going to the right hand of God? Congratulations, you just upgraded yourself to accessory to murder and the —life imprisonment. And if by bad luck your lie is linked to the death of someone going to hell fire ? Forget prison, just start practicing your final words because death-row is waiting with open arms.

My whole body went cold. I could feel prison winking at me, like one fine babe across the bar, whispering, “I dey wait for you.” I could even see my title changing from “Mr.” to “Ex-con.”

And the truth? Prison is one thing, but graduating with the badge of “Ex-convict” is another. The University of Prison is not for everybody—some don’t survive till convocation, some fail out before exams, some never even see results. Yet here I was, standing in line to enroll in that unwanted institution.

My brain was scattered, my thoughts chasing each other in circles, and in the middle of all the panic… sleep still found me and carried me away like a thief.
‎As human beings, mornings hit us all in different ways. Some people wake up thinking about food—bread, yam, leftover rice, or maybe that soup hiding in the fridge. Some wake up already calculating how to survive the bills waiting for them. Some wake up and remember the one match that cut their betting tickets the previous night, denying them the opportunity to buy the filling station they had priced in their heads when the 'potential winnings' showed on the screen of their phone. Others open their eyes with smiles, replaying a sweet dream, while some wake up annoyed because the dream stopped just when it was getting interesting. There are even people who wake up and the first thing they grab is their phone, scrolling to see if Lionel Messi scored while they were snoring.
‎Truth is, what crosses your mind first thing in the morning has a seventy-five percent rate of shaping your whole day.
‎For me, the moment I opened my eyes, I didn’t think of food, work, or even prayer. What jumped straight into my head was the memory of last night—the call from Chuka, him telling me I had broken a circle rule, and the strange mission that he had sent me in that cursed WhatsApp group.‎
‎I was still contemplating on how to go about the whole thing when my phone rang. The screen flashed a name: Chuka.

‎I picked up, still feeling a bit groggy.
‎“Guy, don't tell me you are still sleeping by this time when you know what's at stake,” Chuka’s voice boomed like a generator. “Anyway, I have information that might help you.”
‎I rubbed my eyes. “What type of information?”
‎He chuckled the way people do when they know they’re about to mess up your life.
‎“Detective Kalu always reach his office before almost everyone in that department. Sometimes one hour earlier. If you can get there before others, you will have like… eighty percent chance to run your mission clean.”
‎I froze. Eighty percent? This wasn’t WAEC. This was prison or freedom.
‎I didn’t know whether to thank him or tell him to go to hell, but I just swallowed spit and muttered, “Alright. Noted.”
‎I jumped into the shower like my life depended on it, because it actually did. The plan had been to first drop the G-Wagon at the rental office based on the contract I signed before the car was rented to me, but forget that. Missing this early-bird window might mean I’d never see outside of prison walls again.
‎So I got dressed as quickly as I could and zoomed straight to the Lagos State police headquarters.. I checked the time, it was ten minus two minutes after eight. In simpler un-mathematical terms, 8:08am..
‎My palms were sweating as I asked for Kalu’s office. One officer pointed down the hallway, and in less than two minutes, I was standing before a glass door with transparent blinds. True to his words, that area of the station was silent.

I peeped inside Mr Kalu's office and there he was — Calm as a rock, stacking files on a shelf like a man who had been waiting his whole life for someone like me to walk in.
I knocked.

“Come in,” he said. His voice carried command, but there was a strange calm in it that made me relax a little.
I stepped in. He turned, stretched out his hand, and gave me a warm handshake.
“Good morning, sir,” I said.

"Have your seat.* He said back.

I sat across the table. The table was a battlefield — files scattered everywhere, books stacked like barricades. Kalu finished with the shelf and came to sit opposite me.

I don’t know how it happened, but the moment I stepped into that office, something strange washed over me — the same calm I felt when the muffled gun went off at that party. A flat, brazen calm, like the whole world had pressed pause just for me.

Kalu adjusted his glasses, leaned back, and said, “So… Darous. Let’s talk.”

“Alright, sir,” I said, trying to sound calm and collected. He packed some files aside and placed another one directly in front of him.

“Darous,” he said, looking at me straight. “First, tell me about yourself. Start with the basics.”

I folded my hands on my knees and answered, “Well, my name is Adigun Darous.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Where are you from?”

“Lanlate in Oyo State, but I’ve been in Lagos a few years.”

He nodded slowly. “What do you do?”

“I’m a bricklayer. I do building work. I take contracts — renovations, shops, anything.”

“And how did you get to that event where the incident happened?”

“The host invited me, sir.”

“Hmmm. How do you know her?”

“I worked for her. I renovated a wall in her house some weeks back. She was the one that called me.”

“And how long have you been working for her?”

“That was the first time, sir.”

“First time?” He raised a brow, doubt creeping into his tone.

“Ye…es,” I dragged the word, trying to figure out what he was fishing for.

“And you said she called you? Mrs. Adeoye?”

“Yes… she did.”

“How did she get your contact? Or did someone give her your number?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. As long as she paid me for the job, I don’t care if she got it from my ex.” I forced a smile. “Or is that a crime too?”

He didn’t answer. Just wrote something down, then looked up again.

“What’s your highest education?”

“SSCE,” I said.

“Really?” He leaned back. “Why haven’t you used that ability? You notice things sharper than the average man. Why settle for this kind of work instead of pushing for more education?”

“My father died a few years after I finished secondary school,” I said quietly. “I couldn’t afford the fees. I had to work. So I stopped school and started bricklaying.”

He was silent for a moment, just studying me with those sharp eyes. Then he muttered, almost to himself, “You remind me of someone I knew.” His face tightened. Then he cleared his throat and went on.

He opened a file and skimmed through it quickly. “Let’s go over what you told me at the party. This has your statement… and others. If you remember anything else — anything at all — now is the time to say it. I’m all ears.”

My chest tightened. Chuka’s warning echoed in my head — saying the Circle wouldn’t spare me if I give this man any information about what happened at the event of Mrs Adeoye. Also that the assassin would stop at nothing, and the next coffin in my family would have my name on it. That thought rang in my mind like an alarm. I swallowed hard and forced a smile. I had no choice but to lie.

I took the calmest breath I could and said, “Errm, sir… everything I said that night were just words of a drunk man. I was wasted. I don’t even remember much. I swear.”

The room went silent. The kind of silence that presses on your skin, heavy and cold. The only sound was the clock on the wall, each tick stabbing the air like a knife. My throat dried up, and I could hear my own heartbeat, thumping too loud inside my chest. Detective Kalu just stared at me, his eyes sharp, searching, like he was peeling away the layers of my lie.

I forced myself not to look away. My palms were sweating, my lips almost trembling, but I kept them still. The silence stretched longer, tighter, like a rope pulling around my neck. For a moment, I thought he could hear the fear screaming in my head. Then, slowly, a small smile crawled across his face.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, keeping my face as blank as the broken screen of an old phone. “I was drunk. I don’t remember what happened. It was only when I got home that my friends told me all I had said. I’m sorry if I troubled you with my immature behavior. I’m deeply sorry.”

The words left my mouth, but they didn’t feel like mine. Each one felt heavy, like swallowing stones. My stomach twisted, my chest burned. I felt small, like a child caught in a lie but still refusing to confess. My whole body screamed for me to stand up and run, yet my legs were glued to the chair.

But even with all that boiling inside me, I forced myself into calm. My voice stayed steady, my face showed nothing. I sat there like a man with nothing to hide, wearing a mask so perfect that even Detective Kalu couldn’t see the storm tearing me apart on the inside.

He turned his head to the window, looked outside for a long moment. Then his eyes dropped to my wrist. The Rolex watch on my wrist. His gaze lingered, then came back to my face. He wrote something in the file.

“You came here this morning with a car, right?” he asked suddenly.

“Ye…es,” I stuttered.

He stood up, walked to the window, pulled the blinds, and scanned the row of cars outside. Then he looked back at me, nodded like he had figured something out, and sat down again.

“You drove a G-Wagon here?”

“Errrm… yes. Is that against the law?”

“Nooo. Not at all. Is it yours?” His tone carried a hidden smile.

“Nooo. Where will I see that kind of money? I rented it for the party on Saturday.”

“How much?” he asked, straight-faced.

“Four hundred K,” I said.

“And you’re a bricklayer?”

Silence. My stomach turned. That was the moment I knew I had walked into my own trap. I could already hear the ringtone of Prison itself calling my name.

Right there, the biggest mistake I’d made that day slapped me across the face: coming to a police station in a G-Wagon. What sane bricklayer from a poor home drives that kind of machine and wears a Rolex on his wrist? What was I thinking? Even if I want to lie to him that I borrowed the money, how do I explain to this smart detective that I borrowed money just to show off at a party? Will he believe me at all?

I felt like a goat that had walked into a lion’s den, carrying pepper soup ingredients on its own head. My mouth was dry. My throat locked up. I could see his eyes studying me, weighing me, like he already knew the answer but was waiting for me to hang myself with my own tongue.

“Alright.* He said suddenly , cutting across my thoughts. "But if I later find out you lied, or you’re hiding something that could lead us to the killer, I will not be kind to you. This is your chance, Darous. Tell me everything you know now.”

“I told you,” I said quickly. “I was drunk. Or is it now a crime to drink in this country?” I faked annoyance.

A sly smile crossed his face. Then he bent over the file and started writing. His pen scratched the paper for minutes before he stopped.

I sat there expecting him to slam the desk or bark at me or worst get me arrested..But he didn’t.
"Thank God." I muttered to myself with a very big feeling of relief.

But this was just half of why I came. The real job was the files. I needed to know how much they had on this dead man’s case.

Finally, he looked up and said, “In this line of work, I’ve seen plenty. Innocent lives destroyed because someone had to choose between truth and lie. Some chose truth and it set them free. Some chose lie and it buried them alive. But one thing is certain… the truth always comes out. Always.”

I couldn’t tell if it was a threat or advice. But either way, he wasn’t acting how I expected.

He stood up suddenly. “I need to grab some papers from the next office. I want you to write a fresh statement about what you just told me. Wait here.”

The door clicked behind him.

My heart jumped for joy. This was it — a golden opportunity, like the referee handing my team a last-minute penalty in a must-win match we were drawing.

The file sat there, witness notes stacked on top. Names visible on the edges. Time stamps. Short lines.

