Helena and Vincent strolled through the mall like royalty touring their kingdom, leaving a trail of shopping bags and envious stares in their wake. The mall's VIP service had provided them with a small army of staff members carrying their purchases, creating what looked like a very fashionable parade.
Soon they entered the luxury clothing store hand in hand, their entrance causing the sales staff to practically salivate with commission-hungry anticipation.
Two eager employees, a man and woman who looked like they'd stepped out of a retail training manual, approached with practiced professional smiles.
"Hello sir, ma'am, welcome to Goojji. How may we assist you today?"
Vincent's eye twitched slightly. Goojji? Really? First Desla, now this knockoff of Gucci. This world's brand names read like they'd been filtered through a cheap translation app and then mangled by someone who'd never seen the original.
Helena had already begun browsing, listening intently as the staff launched into their well-rehearsed product descriptions. Vincent was just starting to relax when his phone chimed with a message from David: New property registered under Jin Ashera's name. Location: Your current shopping mall.
Before Vincent could fully process this information, a voice boomed across the store like a foghorn of entitlement.
"Does this establishment just allow any street trash to wander in?"
The speaker was a man who looked like he'd been inflated with hot air and bad decisions—round, red-faced, and radiating the kind of arrogance that only comes from inherited wealth and zero self-awareness. Clinging to his arm like expensive jewelry was a woman whose makeup appeared to have been applied with a trowel.
"Seriously, Jin, you haven't evolved one bit since college," she sneered, her voice dripping with the particular venom that only comes from shared history. "Still the same pathetic loser we all remember from class."
Helena gasped in recognition. "Wait, is that actually him? What's he doing here?"
Jin's eyes immediately locked onto Helena like a heat-seeking missile. "Well, well, beautiful lady, fancy meeting you again," he said with that same infuriating smirk that made Vincent want to introduce his face to the nearest wall.
Vincent's expression darkened as the pieces clicked into place. Of course. The classic face-slapping scenario. Jin owns this store now, and he's about to humiliate his former classmates while putting on a show. The sales staff looked like deer caught in headlights, frantically trying to figure out which customer they should be sucking up to.
Vincent's mind raced through his options. He hadn't planned for this particular brand of protagonist nonsense, and now it was too late for elaborate schemes. Then inspiration struck, and he opened his system store with the focus of a man ordering pizza at 2 AM.
[PURCHASE CONFIRMED]
Intestinal Rebellion Elixir - 300 VP
[VP: 730 → 430]
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Elixir materialization in progress...
Warning: Consumption will trigger reaction within three to five minutes
Estimated duration: 1 hours
Vincent spotted a teenage intern who looked like she was two seconds away from a panic attack and beckoned her over. She had that doe-eyed, fresh-faced look of someone who'd probably never seen drama more intense than a MeTube comment section.
"Bring me a glass of water, and be discreet about it," he whispered.
The girl blinked owlishly, clearly confused but too nervous to question a well-dressed customer. She nodded with the enthusiasm of a bobblehead in an earthquake and scurried away on legs that seemed slightly too long for her body, like a newborn deer learning to walk.
The intern returned with a full glass of water, her hands trembling so much the water nearly sloshed over the rim. Vincent took a sip, then discretely emptied half the elixir bottle into the glass. Better safe than sorry, he reasoned, though he probably should have read the fine print.
"Take this to that young man over there. Act natural," Vincent instructed, producing a thick bundle of cash that made the girl's eyes widen like saucers.
"I-I don't know about this, sir..." she stammered, her voice pitched so high it could probably summon dolphins.
"Relax, it's not poison. Vincent Cornelius, Cornelius Corporation—you know the name, right? Here's 50,000 Rubi for five minutes of your time."
The combination of money and the Cornelius name hit the girl like a one-two punch. She grabbed the cash and the glass with newfound determination, her transformation from nervous intern to secret agent so rapid it was almost cartoonish. She marched toward the escalating confrontation with the purposeful stride of someone who'd just discovered she could afford her college tuition.
The argument had now moved to center stage, with Jin facing off against the sneering staff while spectators gathered outside the glass-walled store like it was dinner and a show.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," said an older staff member with the kind of fake politeness that could cut glass.
Jin's chest puffed out like a peacock preparing for battle. "Are you absolutely certain you want to make that decision?"
A female employee let out a derisive laugh. "Oh please, drop the act. We all know you're just some taxi driver playing dress-up. If you can afford even a handkerchief from this store, I'll get on my knees and grovel like a medieval peasant."
The crowd murmured their agreement, nodding along like a Greek chorus of retail judgment.
Just then, the intern approached Jin with the water glass, her head bowed so low she looked like she was searching for dropped change.
"Sir, please have some water," she offered in a voice barely above a whisper.
Jin's demeanor immediately shifted to what he probably thought was charming but came across more like a used car salesman eyeing a mark. "Look up, let me see that pretty face."
The girl slowly raised her head, trying her best to look innocent despite the fact that she was essentially a well-paid accomplice in whatever Vincent had planned.
