The woman in the pale lavender gown swept into the hotel arm in arm with her handsome companion, moving gracefully as though they were a prince and princess entering their palace. To her, the two "paupers" she had mocked earlier were nothing but eyesores—until fate decided to humiliate her.
They had just taken their seats and were about to call the waiter when both she and her date froze. Colin and Isis had just walked in.
They hadn't even changed clothes.
Did they sneak in? she thought with disgust.
But then she noticed the waiter following closely behind them, bowing with unmistakable respect.
People began whispering. Dozens of curious eyes turned toward the pair. Everyone assumed they had trespassed—but if so, why didn't the waiter stop them?
The smarter guests started to piece things together.
"This should be interesting," murmured a woman in a sleek black gown, propping her chin on her hand as she watched.
The handsome man sitting across from her asked, "You know them?"
"The girl? No. The man? Colin." A faint smile curved her lips. "They say there's nothing in this world he can't buy."
"He's rich?" the man asked incredulously.
"Rich—and infuriatingly arrogant. Worse than Bruce Wayne. But younger, better looking, and far richer," she replied with a low laugh. She had seen Colin once before—from a distance, back when she didn't even have the right to approach him. She remembered vividly how he had shown everyone that money, to him, was nothing more than a number.
The man's eyes widened. He knew Bruce Wayne's wealth. And someone richer than that? Unbelievable.
Colin glanced at the waiter behind him.
The waiter immediately stepped forward and said respectfully, "Ladies and gentlemen, this establishment is no longer a public hotel. As of now, it belongs to this gentleman."
A hush fell over the room.
"This gentleman has the right to ask anyone to leave," the waiter continued. "However, he wishes to make friends with everyone here. All expenses tonight will be covered by him. Of course, those who have offended him… may not remain."
At that, his eyes drifted toward the woman in the lavender dress and her date. The message was clear.
"W–what?! Are you joking?! Get your manager here right now!" she shouted, her voice shrill with panic as everyone turned to stare.
The waiter stepped back and looked to Colin. "This gentleman is our boss now."
The crowd: "…"
The woman in the black gown chuckled softly. "He hasn't changed at all—still as arrogant as ever." She'd heard Bruce Wayne once pulled the same stunt.
"Bought the whole place…" the handsome man muttered in disbelief. "Who does that?"
Colin turned his calm gaze toward the man beside the lavender-dressed woman. "You might deserve a better woman," he said casually.
The man stiffened. In that single glance, he understood Colin's meaning—Leave her now, or suffer the consequences.
He looked at the woman beside him. Yes, she was beautiful, but spoiled, entitled, and now she had managed to offend someone like him. Keeping her would only invite ruin.
Colin's eyes held a quiet, unspoken threat.
The man swallowed. "You're right," he said finally. "I do deserve better."
The woman froze, stunned. Then she broke down, screaming hysterically, clawing at the air like a madwoman.
Colin snapped his fingers. "Take her away. She doesn't belong here."
Several waiters approached, lifting her by the arms and carrying her out despite her wailing protests.
Silence blanketed the room.
Colin smiled faintly. "Tonight, everything's on me. Please—enjoy yourselves."
With that, he turned and left with Isis.
They stood atop the hotel rooftop, overlooking the glittering night skyline. The city's lights shimmered below them like a sea of stars.
Pressing her hands against the glass railing, Isis gazed out and whispered, "You really are someone important."
"I told you," Colin said. "This world belongs to me."
"Hehe." Isis laughed softly, thinking he was joking again.
Soon, a waiter appeared with their food. The two sat down to eat under the night sky.
When they were done, Colin asked, "Do you still plan to keep fighting them?"
Isis nodded firmly. "Yes. I can't just stand by while they keep hurting people."
Colin thought for a moment. "Then maybe I can help you. But you'll have to teach those people a lesson for me."
He reached into his coat and took out a small vial—a blood-red serum, faintly glowing.
It was something he'd developed in his lab. A body-strengthening agent.
For Colin, Isis was good enough—kind, but not naive, strong but not delusional. Giving her the serum wouldn't hurt. It would make her far more powerful, though still nowhere near his level. He wasn't foolish enough to create someone who could threaten him.
Isis blinked at the vial. "What is this?"
"Something that'll make you stronger," Colin said simply.
She studied the liquid curiously, then asked how to use it.
Colin took a syringe, drew the serum, and injected it into her arm.
Almost immediately, Isis felt her body burning. She trembled and looked at him anxiously. "I… I won't die, will I?"
The dark-skinned girl's voice shook slightly. Fear flickered in her eyes.
"You'll be fine in a moment," Colin said calmly.
A few minutes later, her temperature returned to normal. Colin watched silently, analyzing her condition. His perception saw everything—the smallest change in her body, every reaction.
Her physique had strengthened dramatically. Speed had increased the most, followed by durability, and finally strength—now just beyond human limits.
If they were to fight, Colin could still end it instantly. But against ordinary enemies, Isis would be unstoppable—or at the very least, fast enough to escape anything.
Isis looked up, eyes shining. "Can I… try it out?"
"Go ahead," Colin said with a nod.
In a blur, she shot off like a bullet, disappearing down the street. Colin's eyes tracked her easily—she wasn't as fast as the Flash, but her speed was more than enough.
Moments later, Isis returned, hair wild and eyes bright with excitement. "That was amazing! With this, I can help so many more people!"
Colin studied her quietly. What she said matched exactly what she was thinking. Another Clark, he mused. Clark Number Two.
But that was fine. The more heroes saved people, the more value those people would create—and all that value ultimately flowed back to Colin.
After all, every resource, every transaction, every currency in this world belonged to him.
As long as people lived, they generated value.
And that value—all of it—was his.
Of course, the parasites he despised didn't deserve to live in his world.