I moved slowly, pretending to adjust the desk, and let my eyes drop to the file. My fingers hovered above the paper. My brain screamed hurry. My chest screamed no. The wall clock ticked louder than ever.

Then as I was about to open the file, the door handle turned.
I froze.

To be continued.

dawno2008:
@tbm e sweet me die say barca loose,cos all the noise last season be say barca for beat psg for final ,anyways man u still dey do me chometin Sorry for Una defeat

Seems this circle guys dey craze for head,na everywhere dem dey chook nose, so Darous no fit cough or mess in peace say him join confra ni
Walahi I love the night with Tiffany,so romantic,u know say kpeshi(sex) wey person nor expect na him dey sweet pass ,and that toyosi babe be like who get hot pant,I see in future say she go straff darous
Abeg Mr writer,I know say writers are killers,abeg no kpai Darous say cos your over hyped club lose ooo
You're always the best entertaining writer on this forum thanks so much for this update TBM baba🤗one luv♥️💯

😂😂 My guy, you too dey burst brain with your comments o! Na true you talk—sometimes me sef dey laugh when I dey write those crazy circle moves. As for Darous, no fear, I no go kpai am because Barca lose, writing no be football pitch 🤣.

Big respect for always following and vibing with the story 🙌. Na readers like you dey ginger me to keep dropping updates steady. One love always ❤️💯

Damilgodwin:
Please someone needs to put this yamal in order oo. Make that guy no go mess up.

what yamal

As a die hard Barcelona fan. No update tonight o. The match pain me die. I should have finished the next episode before watching the match but I only wanted to use the ginger to write incase we won. Now my plan has backfired. Darous might die in the next episode... Ahswear....

Abdulreheem:
Getting more hotter

in baba t's voice.. he dey burn like kerosene 😂😂😂😂😂

edydeyemi:
Ghengen... game on.

😂😂

Continuation of episode 12


By the time we all gathered at the big dining table downstairs, the smell alone was enough to fill the belly.
No fried eggs, no Agege bread, no akara or moinmoin. Instead, bowls of Greek yogurt with honey sat neatly beside fresh berries that looked like they were wearing diamond chains, tiny bowls of almonds, and croissants that looked like they booked first-class flight from Paris.

We all sat around the table.
Mrs. Adeoye at the head of the table like the queen of the castle, me on her right, Tiffany quietly beside me, then Baba T with his big frame. Across from us sat Kenny, already restless. Jude chilled in the far corner, cool as ever, while Toyosi sat beside him, looking elegant like she owned the whole table.

Kenny sat down first, scanned the table like invigilator. He picked one almond, chewed slowly, then hissed loud enough for everybody.
“Na wa o. Mummy...please ma, abeg, where is the real food? Something like Yam? Beans? Even if it's small indomie ah no mind. This one dey remind me of art class for secondary school. Everything wey dey here look like watercolour and crayon for my eyes.”

The table exploded with laughter.

Mrs. Adeoye only smiled softly. “Just try and eat this, Kenny. It’s good for you.”

Baba T didn’t care about anyone. He had already grabbed two croissants, tore them apart like gala, and let the crumbs scatter all over his beard.
“Food na food abeg. Na fuel I dey chop,” he said.

Jude shook his head. “Fuel wey go purge you later. No be all fuel dey power generator o.”

Kenny raised his spoon, pointing at the yogurt like someone presenting evidence in court.
“Abeg, which human being dey chop white pap with honey in the morning? This na punishment breakfast o. Mummy ma, if I faint after eating this thing, just know say na you do me o.”

The table laughed again.

Toyosi picked her croissant with queenly fingers. “Eat, Kenny. Stop complaining. Small civilization won’t kill you.”

“Civilization? For breakfast? Toyosi, you no get conscience. Person dey find akara, you dey bring croissant wey look like baby face... Ehn? .”

We all laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

Mrs. Adeoye passed a plate to me. “Darous, aren’t you hungry? Don’t be shy. Take a bite. You’ll like it.”

I nodded, taking a croissant, trying not to laugh at Kenny who was still side-eyeing the yogurt like it was poison.

Mischief suddenly flashed in Kenny's eyes as he leaned forward.
“So… Toyosi, you enjoy your night with Jude, abi?”

The table went dead quiet for a moment. Jude smirked like he already knew drama was coming.

Toyosi adjusted her cup, smiled faintly, then dropped it in perfect British accent:
“Oh, I had a wonderful sleep. It was extremely… educational.”

The room exploded again. Baba T almost choked on his almond, banging his chest like generator wey no start.

“Educational?! Na bedroom or classroom una enter?!” Baba T shouted, slapping the table so hard one croissant nearly jumped off.

Jude only leaned back, smirking like a man that just won presidential election.

Toyosi sipped her juice slowly. “Yes. Very educational. I learned about patience… observation… and how to manage certain… challenges.”

Kenny froze, spoon still in the air. “Challenges? Jesu! Toyosi abeg no use grammar finish me this early morning o.”

Baba T burst out laughing so hard crumbs sprayed across the table. “See Kenny. She don turn you to student already!”

Kenny shook his head dramatically. “No wahala. I go chop my food jeje. Na small small I go understand this civilization breakfast. But if I collapse, abeg carry me back to Agege bread and ewa agoyin.”

Mrs. Adeoye laughed gently. “You people are too funny. Just take it easy. Don’t rush yourselves.”

Toyosi leaned back with that sly smile, like a chess master. “Don’t waste the food. I can already see some of you struggling with self-control.”

More laughter filled the room. Jude smirked quietly. Baba T kept grinning with crumbs in his beard. Kenny was still side-eyeing Toyosi like she was FBI.

Me? I just focused on my plate, chewing slowly. But I noticed Tiffany—quiet all through, sipping her juice, eyes bouncing between me and Mrs. Adeoye like she was decoding hidden messages.


After breakfast, we all moved into the large space where the event had taken place the previous day. The chandeliers above us glowed soft and golden, and the long dining table was still littered with plates and glasses. The smell of expensive food and perfume hung in the air, but the mood felt like it was balancing between celebration and tension.

Mrs. Adeoye walked over to me, her gown flowing like water, and held my hands.
“Thank you for honouring my invitation, Darous,” she said softly. “I know you had better places to be.”

Before I could answer, Kenny’s voice cut through like a blade.
“Ah, madam, no vex o,” he said with that mischievous grin of his. “Na only this kind place person fit chop free food wey dey enter belle well-well. Na why we come o. We no get better place to be at all…”

Everybody burst out laughing, even Mrs. Adeoye, who shook her head at him with a smile.

Toyosi came next. She hugged each of us tightly, her perfume lingering after every embrace. When she got to me she gave me a quick one.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered, “we’ll all hang out again soon. This isn’t goodbye.”

Before I could respond, Tiffany stepped forward. She didn’t care who was looking. She wrapped her arms around me, pressing her warm body against mine. Then, right there in front of everyone — she kissed me. Not a quick peck. A deep, lingering kiss that tasted like a promise and a warning at the same time.

When she finally pulled away, Toyosi and Tiffany walked to their black GLE parked outside, glanced back at me once, then slipped in and drove off. Their taillights disappeared through the gate like a closing chapter.

I dropped Kenny, Jude, and Baba T at their homes one by one. By the time I parked the rented car under the big tree in front of my compound, my body felt like a dead wood. I switched on the generator and threw myself on the bed, trying to grab a few minutes of sleep.

But just as my eyes started to close, my phone rang. Chuka.

I picked. His voice came cold, like someone who had been waiting to strike.
“Darous, you’ve made a mistake,” he said. “The man who carried out the assassination last night was one of us. A Circle agent.”

I sat up. “What?”

“He was working under orders. The man he killed had crossed the Circle in a very dangerous way. That was why he had to go. You don’t point fingers at people like that. Even if the Circle lets it go, that guy won’t. He will never allow you to stay alive unless you fix this problem. Do you understand?”

My throat went dry. “What do you mean fix it?”

“You talked to Detective Kalu. You told him about the incident. You shouldn’t have said a single word. The rules of the Circle says you must never talk to the police under no matter what. So tomorrow morning, you’ll go back to the station. You’ll tell Kalu everything you said was a lie. That you were drunk. That nothing you said was true. Or you won’t see another sunrise. Do you understand me?”

I couldn’t speak. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would rip through my chest. My mind raced — how the hell did they even know I spoke to a detective, not to talk of knowing his name? These people were not ordinary. The Circle saw everything.

“One more thing,” Chuka’s voice cut through my thoughts, his tone was cold and sharp. “Your next mission link will soon drop in the group. Be ready.”

Minutes later, my phone buzzed. A WhatsApp notification blinked on the screen. A link — identical to the one I’d received for my first mission. My hands trembled as I tapped it.

The page loaded slowly, almost mocking me, until the words appeared.

"You must take a peep into Detective Kalu’s investigation file on last night’s incident. Everything you see inside, you must report back in detail. Failure to do so will be… detrimental."

I dropped the phone and sank my head into the pillow. A scream tore from my throat — not from physical pain but from the weight pressing down on my soul.

To be continued.

Happy independence day celebration to you all.



Episode 12 — Between Teasing and Truth



The guest room Mrs. Adeoye gave me and Tiffany was one of those fancy spaces that whispered class without shouting. Cream-colored walls, soft golden lights, and a king-size bed with spotless white sheets that looked freshly ironed by angels. A fluffy rug sat in the center, soft enough to make you want to walk barefoot forever. Even the curtains looked rich—heavy and silky, swaying gently with the night breeze sneaking through the half-open windows.

“Wow,” I muttered as I dropped my shoes in the corner. “This one room fine pass any hotel wey I don enter before.”

Tiffany giggled, tossing her bag on the bed like she owned the place. “Exactly why I’m taking my shower first. Ladies first.”

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “No wahala. Just don’t finish all the hot water.”

She winked at me before slipping into the bathroom. I could hear the water running almost immediately, splashing against the tiles. She spent more than twenty minutes inside, long enough for me to start wondering if she had fallen asleep in the shower. Just when I was about to knock, the door creaked open.

Tiffany stepped out, steam curling around her, her skin glistening with droplets. A towel was wrapped across her chest, barely holding on, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. The fragrance of her soap and body wash filled the room, sweet and fresh, mixing with the steam.