Jin nodded approvingly and downed the entire glass in one gulp, like he was accepting a challenge rather than a beverage.
"Excellent. Very good," he announced with the authority of someone who'd clearly watched too many CEO movies. "Effective immediately, everyone in this store is fired—except you, sweetheart."
The silence that followed lasted exactly 2.3 seconds before the entire crowd erupted in laughter.
"HAHAHA! If you can actually fire me, I'll bark like a dog and fetch your newspaper!" wheezed the first employee, clutching his sides.
"Oh honey, no," gasped a middle-aged woman with perfectly coiffed hair, dabbing tears from her eyes. "Sweetie, you can't just walk into Goojji and pretend you own the place. That's like me claiming I'm the Queen of Bingland because I watched The Crown!"
"Poor young man," sighed an elderly spectator, shaking his head with the wisdom of someone who'd seen plenty of public meltdowns. "Anger has clearly scrambled his brains like Sunday morning eggs."
"Dude, go back to your taxi!" shouted a teenager with his phone out, already composing what would surely become a viral TikTok. "Maybe in your next life you'll be able to afford a sock from this place!"
"Wait, wait," interrupted a man in a business suit, adjusting his glasses theatrically. "Did he just say he's firing people? What's next, is he going to declare himself Emperor of the Mall Food Court?"
A group of college girls near the back started a slow clap. "Bravo! Encore! Do you do children's birthday parties too?"
"I've seen better acting in toothpaste commercials," snorted a woman loaded down with shopping bags. "At least those people get paid to be ridiculous."
The women in the crowd looked at Jin with the kind of disgust usually reserved for expired milk, whispering among themselves about the audacity of poorly dressed men with delusions of grandeur.
"Is this performance art?" asked a confused art student. "Because if so, it's brilliant commentary on toxic masculinity and economic inequality."
"No, dear," replied her friend, patting her shoulder. "This is just regular toxic masculinity. No commentary required."
Through it all, Jin stood completely unfazed, like he was immune to ridicule or possibly just dead inside. He'd mastered the art of protagonist confidence—the kind that comes from knowing the universe is contractually obligated to make you look good eventually.
Vincent gently took Helena's hand and guided her out of the store, positioning them at the perfect viewing spot by the glass wall.
"Why are we leaving? I wanted to see how this train wreck ends!" Helena protested, clearly invested in the drama.
"Safety first," Vincent replied smoothly. "Plus, this angle gives us the perfect view for whatever's about to happen." And I spent 300 VP on this show, so we're definitely staying for the finale.
Vincent watched through the glass with the satisfaction of a chess master who'd just moved his queen into position. Every element of his plan was falling into place with mathematical precision. The timing on the elixir was perfect—three to five minutes, and Jin had downed it approximately four minutes ago. Any second now...
Helena pressed closer to the glass, her breath fogging the surface as she watched the spectacle unfold. "Vincent, why do you look so... calm? Like you're watching a movie you've already seen?"
Vincent's smile was enigmatic. "Sometimes the best entertainment is when you know exactly how it's going to end."
She turned to study his profile, noting the way his eyes held a predatory gleam. A memory flickered—Vincent approaching that nervous intern, the whispered conversation, the thick bundle of cash. Her stomach did a small flip as puzzle pieces began arranging themselves in her mind.
"You didn't..." she started, then stopped, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.
"Didn't what?" Vincent asked innocently, though his eyes never left Jin's increasingly pale face.
Meanwhile, inside the store, the intern clutched her 50,000 Rubi payment like a lifeline, watching the scene unfold with growing horror. What exactly did I just help happen? she wondered, remembering the mysterious bottle Vincent had been holding, the way he'd specifically requested she approach Jin with water...
The crowd outside the store had grown larger, drawn by the commotion like moths to a flame. Phones were already out, recording what appeared to be an epic public meltdown in progress. Social media was about to get very interesting.
Jin raised his hand like a conductor preparing his orchestra, completely oblivious to the biological time bomb ticking in his digestive system.
"Silence!" he commanded in his most dramatic voice. "My name is Jin Ashera. Do I need to say more?"
The crowd exchanged confused glances—the name meant nothing to them. But the store manager, who had been laughing loudest of all, suddenly went white as a sheet. Recognition dawned on his face like a horrific sunrise.
"Oh... oh no," the manager whispered, his voice barely audible above the crowd's murmurs.
Jin's smirk widened as he noticed the manager's expression change. This was it—the moment of reveal. He opened his mouth to deliver his crushing victory speech, the words forming on his tongue...
And that's when something else decided to announce itself.
Jin's confident expression flickered. His hand moved unconsciously to his stomach. A bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.
The crowd leaned forward in anticipation, sensing something momentous was about to happen. Cameras focused. The store manager looked like he was about to faint.
Helena held her breath, her suspicions about Vincent's involvement growing stronger by the second.
Vincent simply smiled, his eyes fixed on Jin's increasingly distressed face, waiting for the beautiful, inevitable conclusion to his 300 VP investment.
And then Jin opened his mouth to deliver his triumphant revelation—and what came out was definitely not what anyone expected.