The sleek black sedan glided through the iron-wrought gates of Verdant City’s elite district, eventually pulling up before a sprawling, monolithic villa.
Ethan Lyle stepped out, taking a moment to simply breathe. The difference between this place and The Hollow was night and day. He’d stopped at a public restroom on the way in, only to find it smelled better than the most expensive restaurants in the slums. So this is what money buys, he thought, a bitter edge to his wonder. Even the air in the rich part of town is curated.
As they crossed the threshold of The Ji Estate, it became clear that Kieran Ji had spared no effort in his "hospitality." Two rows of impeccably dressed maids stood in the foyer, their heads bowing in perfect unison as Ethan entered.
"Good evening, Mr. Lyle," they chimed.
The maid uniforms were… daring. As they leaned forward in their deep bows, Ethan found himself staring at a panoramic view he hadn't asked for. His eyes widened, his mind racing. Is this it? Is this the ‘joy’ of the ultra-rich? Damn them all.
Before the awakening, he’d been a nobody. After his transmigration, he’d been a starving wretch rotting in The Hollow. If not for the Undying Constitution, he’d have been a corpse in a gutter weeks ago. And all that time, while he was eating scraps and dodging death, Kieran was lounging in a palace surrounded by this?
He shot Kieran a look of pure, unadulterated envy. If he’d transmigrated as a trust-fund brat, he wouldn’t have had to break his back just to survive.
"Do you like them, Boss?" Kieran leaned in, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "See anyone you fancy? Just say the word."
Ethan scanned the row, then pointed. "That one, that one, and that one."
Kieran blinked, looking slightly impressed. "Only three? You’re more restrained than I thought."
"No," Ethan corrected him, his face deadpan. "I mean I don't want those three. Send all the others to my room."
Kieran: "..."
Ethan let the silence hang for a beat before snorting. "Relax, I’m messing with you. Just give me a bed and some peace."
Kieran let out a breath, clearly surprised Ethan had resisted the temptation. He led Ethan further into the heart of the estate, where they encountered the patriarch of the house. Mr. Ji looked like an ordinary, slightly balding middle-aged man, but the razor-sharp glint of a predator in his eyes told a different story. This was a man who didn't just earn money; he hunted it.
Eventually, Ethan was shown to his quarters. He collapsed onto a three-meter-wide bed that felt like sleeping on a cloud. He’d taken refuge in the heart of the Ji family’s power. Surely, not even Kensen would be brazen enough to kick down these doors.
With that comforting thought, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
He was blissfully unaware that outside these walls, the underbelly of Verdant City was screaming. Kensen was mobilizing every asset, every blade, and every informant he owned. The city’s underground was a powder keg, and Kensen was holding the match.
The next morning, Ethan’s eyes fluttered open to a sight he wasn't prepared for. A young woman was kneeling by his bedside, delicately tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a gentle smile.
"You’re awake, Mr. Lyle. Please, allow me."
She held out a steaming, perfectly scented towel. Ethan stared at it, then promptly slapped himself across the face.
Still dreaming. Has to be.
Years in The Hollow had conditioned him to wake up clutching a rusted pipe, not waiting for a hot towel and a smile.
"Mr. Lyle! Are you alright? A nightmare?" The maid gasped, rushing forward to catch his hand before he could strike himself again.
Dazed, Ethan allowed his face to be wiped. When two more maids appeared, toothbrushes and water basins in hand, he finally snapped out of it.
"Enough! I can brush my own damn teeth!" He scrambled toward the bathroom, heart hammering against his ribs.
Kieran was waiting for him in the hall when he finally emerged. "Morning, Boss. Sleep well?"
"I’ve had worse," Ethan muttered, still feeling haunted by the excess.
"Glad to hear it. Come on, breakfast is served."
The dining room was a theater of the absurd. Only two chairs were occupied—Ethan’s and Kieran’s—but the table groaned under the weight of twenty-four different dishes. Eight maids stood at the ready.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ji, Mr. Lyle," they chorused.