I froze. My mouth went dry. I couldn’t even begin to describe how aroused I was, just watching her like that.

But Tiffany pretended not to notice. She hummed softly, walked over to her bag, and pulled out a silky nightgown she had packed earlier. As she slipped it on with practiced ease, I couldn’t help asking, half-teasing, half-curious, “Wait… you come with nightwear? So you don already plan say you go sleep over?”

She shot me a sly smile without answering, only adjusting the strap of her gown. That silence alone was an answer. Even Toyosi had slipped in with her own bag before going into Jude’s room. Clearly, they all came prepared.

I swallowed hard, trying not to stare too much, but it was impossible. Tiffany’s curves filled the gown like it was designed only for her, and the scent of her freshly washed skin floated across the room, making me salivate.

I grabbed my own towel and rushed into the bathroom before my thoughts betrayed me.

The bathroom itself was another world entirely. No wonder Tiffany had taken her sweet time inside. Marble tiles shone under soft recessed lights, with a giant mirror so clear it made me look like I belonged on a magazine cover. The shower sprayed out warm water in a smooth, steady rain, washing over me in waves. The first touch made me groan with relief—it was like heaven pressing the reset button on my tired body. Steam curled around me, lifting away the dust, sweat, and tension of the long day.

By the time I finally stepped out, towel wrapped around my waist, I felt new—refreshed, alive, and ready for whatever the night decided to throw at me.

Tiffany was already stretched across the entire king-size bed, limbs everywhere, duvet tucked under her like she was claiming territory.

I dropped my towel on the chair and pointed. “Ehn-ehn! Madam, what’s the meaning of this?”

She flipped her hair dramatically, pretending to scroll through her phone. “Meaning? The bed has chosen its rightful owner. Floor is calling your name, my dear.”

“Floor ke? For this sweet bed?” I clutched my chest like a heartbroken man. “Tiffany, fear God na. I be person pikin, I get feelings too.” I sang the last line in Zinoleesky’s voice.

She burst out laughing, hugging the pillow. “Boundaries, sir. Gentlemen like you should respect them. Abi you wan chop cane?”

I raised both hands like a surrendering soldier. “Consent is my middle name o. But at least pity me with pillow.”

She pointed to a tiny throw pillow on the chair. “Take that one. Manage it.”

I picked it up, sighed dramatically, and looked like a homeless man in a rich neighborhood. “Fine. But just know, I’m taking the duvet. Non-negotiable.”

Her eyes widened. “What?! You can’t—”

Before she could finish her sentence, I yanked the duvet off her, rolled myself on the floor, and wrapped it tightly around my body like a giant shawarma. “Goodnight,” I announced with pride, grinning. “May your bedbugs bite you in peace.”


Tiffany laughed so hard. “You’re crazy this guy...”


I had barely closed my eyes when her voice came down the hall of the bed, soft and almost trembling.

“Darous…”

“Hm?” I murmured, still half-lost in sleep.

She let out a quiet, heavy sigh. “Do you know why I play hard to get sometimes?”

I shook my head slightly, though she couldn’t see me.

“It’s… not because I don’t like you. It’s… everything else.” Her voice broke, and for a moment, I could hear the weight of a lifetime behind it. “My uncle… he was supposed to protect me, guide me after my father passed. But he… he betrayed me in ways I’m still figuring out. And my father—he trusted people, people he thought were loyal… and they sent him to prison. I watched him break, Darous. I watched a man I loved more than anything crumble because of betrayal from those closest to him. And I… I learned to be afraid. Afraid to let anyone in, afraid to believe in people, because I’ve seen what trust can do when it’s shattered.”

Her voice softened, almost a whisper now.

“And then… there was him. My ex. It was as if he was sent by the devil himself to come and add to the misery. Because I trusted this guy. I let him see all the pieces of me I never show anyone… and he broke them anyway. Made me feel like I was nothing, like I wasn’t enough. I’ve carried that pain… and it made me think, maybe I’m not made for love. Maybe opening up only ends in heartbreak.”

She paused, as if afraid I might run at the sound of her truth. “So sometimes I hold back. Not because I don’t want… not because I don’t care… but because I’m scared. Scared that if I give too much… I’ll lose myself again.”

I stayed quiet, letting the stillness of the night wrap around her words. Her usual sarcasm, her teasing bravado—it had all melted away, leaving something raw, fragile, and achingly human.

“I understand,” I said finally, my voice low and steady. “Take your time. No rushing at all. I’m not here to force anything. Just… heal at your own pace. Okay?.”

A long silence. Then a soft, fragile chuckle, like the faintest flicker of light in a dark room.

“You always know what to say this guy...”

“I no sabi talk,” I mumbled from under the duvet. “Na wisdom from my ancestors I dey use.”

She laughed again, quieter, warmer, almost like she was letting herself hope—just a little.

Sometime past midnight, I woke up to a weird feeling—like someone was stealing my duvet. I opened one eye and saw her… Tiffany, curled up on the floor, dragging half of the blanket with her. Her bare skin was touching mine under the duvet since I was also completely naked under it.

“Ah ah! Wetin be this? Wetin be this? Wetin be this.? Jesus jesus jeeeesuuuus” I repeated in that popular meme sound.

She shivered. “It’s cold up there. Your floor… your floor is warmer.”

“You should have thought of that before sending me to sleep on the floor,” I teased. “First time I dey hear say prison warder enter prison cell because the outside is too cold.”

“Come on… don’t be selfish. The floor is big enough,” she protested.

I raised an eyebrow. “So the same madam wey dey always talk say I must respect boundaries… na she carry body come invade my space by midnight?”

She giggled softly, and I could feel her warmth through the duvet.

“Shut up jare,” she muttered, pulling the duvet tighter. “Just shift small.”

I grinned in the dark. “No wahala. But make sure you no roll reach my side o, cos I'll not be held responsible for whatever happens as a result..”

She laughed into the pillow, her shoulder brushing mine.
“Idiot boy....”

By the time we spent like five minutes in that position, my d1ck was already hard.

Tiffany turned towards me, seeing my hard di1ck protruding through the duvet, she smiled, “Wow, is this really me doing this to you?”

I just nodded, trying hard to keep my cool. But then, out of nowhere, courage rose inside me. Before I knew it, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers. Tiffany didn’t pull back — she melted into me, her body warm against mine.

The duvet slipped away, leaving nothing between us. Skin to skin, our breaths tangled, the heat of her chest rising against mine. The cold floor no longer mattered; all I felt was her softness, the taste of her lips, the way her fingers traced slowly along my back as if she didn’t want to let go.

She hungrily embraced me like someone possessed while my one hand was cupping one of her firm t1ts, and her own hand finding my c0ck-enveloping it, tugging softly up and down.

Again, our passion burned hotter, swallowing the moment whole. Just as I was about to lift her and carry us to the bed, Tiffany pressed her palms against my chest and gently pushed me back.
My c0ck now felt as if it was going to explode from its skin, but I wanted this moment to last.

Tiffany lay down on the floor and I seamlessly followed right on top of her. Our lips connected, her hard nipples pushing against mine, the head of my c0ck beginning to part her vaginal lips releasing our combined juices from the portal of heaven.

Every nerve in my body screamed to sink my c0ck into her warmth pvssy, to claim every part of her right there on the floor. But my mind whispered restraint—I had to slow down, to savor her, to explore every curve and secret of this goddess laid before me.

Breaking our embrace, I trailed my lips down, surveying every millimeter of Tiffany’s warm skin along her neck before reaching her t1ts. I took gentle mouthfuls of her soft breast flesh, then moved to her areola, tasting and teasing before capturing it fully between my lips. My tongue circled and flicked her nipple, and I felt it stiffen, hard and extended against my tongue. Tiffany gripped the back of my head tightly, her breathing growing deeper, heavier, as small shivers ran through her body.
She gently pressed on the back of my head, guiding me downward, breaking my hold on her breast. I trailed kisses across her flat stomach, tracing circles around her belly button before moving lower, teasing the rise just above her pubic bone. My lips nibbled and tasted as I went, until my tongue finally reached the very edge—the confluence of her soft, wet vaginal lips, waiting for me.
Tiffany pushed on the back of my head, “Yes, yes, Oh my god, yes!” she blurted as I freed the knob, sucking her cl1t into my mouth.

Her hips began to move, humping in synchronization with my mouth tugging on her extended cl1t using my teeth to gently clasp on it.

Her movements became more erratic, as she pushed my head harder into her crotch, popping her cl1t from my mouth.
My tongue naturally explored the folds of each side of her pvssy lips, then found its way into her opening.

She bucked wildly at the same time she drove my tongue into her now drenched pvssy.
The smell and taste were like a drug to me—I couldn't get enough of them, even though Tiffany kept pouring out more liquid. The smell filled my nose every time I breathed in. It was amazing.
I sucked in what felt like a mouthful of her juices and went back to her cl1t.

Tiffany screamed, “Oh, oh, my god, I am cummming!” as she drove her hips upwards.
My hands were on her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers and thumbs.

Her body went limp, the nipples in my fingers went flaccid, she made a purring sound and gently brought my head up.

“That was the best orgasm I ever had.” she cooed as my head was brought up to her breast.

Within minutes Tiffany was asleep.

I rolled over to the other side and dropped a satisfactory grin.

And just like that, the room went quiet again—two bodies sharing one duvet, no rush, no pressure. Just warmth and bliss.

Tiffany’s shoulder brushed mine under the duvet, and her steady breathing soon dragged me into sleep.


*****


A heavy knock nearly shook the door off its hinges.
“Darous! Wake up! Time don go o!” Kenny’s voice boomed through the wood.

I groaned, struggling to free myself from the duvet wrapped around me like handcuffs. Tiffany was still curled up like a lazy cat, her hair scattered across her face.

“Guy, abeg, if you no open this door now, I go call police o. You get mind leave me with that Gee Pee tank while you dey here dey enjoy AC and romance!” Kenny added, his voice dripping with mischief.

I dragged myself up, got into my underwear, and opened the door just a little. Kenny’s eyes immediately scanned the room like CCTV. The moment he spotted Tiffany, wrapped in duvet on the floor, he froze.

“Ehen!” He clapped his hands and grinned. “So this is why you abandoned me? You dey here dey flex life while I dey suffer!”

Before I could even defend myself, I slammed the door behind me and joined him and Jude in the lobby.

Jude was already waiting, eyes sharp with gist. He leaned closer, whispering like a thief planning a robbery.
“Guy, talk true… you and Tiffany… una knack?”

I scratched my head slowly, refusing to fall into their trap. “And you expect me to answer that? Abeg o, I no dey kiss and tell.”

Jude laughed, shaking his head. “Na so you go dey dodge question? No wahala. Me and Toyosi… my guy, omo! The girl na machine. Back to back performance!”

I raised my brow, pretending to be shocked. “Really? And Cynthia? You no dey reason how she go feel if she hear this?”

Jude waved his hand carelessly. “Forget Cynthia, jare. Old cargo. Toyosi na the real deal. Omo, see skin like caramel… fresh die!” He said it with so much joy, you’d think he just won a jackpot.

Kenny almost fell on the chair laughing. “Caramel skin ke! Jude, you no go ever serious.”

Me? I just smiled faintly, keeping my mouth shut. Their noise no shake me one bit. My own joy was still fresh — the laughter, the warmth, the peace Tiffany gave me that night… plus the “you know.” That single memory was enough to carry me through the whole day.

Damilgodwin:
Boss you are so good with words, well arranged and crackfill 😁

I appreciate the kind words

SmartestPopQUEEN:
we happy to have you back dear... 🥰

and I'm equally happy to be back

SmartestPopQUEEN:
If there's one thing I've learned from following your stories since all these years, it's never to assume anything. Because with you, anything is possible and possible is anything 😂... Ride on. But my own suspicion is also that Darous and the detective will team up. Though the tragic background of that detective made me feel sorry for the circle in advance for what he's gonna do to them once he eventually caught up with them... A great story you got here dear... We rooting for you

Guessing is part of the game madam.... 😂😂 I feed on your guesses to even make the story better.... 😂

Abdulreheem:
Keep it flowing me Darous

🙏🙏🙏

drewbar:
That's the most obvious thing but I know TBM wants us to think that way and he will do the unexpected. I feel they will work together for their mutual benefit. The Circle will want him to work with Kalu so they can control the narrative but he will end up betraying them. Anyway TBM. Was I close in my assertions.

Time will tell my bro

xaviercasmir:
I bet the detective and Darious will team up together.
Nice one boss

you bet? 😄 Let's put a stake on it man....

drewbar:
I wasn't expecting this twist. So many twists and turns. Nice one bro.

We await the next episode patiently.

Brace yourself bro... 😂😂

Abdulreheem:
When ever I read ur new episode I always forget myself in it but at least I will be disappointed when it end .
Ur kind of story isn't not the kind that my curiosity will like to wait for .
Please keep it flowing for us before u hear curiosity kill the reader 😄😄😄.
Thanks for the update man

I'm humbled boss. Thanks for staying tuned

Episode 11 — Shadows of the Past, Patterns of the Present


Detective Kalu was a man shaped by pain and shadows. At forty-six, he carried himself with a quiet weight that demanded attention—not through noise or fury, but through the aura of someone who had survived everything the world could throw at him. His hair was streaked with silver, his eyes sharp and piercing, and the faint lines on his forehead spoke of decades spent chasing monsters hidden behind polite faces.

His story began in the early 1990s. Kalu’s parents had died in a very tragic accident that claimed the lives of more than thirty-five people on their way home from a friend's naming ceremony. Kalu was very young when the unfortunate incident happened, leaving him, his older brother Thomas, and their only sister Naomi to fend for themselves. Thomas became both father and brother, the protector of the household. Naomi, the second-born, was their light and joy. She was full of life.

But tragedy struck in 1992. Naomi, just twelve years old, was hurrying home from an errand in the heavy rain when the son of a wealthy man laid eyes on her from the balcony of his father's mansion.

Arrogant, cruel, and entitled, he decided she would be nothing more than his plaything. He brutally assaulted her and left her broken. The violence threw her into a coma that lasted more than three months. They spent all the money and possessions their late parents had left for them on her, until they were left with nothing.

Every day, Thomas and Kalu sat by her hospital bed, praying for a miracle that never came. Naomi eventually succumbed to the cold hands of death, leaving the two brothers shattered, their lives forever fractured.

Thomas’ grief rolled into a quiet fury. He began noticing things most people would overlook—subtle lies in the hospital reports, the way witnesses suddenly contradicted themselves, the invisible hand that made Naomi’s case vanish from police records.

Behind it all, Thomas discovered whispers of a secretive, powerful network—the Circle. They had protected the boy’s family, silenced the hospital, and buried the truth. Worse still, they had already begun watching Thomas, studying his every move.

One evening, a man in a sleek ash-colored Peugeot 505 parked outside Thomas’ small apartment. Thomas had just come back from a construction site, where he had toiled all day as a laborer, just to put food on the table for his younger brother.

“Thomas,” the man said, voice cold and measured, “you know who killed your sister. We want you to let it go... And what you get in exchange for that is power, money, influence—everything you’ve been dreaming of can be yours.”

Thomas, barely in his twenties, spat on the floor. “You want me to become like you? To sell my soul and betray my brother?”

The agent’s gaze didn’t change. “If you refuse, your brother—the only family you have left—will pay with his life. Think carefully. Nothing in this world is more important than keeping him safe. Refuse us and we will take him. You don't have a choice in this situation.”

Thomas felt something break inside him. Rage burned hot, but under it sat a cold, hollow fear. Running wasn’t an option; the Circle’s reach touched every corner—police, courts, even neighbors. There was nowhere to hide.

When the pressure became unbearable, Thomas found a third way—the one the Circle never imagined.

It was the ultimate sacrifice.

Two nights later, Kalu returned home to find his world broken beyond repair. Thomas had hanged himself in their small living room. On the table was a note addressed to Kalu, written in his brother’s steady hand.

In the letter, Thomas begged Kalu to live, not to be consumed by vengeance, but to dedicate his life to protecting the innocent. “Do not fight the Circle head-on,” the note warned. “They are too powerful to face recklessly. Learn their ways. Study shadows. Become the kind of man they cannot bend or buy. And above all, never forget—you carry my love and Naomi’s light in you. That must be enough to keep you standing.”

Kalu was only fifteen when he buried his brother. From that moment, he became a man with one mission: justice. Not the kind found in courts or headlines, but the kind that hunts in silence, the kind that brings fear to predators who believe they are untouchable.

His early years in the police force were brutal. He was mocked for being poor, for refusing bribes, for chasing cases that “didn’t matter.” But he remembered Thomas’ words. Each insult only sharpened him. Each failure taught him patience. Kalu built himself into a weapon, a detective who saw patterns others ignored, who followed whispers others dismissed.

Yet the Circle never disappeared. They remained in the shadows—watching, testing, sometimes even sending false leads to lure him astray. A few times, they tried to recruit him the way they had Thomas, dangling money and influence. He refused each time, quietly but firmly, knowing too well the cost of saying yes.

To the world, Detective Kalu was a policeman with unusual stubbornness, a man who couldn’t be bought. But deep inside, every case he solved, every criminal he brought down, was an unspoken tribute to Thomas and Naomi. And though he rarely said it aloud, he knew the truth: his war with the Circle was not over. It had only just begun.


********

When Detective Kalu told me to repeat what I had just said, I froze. My eyes caught the police badge on his chest pocket, shining under the light, and my stomach sank. Right there I knew—anything I said could be twisted against me. In this system, they don’t even need proof; they only needed someone to blame. Accessory to murder? Reason why Onana failed at Manchester United? Why Arsenal haven't won UCL up till 2025? They could pin it all on me easily.

My tongue felt heavy, my hands sweaty. The jokes I had been sharing with my friends moments ago suddenly seemed foolish. As I looked at Kalu’s tall figure and those sharp eyes drilling into me, it felt like the ground beneath my feet wasn’t steady anymore.

“Repeat what you just told your friends,” he said quietly, his voice firm but measured.

Tiffany urged me softly, “Go ahead, tell him everything.”

“My name is Detective Kalu, from the state headquarters. Feel free to talk to me. Whatever you say will be valued, I promise. Trust me… you’re safe.”

It felt like he had just read my thoughts. Somehow, his words sank into me. Maybe it was the calm way he spoke, or the steady look in his eyes that seemed to see straight through me. I couldn’t explain it. But I found the courage to open my mouth and tell him everything I had seen and heard.

We followed him to a quieter corner of the big house. Everyone—my friends, Tiffany, Toyosi—sat on low sofas, while Kalu leaned against the wall, sharp eyes observing every movement.

“A glass tipped somewhere behind us,” I said carefully. “Then came a faint metallic scrape… and a muffled pop. The lights flickered, the chandelier swayed even though nobody touched it. A burnt smell slipped through the perfumes in the hall. That’s when I knew something was wrong.”

Kalu nodded quietly, letting me finish before asking, “And your name is?”

“Darous,” I answered quickly. Tiffany’s palm was still on my shoulder, warm and steady, reminding me I wasn’t alone in that room.

Kalu leaned forward, his pen scratching slowly. “You noticed before the crowd. Did anyone else catch it too?”

I thought hard. “Most people were still feeling the vibe of the party at the time. But one waiter—he froze mid-step, tray shaking. And at the far corner, a woman clutched her husband’s arm so tight, like she already sensed danger. Their fear came seconds before the scream.”

Kalu’s eyes narrowed, tapping the table softly. “Good. Now, the man who collapsed. The path he took—anything off? Floor, carpet, tiles?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. The floor there is smooth. I renovated that wall myself—brand new tiles. He didn’t fall because of the ground. Something else hit him.”

Kalu stopped writing for a moment, studying me. “Then tell me about the people near him. Body language. Any suspicious moves?”

I swallowed and pictured it. “When he went down, panic spread slow, but a few people were… different. That same waiter dropped his tray and vanished into the crowd. And the woman at the corner—she wasn’t looking at the body. Her eyes were locked on the far wall, like she knew where the danger came from.”

Silence filled the space except for Kalu’s pen pressing harder on the paper.

“You’re sure?” he asked. “The pop? The smell?.”

“Yes,” I answered firmly. “It was a gun. Silencer. Nothing else fits.”

Kalu’s gaze lingered, sharp and heavy. Finally, he said, almost to himself, “You have a gift. A rare one. You remind me of my brother—he too could see the cracks, the small signs others ignore. You carry the same eye.”