Kieran sat down with the practiced ease of royalty. Immediately, a maid stepped forward, offering him a bowl of soup at the perfect temperature to "awaken the palate."
Kieran took a sip, and another maid stepped in. She held a large prawn, expertly shelled and deveined, to his lips. Kieran took a single bite—the choice center cut—and the rest of the prawn was discarded. Next came a quartet of cherries, two red and two green, held out on a silver skewer.
Ethan watched, paralyzed, as two more maids flanked Kieran, one feeding him crab meat and the other morsels of lobster. It was a conveyor belt of luxury.
Back on Earth, the rich were decadent, but this was something else entirely. In a world where the Awakened held the power of gods, the Unawakened had been relegated to little more than high-end furniture.
"Boss? You okay? Is the food not to your liking?" Kieran asked, noticing Ethan hadn't moved. "I can have the chef start over."
"No, the food is fine," Ethan said, finding his voice. "I just haven't seen someone eat like a toddler with a billion-dollar budget before."
Kieran burst out laughing. "You’ll get used to it! I pay them, they serve me. It’s the natural order of things."
Once the feast concluded, Kieran clapped his hands. A fresh line of maids entered, each carrying a silver tray holding a piece of a high-end tuxedo—silk shirt, tailored trousers, a designer tie.
"What’s this?" Ethan asked, narrowing his eyes.
"The maids will help you change, Boss. Tonight is the annual Auction Gala. Every major player in Verdant City will be there."
It was a move orchestrated by Kieran’s father. If Kieran was going to tie himself to this mysterious Ethan Lyle, he needed to do it publicly. By presenting Ethan as his "Boss" to the city's elite, he was staking his reputation on the man. If Ethan ever became a titan, the Ji family would be the ones who stood by him first.
"A gala? Pass," Ethan said, turning away. "I’m staying here until The Grand Trial starts."
He headed for the restroom, needing to relieve himself. He pushed open the door and froze.
Four maids were standing inside. One held dry tissues, one held wet wipes, and two stood with their hands folded, waiting.
"Welcome, Mr. Lyle," they said in unison. "We are here to assist with your business."
Ethan’s face went pale, then dark. He turned on his heel and bolted out of the room, his urge to pee suddenly vanishing in a wave of sheer terror.
"Boss? What's wrong?" Kieran asked, confused.
"Nothing," Ethan hissed, his voice tight. "Change of plans. We’re going to that gala."
He didn't care about the auction. He just needed to be in a building where he could take a piss without an audience.
"Fantastic!" Kieran beamed. "You won't regret it. There’s going to be top-tier gear, rare skill books—stuff the public never even hears about."
Ethan paused. "Gear and skills?"
"Yeah. The elite of Verdant City always hold a private auction before The Grand Trial. It’s where the real power is traded."
Ethan went quiet. In his old life, he wasn't even "middle class"—he was the dirt under the middle class’s fingernails. The idea of an exclusive world of power-ups was intriguing, even if he had no intention of wearing the monkey suit Kieran had picked out.
Evening fell, and Mr. Ji led the way as they arrived at The Cloudrise Hotel, the most exclusive venue in the city. The curbside was a graveyard of supercars. Security guards, who usually acted like kings, bowed low the moment they saw the Vance Corporation logo on their vehicle.
They took the private elevator to the penthouse. The doors opened to a sprawling ballroom filled with the scent of expensive cologne and rare delicacies. The room was packed with the heavy hitters: corporate titans, high-ranking Awakened, and political shakers.
Mr. Ji immediately peeled off to join a circle of grey-haired men.
"Old timers over there, the 'young elite' over here," Kieran said, gesturing toward a cluster of flashy twenty-somethings. "Come on, I'll introduce you."
"Do your thing," Ethan said, his eyes already locked on the buffet. "Don't worry about me."