Toyosi, leaning slightly forward, whispered to Tiffany, “Omo, how is he explaining everything so calmly…? I can’t even follow half of it!”

Baba T muttered, “Na our boy sef… nobody dey notice things like this, my guy na Robocop...”

Even Tiffany’s eyes sparkled, a mix of admiration and curiosity, as she observed me. Jude and Kenny were silent, but I could feel the weight of their awe.

Kalu leaned back, folding his arms. “Darous… I want you at the station Monday morning. I need a detailed reconstruction of every movement, sound, and shift in the environment. You’ll be essential in understanding what really happened tonight.”

I nodded, feeling the tension settle in my chest.

After Detective Kalu dismissed us with his final instructions, the party was already down. Guests whispered in corners, some sneaking out quietly, the police men had already put a tape on the crime scene.


As we made our way to Mrs. Adeoye to bid her goodnight, she looked at me in a way that made me remember how my ex-girlfriend used to look at me. Her eyes lingered just a little too long, her smile softer than usual.

“Darous,” she said warmly, “the police said you were really helpful to them. Thank you.”

Her hand brushed my arm lightly, almost like she didn’t want to pull away. Tiffany shifted beside me, her brows raising slightly, but she said nothing.

Then Mrs. Adeoye’s tone changed to something more protective.
“With all that has happened tonight, I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you or your friends on the road. Please, you must sleep here. There are three spare rooms left. I’ve already given the others to some of my close friends.”

Before I could even answer, Tiffany’s voice came sharp and quick:
“Me and Darous will share a room together,” she said, looping her arm through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.



“Ehn-ehn,” Mrs. Adeoye chuckled, clearly amused, “that’s settled then. Tiffany and Darous in one room, Toyosi in another, and your three friends together in the last one.”

“Wait first!” Kenny suddenly burst out, throwing his hands in the air. “How Toyosi go dey enjoy one big room all to herself, and me? I go dey squeeze with Baba T and Jude? Na who plan this wicked arrangement?”

Baba T adjusted his belt over his round belly and grinned.
“Kenny, calm down. Na because you no get pot belly na why. If you get my own stature, dem for don dash you master bedroom.”

Everybody laughed. Jude shook his head, already tired of the drama.
“Kenny, abeg no disturb me this night. I don tire. Na sleep remain for me.”

Kenny pointed at him furiously.
“Sleep? Sleep wey dey sound like train station? Jude, you dey snore like I pass my neighbour generator wey no wan off. If dem carry me go police station tomorrow, na because I kill you inside sleep!”

Toyosi covered her mouth, giggling hard. “But Kenny, see the bright side—you get two free heaters beside you. One with pot belly, one with snoring. You go sleep warm!”

“God forbid!” Kenny snapped. “See as you dey shine teeth. Na you suppose share that big room with me. Abi you dey fear me? I no dey bite o. I fit even sing you lullaby.”

Tiffany burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Kenny, you this guy, you no get shame. Leave Toyosi alone abeg. Carry your wahala go that room with your brothers.”

Kenny folded his arms dramatically.
“No wahala. Make una no beg me when I faint tomorrow morning. If Baba T roll on top me with that belle, na finish be that.”

“Dey play,” Baba T said, patting his belly proudly. “This one dey soft, e dey friendly. You go even enjoy am.”

Everybody laughed until tears rolled. Even Mrs. Adeoye chuckled softly, though her eyes still lingered on me like she was thinking more than she was saying.

Just when it seemed like Kenny was going to sulk all the way to their room, Toyosi leaned back in her chair, sipping her drink with a mischievous grin.

“Okay, wait,” she said, raising her glass. “I don’t want to be wicked. Instead of me locking a whole room to myself, one of you can share with me.”

Kenny’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes! I volunteer my self as the sacrificial lamb!”

“Calm down, ogbeni,” Jude muttered.

But Toyosi wasn’t done. “However… the person has to earn it. You have to prove you’re worthy of my company.”

“How?” Baba T asked, suspicious. "You need our Waec results? Cos if na that one, you better pick Jude right now..no waste your time..."

Toyosi smiled, her eyes glittering with mischief. “Simple. The three of you will play a game called Lemon Lemon.”

“Lemon wetin?” Baba T frowned, rubbing his belly. “Is it food? Because if na food competition, I go win.”

Everybody burst out laughing. Tiffany nearly choked on her drink.

“No,” Toyosi said, laughing. “Not food. It’s a smart game. Since it's only three of you that will play it, each of you will pick a number—Lemon one, Lemon two, Lemon three. The rule is: when it’s your turn, you must first call your own lemon number before calling another person’s lemon number. The lemon number you call must be within the other two people in the game. If you forget, or stammer, or mess it up, you lose and take a shot. Simple. Who ever doesn't get drunk in this game gets to share the room with me.”

Kenny rubbed his palms together, grinning. “Ehen, na my type of game. Easy win. Baba T and Jude, i wish you guys a blissful moment on your matrimonial bed this night... ”

"You think say na by mouth?" Jude fired back.

“Pick your numbers jare...you talk too much... ,” Toyosi said.

“I be Lemon 1!” Kenny shouted proudly.

“I go be Lemon 2,” Jude said calmly.

Baba T scratched his head. “Okay, na me be Lemon 3. But wait o, no cheating. If someone cheats nko? …”

“You drink a shot ni!” Toyosi and Tiffany chorused while laughing.



Then the game began with Kenny chanting the Lemon Lemon slang very loud.

Kenny puffed his chest. “Lemon 1… Lemon 2!”

Jude didn’t even blink. “Lemon 2… Lemon 3!” He responded very fast.

Baba T froze. His eyes darted left and right. “Ehm… ehm… Lemon 3… err—Lemon 4!”

The whole room exploded in laughter.

“Lemon 4?! Where you see Lemon 4 from?!” Kenny screamed, holding his belly.

Even Toyosi was wiping tears. “Baba T! Ah! Drink your shot jare!”

They poured him a strong glass of champagne, and he downed it, coughing. “Kai! This thing dey burn like kerosene!”



Round two.

Jude started. “Lemon 2… Lemon 3.”

Baba T snapped back fast this time around. “Lemon 3… Lemon 1!”

Kenny slammed the table. “Lemon 1… Lemon—ah mogbe—Lemon 1!”

Everybody collapsed with laughter again.

“You call your own lemon twice!” Jude shook his head.

“That one no count! I no hear myself!” Kenny protested.

“Shot! Shot! Shot!” they all shouted, and Toyosi poured him a shot.


By the eighteenth round, Kenny was already tipsy, slurring his words.

“Lemon oneee… Lemon… ehm… Lemon—Toyosi!”

“Wetin?!” Toyosi burst out laughing. “You just call my own name inside game? Kenny, drink!”

“Ah! This girl wan finish me!” Kenny groaned, downing his glass. “But no wahala, I go win next round.”

He didn’t. He lost three more times in a row.

Meanwhile, Jude kept his cool. Sharp, quick, never missing a beat.
“Lemon 2… Lemon 1.”
“Lemon 2… Lemon 3.”
“Lemon 2… Lemon 1 again.”

He played like a pro, steady and unfazed.

At last, Toyosi clapped her hands. “Enough! Enough! I can’t laugh anymore, my stomach hurts. Baba T, and Kenny… you two are officially drunk. Look at you!”

Baba T was swaying in his chair, grinning foolishly. “Na lie. I still dey win…”

Kenny hiccupped loudly. “Toyosi, forget Jude. I… I sabi knack pass am. Gimme your key.”

“Go and hug your pot belly roommate,” Toyosi laughed.

She turned to Jude, her smile softer now. “You… you’re the only one who held your ground. I like a man who can handle alcohol and games. You win.”

Jude tried to hide his smile, but the redness in his cheeks betrayed him. Kenny nearly fell off his chair in protest.

“Cheat! Na cheat! Rematch tomorrow!” he slurred, pointing at everyone.

“Carry am go bed,” Tiffany said, still laughing as she hooked her arm into mine.

And just like that, the rooms were settled—Tiffany and I in one, Toyosi and Jude in another, while Kenny and Baba T stumbled their way into their matrimonial room, still arguing who lost more rounds.


To be continued

TemiGURL:
Just like what the other readers said, you are indeed a blessed man with the pen. You are the only reason I come to nairaland this days. Ride on. Just imagine the entrance of Tiffany and her friend. TBM you know how to make one feel jealous 😂😂😂 for a moment there, I wish you were describing me and my friends.... 😂😂😂. That's why I love your work. Ride on my guy... 💯

Hmmm. My lady, I appreciate. Thanks... 🙏🙏🙏

dawno2008:
You can say that again, he's called TBM for a reason ,bros I duff my hat ,see film abeg,it was so smooth to read,I actually visualize the all scenes,TBM baba,you too much,
This one na Sunday tonic,see me smiling to Tiffany's entrance and feeling the vibes,either you stay hia or move to kutuegin just give me link to follow, stay blessed baba tbm

see as my head dey swell like Julian Alvarez own.... 😂😂😂😂 Stay blessed my boss

drewbar:
I have edited all my typos ooh...lol

I noticed

drewbar:
All I can is that you are truly blessed. You have a wat with words that keep the leader engrossed. Its like I don't want the story to stop.

You can leave here ooh, ride on bro. We are rooting for you.

It almost feels like I am watching a movie.

Thanks 🙏 boss. I appreciate the words

Continuation of episode 10.



Later that night, I dialed Tiffany’s number. She picked on the second ring.

“Hey stranger,” I said smoothly.

She chuckled. “So you finally remembered me.”

“Remembered?” I teased. “Tiffany, since yesterday, your smile has been running adverts in my head. And unlike DSTV, I can’t even change the channel.”

She laughed softly over the phone. “Hmm. This your mouth sha. You rehearse these things?”

“Nope. They just show up anytime you cross my mind. Which, unfortunately, is almost every five minutes.”

“Ah. So I’m disturbing your peace now?” she asked, playful.

“Disturbing? No. You’re the kind of disturbance that makes a man cancel his alarm. Who needs sleep when Tiffany’s voice is alive in the mind?”

She was quiet for a moment, then chuckled. “You’re unbelievable. So what's up, Mr. Smooth Talker?”

"Nothing too heavy,” I told her. “Just your company this weekend. There’s a party. The host invited me personally. It’s happening right here in Lagos. Champagne, lights, the whole ‘forget Nigeria has problems’ vibe. Clear your schedule cos I want you there with me.”

She paused. “Hmm… sounds tempting. But I don’t do parties alone.”

“That’s easy,” I shot back. “Bring a friend. Two queens. I’ll handle the rest.”

She laughed, soft and warm. “Darous, you’re trouble.”

“Correction,” I said with a grin. “I’m your trouble. And this Saturday, I’ll be the kind of trouble you’ll actually thank me for.”

Her giggle over the phone sealed it. “Alright. We’ll be there.” We talked on for a while before bidding eachother good night.


---

The rest of the week drifted by without a single call from the Circle. It was total silence and in that silence, I almost forgot they existed.

Then Saturday came.

The white G-Wagon I had rented for—almost half a million naira—was spotless, gleaming like new money. Papers ready, money paid with agreement that I return it the following Monday. I pulled up at home to meet the boys, and what I saw nearly made me laugh out loud.

For the first time ever, Baba T and Kenny looked like men who had sense. Sharp suits, clean cuts… Baba T even passed for a gentleman. Jude, of course, didn’t disappoint; he was always the smooth dresser of the squad, and his fitted black tux was proof.

I slipped into my own black suit to match the squad’s look, and half an hour later, we were ready. Four sharp men, one destination.

Sliding behind the wheel, I cranked up DJ Twise’s mixtape, and the car came alive. As we rolled out, my guys couldn’t stop grinning—touching the leather seats, nodding to the bass, enjoying the feel of luxury.

That ride wasn’t just transportation. It was a statement.


Some minutes later, our rented G-Wagon glided into the driveway like it belonged there. The valet bowed slightly, reaching for the keys, and for a brief second, I thought to myself: this is the life.

“Guy!” Baba T whispered loudly as he jumped down, “see as people dey look us. I swear, if dem ask me now, I go just lie say na my motor.”

“Shut up joor,” Jude hissed. “Even the steering go reject you with that your pot belly.”

We all laughed, straightening our blazers, brushing invisible dust from our shoes. We stepped out like four kings who had finally arrived in their kingdom.


The valet hadn’t even closed our doors before another ride slid up behind us — that sleek black GLE Benz. The headlights alone demanded attention, and when the engine cut off, it was like the whole compound leaned forward, waiting.

Then the doors opened.

Out stepped Tiffany, and beside her, her friend in blazing red.

For a full five seconds, the world froze. Conversations died mid-sentence. Even the security guards at the gate stood taller, as if they too had suddenly remembered they were men. Tiffany adjusted her emerald gown slightly, the slit catching just enough light to blind common sense. Her friend’s red dress shimmered like she was born from fire.


Beside me, Kenny let out an actual gasp. “Jesus wept. Mo gbe...Angels don land Lagos.”

Baba T slapped his chest dramatically. “Omo! I fit sell my papa’s land for this kind girl!”

Even Jude, who was always calm, whispered, “ Na wah o. These ones fit make man forget his surname o.”

I chuckled inside, keeping my cool, though my own chest was hammering small. What they didn’t know — what nobody knew — was that these very same angels were here for me.

Then it happened.

With all eyes still following their every step, Tiffany locked her eyes on me. A smile spread across her lips, warm and sure, and she started walking. Her friend followed, heads high, gowns flowing, like two queens coming to claim their throne.

And then… she wrapped me in a tight hug. Right there, in front of everybody.

My friends? Their jaws hit the floor.

Baba T’s mouth opened so wide I thought a mosquito might fly in. Kenny blinked twice, muttering, “This life no balance. How? How, Lord?” Jude just folded his arms, staring at me like he’d been betrayed.

Tiffany’s friend leaned in too, giving me a light, casual hug, as if to seal the deal: like subtly telling them: "yes, we came for him."

I cleared my throat dramatically, fighting a grin. “Ehen, guys. Make I officially introduce you.”

I gestured with both hands like an MC. “This is Tiffany—”

“—Angel Gabriel’s sister,” Baba T cut in, with a serious tone.

“And this,” I continued, ignoring him, “is her lovely friend…”

Kenny staggered forward like he wanted to shake hands but forgot how fingers worked. “Please, what’s her name? Even if it's a long one like Oluwaseunmibankemikemiprecious, I go memorize am!”

The girls laughed, their glow doubling. Tiffany rolled her eyes, still smiling. “Your friends are… interesting.”

“Interesting is polite,” Jude muttered under his breath.

I shrugged. “Well, what can I say? Some people pull weight, some pull beauty… and me? I pull both.”

They groaned in unison.

Tiffany gave me another side hug, her perfume wrapping around me. My friends? They were still staring, torn between admiration and sheer disbelief. The crowd around us had already moved on, but my boys… they’d never recover from this one.


“Darous,” Kenny whispered from behind, elbowing me in the process, “if na me, I no go even enter party again. Na to just follow her dey waka upandan for compound.”

“Keep quiet before I rent you out as security guard,” I fired back, but I couldn’t stop grinning.

We linked up right there by the entrance. Tiffany leaned in slightly. “So… G-Wagon, huh? I’m impressed.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at her GLE. “And you? Pulling up in Benz of your own? You wan oppress me?”

Her laughter was soft, musical. “No, we just like to keep up.”

Her friend winked at my guys, and instantly Baba T almost fainted again. “Darous, abeg swap me in na. One minute only!”

I ignored him before he completely with focus now shifted towards the event happening inside.


The moment we stepped inside the house, I froze for a second. My chest tightened—not out of fear, but from sheer disbelief. This doesn't look like the same place I had worked on a few days ago. No, this was something else entirely.

The polished marble floors gleamed so brightly they almost mirrored the chandeliers that now hung above. The walls I had renovated stood taller, grander, like they had been reborn under the glow of gold-tinted lights. Every corner smelled of wealth—fresh roses, fine wine, polished wood. Expensive art pieces I’d never seen before lined the hallways, each one probably worth more than the money I had been paid for the job.

The DJ stood behind a sleek black console, her headphones hanging loosely around her neck as her fingers worked the turntables like magic. The speakers throbbed with a perfect blend of Afrobeats and soft house rhythms, the kind of music that made people’s heads nod even if they weren’t on the dance floor. Smooth transitions, heavy bass, and just enough percussion to keep the atmosphere alive—it was clear this was no roadside DJ. This was someone who knew how to make wealth sound like music.


For a moment, it felt like Mrs. Adeoye had bought another house overnight. Everything screamed affluence, power, and untouchable class. And as I stood there in that brief seconds, taking it all in, one thought kept repeating in my head:

“This woman isn’t just rich. She’s something else entirely.”

The place smelt of wealth, I mean of people who didn’t check price tags before buying anything.

We moved through the crowd, but I kept looking around, scanning. I wanted to find her.

“Who you dey find like say dem thief your ATM card?” Jude asked, sipping from his glass of champagne.

“Mrs. Adeoye,” I muttered. “She invited me. I need to greet her before anything.”

We circled for a while, catching glimpses of familiar faces from TV and Tiktok, until suddenly—she appeared.

Mrs. Adeoye, glowing in a shimmering gold lace gown, gele rising like a crown, her presence slicing through the crowd. She spotted me and broke into a smile.

“Darous!” she called, her voice warm, almost motherly, but commanding enough that people turned to look.

I moved quickly, Tiffany and my guys in tow. “Good evening, ma.”

She held my hands with surprising firmness. “So this is the young man who built my wall. I told you you'll fit in perfectly here, didn’t I?”

“Yes ma,” I said, bowing my head slightly. “Though I still think a bricklayer like me doesn’t really fit here—”

She cut me off with laughter. “Nonsense! Your humility is your beauty, Darous. You fit here more than most of these people, trust me.”

I smiled.

She turned to the group behind me, her sharp eyes scanning each face. “And these must be your friends?”

“Yes ma,” I said quickly. “Very responsible people.”

“Responsible?” she repeated, amused.

"I interviewed them myself and they passed" I chipped in quickly.

Jude almost choked on his drink. Baba T grinned like a schoolboy. Kenny looked at the floor while the ladies just stood there scanning the whole space.

Mrs. Adeoye chuckled and gestured toward the hall. “ Alright then, come with me.”

She led us through the crowd with the grace of a queen. People greeted her with respect, nodding, whispering. Then she stopped at a long table reserved near the far side of the hall—right under the spotlight, and directly across from the wall I had renovated.

“Sit here,” she said, smiling proudly. “I wanted you close to what you built.”

I swallowed, overwhelmed for a second. The boys were already sinking into their seats, wide-eyed like they had just entered heaven.

Tiffany leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “Looks like you’re more important than you let on.”

And for the first time that night, I truly started to believe it.


We had just settled at the table when Tiffany leaned in with a sly smile.
“Oh, by the way,” she said, motioning to her friend beside her, “meet Toyosi.”

Toyosi gave a little wave, soft-spoken. “Hi.”

Before I could even respond, Kenny leaned forward, eyes bright. “Ah! So you are Toyosi? Thank God o, that's my mother's name. No wonder your face looked like my state of origin.”

Everyone burst out laughing. Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Please, ignore him. He’s obviously the class clown.”

Baba T slapped the table. “Class clown? Abeg, leave matter. Toyosi, tell me you’re single so I can scatter ground for you right now.”

The table shook with laughter. Even Jude cracked a rare smile.

“See your head,” I said, shaking mine. “Toyosi, don’t mind them. These guys don’t have sense. You’ll get used to it.”

Tiffany leaned back, smirking. “Used to it? As if she plans to see you again?”

“Ehn-ehn!” Kenny pointed dramatically. “Darous, you don hear? This fine babe no send us o!”

I grinned, unbothered. “She’ll change her mind. No woman meets me once and forgets me. It’s scientifically impossible.”

Toyosi laughed, covering her mouth. “You’re not serious.”

“Serious enough,” I said smoothly. “And just for the record, Toyosi, any friend of Tiffany’s is… well, in a dangerous territory. Because Tiffany herself has been pretending she doesn’t like me since the day we met.”

Tiffany smacked my arm. “See lies!”

“Ah!” Baba T shouted, pretending to stand. “Darous, no oppress us na. Allow the rest of us to breathe!”

The whole table erupted again. The mood was easy, full of jokes, full of life. For a moment, it felt like nothing could go wrong.