He hadn't actually eaten much at lunch due to the "feeding" spectacle, and he was starving. Ignoring the stares of the socialites in their custom-tailored gowns and suits, Ethan—still in his tactical street gear—walked up to the buffet and began to demolish a pile of lobster tails.
His presence was like a stain on a white silk sheet. People began to whisper, casting disgusted glances at the "hungry ghost" ruining the atmosphere. Kieran’s face turned three shades of red.
"Boss… maybe we eat later? Let me introduce you to the guys first?"
"I’m busy," Ethan mumbled through a mouthful of seafood.
"Boss, please. I’ll buy you whatever you want later. Just… put down the crab leg."
Kieran reached out to grab Ethan’s arm, trying to pull him away. Ethan’s eyes sharpened, a cold pressure radiating from his frame.
"Forbidden Incantation..."
Kieran froze, the blood draining from his face. He forced a strained, awkward smile and backed away slowly.
"Right. Got it. You… you keep eating, Boss. Enjoy."
Kieran retreated, wanting to bury his head in his hands. He’d brought Ethan here to build his legend, but the man was acting like he’d just escaped a famine. If he told his friends this was his "Boss," he’d be the laughingstock of the city for a decade.
Ethan, finally left in peace, went back to his dinner. He didn't give a damn what these peacocks thought. In his world, a full stomach beat a fancy suit every time.
"Ethan Lyle?"
A cold, familiar voice drifted from behind him. Ethan, mid-chew on a piece of lobster, turned around.
Nira Ashford stood there, her expression a mix of shock and pure vitriol. Beside her was a shorter girl in a flowing white dress—Violet Liu. Violet was petite, but her beauty was sharp enough to rival Nira’s.
"It really is you," Nira hissed, her lip curling in disgust. "I should have known. Did you sneak in here for the free food?"
Ethan sighed, his mood souring. He couldn't go anywhere in this city without running into this delusional woman. But he supposed it made sense—as the daughter of Lord Ashford, she was basically the queen of this gala.
"Nira, who is he?" Violet asked, looking between them with genuine curiosity. She’d never seen Nira look this genuinely repulsed by a man before.
"Who is he? He’s a coward, that’s who," Nira snapped. "Violet, remember that 'Ashveil' I told you about? The one with the Karmic Flame who saved me?"
Violet nodded. "The one who one-shotted a Level 8 monster on his first night in the Rift? Hard to forget."
"Before I found Ashveil, I ran into this creature," Nira said, pointing a manicured finger at Ethan. "He’s not weak, but he’s gutless. If he had helped me fight that Dragonblood Colossus, I wouldn't have been pushed to the brink of death. But the moment things got dangerous, he tucked tail and ran! He left me to die."
Ethan didn't even look at her. He just picked up another shrimp.
"Wait," Violet said, tilting her head. "But... isn't avoiding a Level 8 monster just common sense for a new Initiate? He’s a coward, sure, but you seem really angry about it."
"Violet Liu!" Nira barked. "Whose side are you on?"
"Yours, obviously!" Violet chirped, holding up her hands.
"If it wasn't for his cowardice, I wouldn't have been so pathetic when Ashveil arrived," Nira continued, her voice trembling with frustration. "Ashveil saw me at my worst—as a burden. Because of that, he disappeared, and I haven't been able to find a single lead on him since! You tell me if I have a right to be angry!"
"Okay, okay, I get it. He ruined your 'meet-cute' with your hero. That is pretty annoying." Violet started gently pushing Nira away. "Let’s just go. He’s not worth the energy. Out of sight, out of mind."
Nira allowed herself to be led away, but not before throwing one last murderous glare over her shoulder.
Ethan watched them go, a dark, amused smirk playing on his lips. So, his "Ashveil" persona had left that much of an impression?
He almost wanted to see the look on her face when she realized the "hero" she was obsessed with was the same "coward" currently double-fisting lobster tails at the buffet.
Almost.