But then it did.

It started small.

A glass tipping over somewhere behind us. We turned, chuckled, thought it was nothing. But my ears caught it—something sharper hidden beneath. A metallic scrape, followed by a faint, muffled pop.

I froze.

“What is it?” Jude asked under his breath, noticing me go still.

My eyes darted around. Everyone else was still talking, still laughing. But I noticed:
– A waiter stopped mid-step, tray trembling.
– A woman at the far corner clutching her husband’s arm, eyes wide.
– The chandelier above swaying ever so slightly.
– A faint burnt smell, hidden under the perfume.

Then came the scream.

It tore the music apart. High, sharp, and terrifying.

All at once, chairs screeched, glasses smashed, people scrambled backward. A man collapsed near the far wall—adjacent the wall I had renovated. Blood spreading quickly beneath him.

“Jesus Christ!” Toyosi yelled. “Someone is dead!”

The music stopped cold. Panic rolled across the hall like fire on dry grass. Tiffany’s nails dug into my arm, Toyosi’s face had gone pale, Baba T was muttering prayers under his breath.

But I wasn’t panicking. My mind was working. Fast. Patterns. Details. Recording everything.

Mrs. Adeoye’s voice sliced through the chaos, firm but trembling at the edges. “Stay calm! Stay together—don’t let go of each other.” She guided us toward the newly renovated wall, and for a fleeting moment her eyes locked with mine. Behind the mask of courage she wore, I caught the flicker of real fear in those eyes.


Then the sirens came.

The doors flew open. And he walked in.

Tall. Plain clothes. No flashing badges. But the weight he carried made the whole room shift. His eyes were sharp, cold, sweeping across the hall like floodlights. The kind of eyes that didn’t miss anything.

“Clear the area!” his voice thundered. “Nobody leaves this building. Nobody!”

Silence. Heavy. Everyone froze. The laughter from before was gone, replaced by fear thick enough to choke on.

He moved straight to the body, gestured sharply, and officers started locking down the hall.

Inspector Kalu. The kind of man people whispered about. The kind who had been chasing shadows for ten years. And now, fate had handed him a bloody mess.

They began taking witness accounts. One by one. Guests. Staff. No one was spared.

Me? I leaned toward my friends, speaking in low tone.

“You guys didn’t hear it? The sound before the scream? After the flicker, the exit door clicked shut. Whoever left… was limping. Left leg.”


Then I felt a tap on my shoulders.

I turned.

Inspector Kalu was standing right behind me, eyes drilling into mine.

“Say that again,” he said, calm but sharp as a blade.

The table went silent. My friends stared at me like I had just walked into my own grave.

And I realized too late… my mouth had betrayed me.


To be continued

Happy Sunday guys. This Episode 10 will determine if I continue posting here or not. Which is why I'm worked my a$$ off to make sure I drop this today so as to give you guys enough time to react to it.

If the reactions are still not encouraging, I'll move my story to my page on Facebook.

Read and Enjoy.






Episode 10 — The Party And The Prestige.

The next morning, I dropped a bomb in our WhatsApp group, “The Syndicate of Boys”—that’s Baba T, Kenny, Jude, and me.

“Listen carefully, gentlemen. 4 pm sharp. We’re meeting at our usual spot. Dress like you’re going for a visa interview.”

As expected, the group lit up with laughing emojis. To them, it was just another one of my random jokes. But this time, I wasn’t joking.

Mrs. Adeoye had invited me to her party and insisted I bring responsible friends. Before I even think of dragging these clowns along, I need to confirm if they can at least look like human beings for once.

By four we were at our usual spot. I said the treat was on me, so bottles of malt, Heineken, Trophy and a bowl of assorted ponmo sat on the table.

I folded my hands like I was about to run a serious meeting.

“Gentlemen,” I announced in my most presidential tone, “this weekend we have a party.”

“Which one? Your mama born another child?” Kenny shot back, half joking.

“Or SportyBet finally blessed you?” Baba T added, grinning.

“Shut up,” I said, acting annoyed so they’d stop. It worked for about three seconds. Then I leaned in. “Listen. This is not small. This one is crème de la crème — the kind of party they put on magazine covers. The host asked me to bring responsible friends. That means I must interview every one of you to make sure you can atleast behave like you have sense for the few hours we will be there. I know it's not going to be easy for you guys to behave like proper human beings so that's why I want to interview you now... okay?”

Baba T snorted his malt out his nose. “Interview? Are we collecting visas now?”

“Yes.” I kept my face straight. “This one pass embassy. If you disgrace me, I’ll deport you from my life. No appeal. So sit up and behave.”

They all froze — the laughing emojis in their heads paused. For once, they looked like they actually believed me.


They adjusted quickly when they saw my face wasn’t smiling. So when I called Jude forward for his interview, he didn’t argue. He marched forward immediately.

“Jude,” I said, putting on my most serious face. “At this party, an elderly man in agbada approaches you. How will you greet him?”

Jude cleared his throat, straightened his shirt, and bent so low I thought he wanted to sweep the floor with his forehead.
“Good evening sir, you’re looking so magnificent tonight. May I hold your cap for you?”

We all burst into laughter.

“Idiot!” I barked between tears. “You wan hold his cap? Do you know how much one fila costs? If breeze blow it away, na your life dem go sell to buy another one. Sit down before I slap sense into your black head, werey dudu!”

Next was Baba T. He rubbed his round belly proudly as if it was an achievement.

“Okay Baba T,” I folded my arms. “Picture this: a classy woman in lace, dripping in gold, smelling like mint fresh from CBN. She stops you and says, ‘Excuse me, young man, where’s the restroom?’ What will you say?”

Baba T grinned like JAMB student seeing expo.
“Aunty, abeg o. Your gele fine pass indomie super pack. You too set! If you like, no use restroom again, just smile for me and I’ll be okay.”

Kenny rolled on the bench, wheezing. I dragged my palm down my face.
“Jesus Christ of Nazareth. Baba T, if you open your mouth like that, security won’t only escort us out — they will use dog to chase us and send us to life imprisonment based on charges that we are not fit enough to live among humans....” I managed to maintain a straight face while saying that.

Finally, it was Kenny’s turn.

“Kenny,” I said. “They serve you champagne. How do you handle it?”

Kenny straightened his collar like James Bond. “First, I’ll swirl the glass gently… smell it… then I’ll nod and say, ‘Ah yes… vintage.’”

Silence. Then the whole joint exploded.

“Vintage?!” Jude screamed, choking. “You wey small stout na the most expensive thing wey you don take all your life! The last time you drank Baron, you dey ask if na Zobo mixed with sniper! See this mumu forming vintage!”

“Abeg shut up,” Kenny fired back. “Na you dey buy palm wine in pure water sachet!”

“See whyning!” Baba T jumped in, slapping the table like referee. In five seconds, it almost turned into a typical intense football argument among rival fans.

I raised my hand like Moses parting Red Sea. “Enough! Truth is, I don’t have a choice. The woman said ‘responsible friends,’ and unfortunately, you clowns are all I’ve got. So whether I like it or not, we’re all going.”

Baba T sat back and patted his belly. “Now you are talking.”

“But listen,” I said, leaning forward. “We can’t pull up looking like street rats. We must level up. We must look like Merry Men.”

Jude’s eyes sparkled. “Abi! So what’s the plan?”

I cleared my throat dramatically. “We… are renting a G-Wagon.”

“Whaaaaaat?!” they chorused so loud the other customers took turns looking at us.

“You heard me,” I said. “We can’t show up looking like loan defaulters. Like say we dey owe palmpay... No! We must look like we own the bank.”

Baba T’s belly nearly deflated. “Darous, do you know how much they are renting G-Wagon? Even the tyre fit pay rent for two years!”

“I heard it’s 400k per day,” Kenny added, eyes wide.

“That one na if you carry am since morning. If na afternoon pickup, e go come back to 300k,” Jude said like a car rental consultant.

I waved them off. “Even if it’s 400k, I’ll sort it.”

Kenny almost fainted. “FOUR WHAT?! Darous, you don lose your sense? Four hundred thousand for car wey no get wings? For that money, I fit buy okada, do Uber, buy land, send my mama go Mecca, still remain change to start small business for her when she comes back!”

I smirked, leaning back like movie villain. “Relax. When we step out of that G-Wagon, women go faint like candle light wey meet breeze. Trust me. Just make sure your suits are sharp. Because we are not — I repeat — we are NOT entering that event in danfo.”

SmartestPopQUEEN:
The man with the magic pen is back at it again. Sorry I've been away for a little while. Work, stress and family. But I gat you my dear. Continue soaring higher. You are loved. 😍

my own sweet madam. Thanks for dropping by. 🙏

dawno2008:
Though short,but always interesting to read,and don't you think Darous is letting out too much to Jude ,cos no one is clean yet,
As always thanks for the hot tips and sweet pick up lines, it's mature and savvy,just like same Darous I use to know
Thanks TBM,more blood to ya fingers



Baba TBM,you being dey sleep when man u,Chelsea, Liverpool and real Madrid collect wotoporously to day na bad day for many of us fans

Ah no kuku sleep oooo😂😂😂 I just say make I let sleeping dogs lie ni abi how dem dey talk am.

Anyways about Darous.. let's see if the werey don learn one or two from experience na.... 😂😂

Abdulreheem:
Welcome back darusmart son of god of songo
I can still remember how u kept me glued and refreshing literature section of nairaland everyday back then just to read ur interesting write up then
Welcome back once again .
Trust me ur last part “the dog attendant” was such a master piece but life happen .
With the beginning of this one im already hooked up
Am still ur loyal fans .


More ink to ur elbow .

I appreciate your comment my bro... Thanks for staying glued.

drewbar:
Pls stay here. We appreciate you

all depends on you oooo

Dedicated to my own blood sister. Eniola Idowu on the occasion of her birthday. Happy birthday love. Many happy returns of this day. Much love from big bro...

Episode 9 — Nights and new doors.


The next day, I was still on my bed, fingers glued to EA Sports on my phone when Chuka’s name flashed across the screen.

“Send me your crypto wallet address,” he barked. No “hello,” no “how far.” Just raw command, Abacha style. Before I could even respond, he ended the call line.

I shrugged, typed out my Ethereum address, hit the send icon and went back to my game. Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with a Binance notification.

Ξ2.46 ETH.

Roughly two million naira.

I froze. My thumb hovered in the air like it wasn’t mine anymore. Then I burst out laughing, rolling on the bed.

“For just spying on a vault?” I muttered, shaking my head. “No wonder Bola dey wear gold chain anyhow.”

The Circle was beginning to make sense. Dangerous, yes. But maybe worth it.

Chuka followed up with a short text:
“Keep this up. You’ll be at the top before you know it.”

Later that evening, I called Jude — the only one among us who knew about the Circle.

“Guy, you won’t believe what just hit my account,” I said, grinning to myself like a fool.

“Talk joor... Ogbeni or gerraaah here,” Jude replied.

I told him everything — the mission, the fight, the vault, and now the money.

He whistled long and hard. “Darous… two million for that small stunt? That’s not a reward o, that’s plain blood money if you want to hear the truth. No one pays that much for doing that simple thing you said you did. You sef think am na...”

I laughed. “Blood money? Dey play ...Guy, you weren’t there. That mission almost killed me. One wrong move, and they’d be peeling my body off the floor.”

Jude went quiet for a bit, then I heard him drop a deep sigh over the phone. “Just be careful, my guy. I don’t like this thing. This life will eat you raw if you don’t shine your eyes wella.”

I leaned back on my pillow, smiling. “Relax. I’ve got a plan. Here's the plan. I’ll use the Circle... I swear, then stack my money, build myself a state of the art construction empire. And omo once I’m set, nobody , and I mean nobody — not even the Circle — can touch me. Na me talk am...”

“Hmm. Just remember what I said. Watch yourself,” he warned.

We ended the call, and later that day I took a Uber down to a resort center across town. Just to be able to watch the Athletico versus Real Madrid match in a very comfortable space. And that was when I saw her. Tiffany.... Ah, that girl eh... I will definitely give you a very nice gist about her later.. I promise... But not now. Maybe as the story unfolds sha. I'll tell you. But right now let me first start with this little gist about how I approached someone that's kind of way above my own league but because of my smartness and use of words, I was able to woo her to my side. Here's how it went down.

She was sitting by the poolside, laughing softly into her phone. A cream sundress floated around her, simple yet flawless. No loud jewelry, no heavy makeup. Just skin that looked like butter and eyes sharp enough to make a man forget his own name.

The kind of eyes that, if a pilot made the mistake of looking down from 30,000 feet, The country would be thrown into three days of compulsory mourning—because the poor man would have lost total control of the plane.
Her laughter? My guy, forget it. She wasn’t trying too hard, and that was the problem. She didn’t even know she was holding the world hostage by just existing.


For a moment, I just stared. My brain whispered only one thing: This polling unit must be mine. In simpler un-voting terms, I must have this one.

I chuckled, downed the last sip of my Mojito cocktail, and stood up. Shoulders back, chin up, casual swagger. The kind of walk that said: I’m not trying too hard, but I know you’ll notice me.

As I closed the gap between us, I rehearsed in my head on how to start a conversation with her without sounding too desperate.

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice calm but firm. She looked up, phone still pressed to her ear.

One brow arched. “Yes?” She said. Her voice came out soft and abrupt.

I smiled. “I don’t mean to disturb your call. But I swear the bartender made a mistake.”

She frowned slightly. “Mistake?”

“Yes,” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “He was supposed to serve the most beautiful woman here this cocktail, but somehow, he brought it to me instead.”

For a second, she just stared, then chuckled, shaking her head. “You really practiced that line in the mirror, didn’t you?”

I grinned wider. “Honestly? No. If I had practiced, I would’ve added some music and fireworks to it.”

She laughed softly.

And just like that, Tiffany gave me her full attention.


“You know I was actually about to grab a seat, but I saw you sitting here all alone and thought—either you’re waiting for someone, or I just got lucky today.”

Tiffany laughs a little, glancing up at me again.
“Well… maybe you’re lucky. I’m not waiting for anyone.”

I smiled in a relaxed way.
“Perfect. That means I won’t be stealing anyone’s seat. Mind if I sit for a bit?”


“Sure, go ahead.” she replied with a hand gesture towards the chair opposite hers.

I pulled out the chair and sat down, keeping my tone light.


“Thanks. I should introduce myself properly before you think I’m some random guy disturbing your peace. I’m Darous. And you are…?”


“I’m Tiffany.” She replied with a faint smile.

“Nice. You actually look like a Tiffany… but not the type that gets into trouble. More like the type that makes people wonder, ‘How does she stay this calm while there’s war going on all over the world’”


“Wow, that’s a very specific description. You talk like you know me already.” She pretend to be shocked.


“Maybe I do. Or maybe I’m just good at reading people. For example… let me guess—you’re either a coffee addict or an ice cream lover. Which one?”

Tiffany laughs, while shaking her head.
“Definitely ice cream.”

I grin, and pointed at her drink.
“Knew it. You’ve got that ‘sweet tooth but innocent face vibe. That's a dangerous combination.”

“Haha, you’re funny.” she laughed hard.


“Funny is just my cover. I’m actually here trying to figure out why someone like you is sitting all alone. You don’t look like the type that should be left alone in public—you might cause accidents with all the stares.”


“Oh please, stop flattering me.”


“Who said it’s flattery? That was an observation. Trust me, I wouldn’t risk embarrassing myself with a bad pickup line.”

Tiffany narrowed her eyes but in a playful way.
“Hmm, okay oooo.”


““So, Tiffany, tell me—what kind of days do you like best? The noisy, crowded ones where you’re stuck separating two colleagues from throwing punches, or calm, quiet ones like this?”

“Calm and quiet, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Those noisy days give me headaches. And the last time I tried breaking up a fight, one of them shoved me so hard I ended up on the floor. Since then, I swore never to play referee again.” She gave a fake groan and shook her head.

I laughed. “No wonder you picked this spot—to recharge. Smart move. Most people don’t even know how to enjoy their own company. They’ll smoke weed for hours and then step it down with chinchin like it’s normal. Tell me that’s not madness.”

“That’s true, I guess.”


“You’re definitely interesting. And trust me, I don’t say that to everyone I meet. Now, if I wanted to continue this conversation another time, what’s the best way to reach you? Text, call, or do I have to bribe the eatery staff to reserve your favorite table for you?”


“Text is fine. It's cool...”

I smiled, then pull out my phone immediately.

“Text it is then. Let me save your number before you change your mind.”


“Who said I won’t?” She smiled teasingly.

And just like that, Tiffany and I went from two strangers at a resort to partners-in-laughter, trading inside jokes like we’d known each other since primary school. Her vibe was effortless, her laughter too real—and for the first time in forever, I forgot the world outside even existed.

She glanced at her phone, still smiling. “Okay, Darous… text me later. I need to confirm if you’re really this nice or if it’s just the cocktail talking.”

I grinned. “let me give you a fair warning my lady..." I leaned over the table so our eyes are now closer. " My texts come with the same side effects as hanging out with me: plenty of laughter and small trouble.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “We’ll see about that.”

After almost an hour of pure vibes and gist, we finally said our goodbyes—me walking away with her number saved and a smile that refused to leave my face.


I got home that evening still floating—money sitting heavy in my wallet, Tiffany’s number saved on my phone. Honestly, I couldn’t tell which one excited me more.

To crown the day, I cooked myself a proper victory meal: rice and spaghetti with fried turkey meat on top. It took almost an hour to prepare, but I sat down like a king and started devouring it with pride.

Halfway through, my phone buzzed. Mrs. Adeoye.

“Darous! You’re invited to my party this weekend!” she declared the moment I picked up.

“M…ma?” I choked, blinking at the turkey leg in my hand. I hadn’t even expected her to call again, let alone hear her inviting me to a party. This was a woman who could snap her fingers and have engineers lining up to do her renovation—yet she’d chosen me. And now, she was dragging me into a gathering of society’s crème de la crème?

“Yes,” she repeated, no room for doubt. “Since you were so confident about the wall you renovated, it’s only proper you attend. Bring along responsible friends too, if you have any.”

I gave a nervous laugh. “Madam, me? A bricklayer? At your kind of event? I don’t think…”

She cut me off sharply but with warmth in her tone. “I admire your humility, Darous. But let’s be clear—you will be there. Your presence is as important as everyone else’s.”

I sighed, knowing resistance was useless. “Alright, madam. If you say so.”

Her laughter rang out through the phone. “Good. I like that you listen. See you this weekend.”

“She hung up, and I just sat there staring at my food. Yesterday, I was sweating over wires in a vault, fighting a man twice my size just to escape. Now, less than twenty-four hours later, a rich society woman was inviting me to her party.
Life was starting to feel like a movie. For the first time, I didn’t know if I was really living or just surviving near-death games, like those characters in Alice in Borderland.

To be continued.

Next update? E go drop when I see enough reactions to match the views. 😏 Not flexing o, but reactions are like fuel—na wetin we writers chop to keep going. That’s how I dey unlock the rawest part of myself into COUNTLESS. So abeg, no dull me… keep the vibes coming! 🚀🔥
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Update dropping this Saturday.

But after this episode 9, if I don't see improvements in the reactions... I might as well move everything to my Facebook page o... And it will only be accessible to those that have been showing reactions since the first episode. To be forewarned is to be forearmed.

dawno2008:
Baba TBM,how far nau,I just checked in and see say every where silent, wetin dey sup nau abi maresca still dey cry from man u defeat? I even hear say the dragon abi na lean Lion wey dey Chelsea logo don lost

And about your observation on Nairaland literature section, truly it has lost that old spark,but you can't blame the writers,cos the site owner who's making so much from other people's intellectual products,seem to care only about himself,no incentive or any form of support,and just like you,many of them write for free audience.

Abeg jor, enough of all this yeye gist,abeg drop story nau,I don miss Darous and him actions,and truly wetin Chuka talk na true,how did Darous miss that evil lady,he allow smile lead am astray
It's all good,I hope you're good anyways,I miss you baba

Honestly, if not for people like you who keep asking me every day when I’ll write again, I wouldn’t have bothered at all. People think it’s easy to sit down and put words together, to make everything flow — especially when you know you won’t even get paid for it. It’s not fair that the owner of this site can’t even come up with a small package to appreciate writers. But it’s fine, nothing spoil. We keep moving. One love, my brother. Thank you for always staying loyal.