The transition from a high school student to a burgeoning mogul required more than just digital numbers on a screen. It required a physical sanctum—a place where the "Lust Fiend" could manifest his grander designs. With the $1,200 in his pocket and Butch's newfound, albeit terrified, respect, it was time to establish a base of operations.
I didn't head home to my cramped, mold-infested apartment. Instead, I led Butch and the still-shaking Spike toward the industrial district on the edge of Rokehurst. My new suit felt like armor against the grime of the warehouses, a stark contrast to the rusting corrugated iron around us.
"Why are we here, Lucas?" Butch asked, his voice low. He was still processing the "Florist" revelation, his eyes darting to me as if I might vanish in a puff of violet smoke.
"Every king needs a throne, Butch," I said, stopping in front of an abandoned auto-shop with a 'For Lease' sign hanging by a single rusted screw. "And every behemoth needs a workshop."
I looked at the building, activating my Intellect-boosted spatial awareness. I didn't see a ruin; I saw a high-tech hub. I saw a server room in the back to run my high-frequency trading algorithms, a private lounge for "consultations" with the school's elite, and a reinforced training floor for the physical mastery the System was starting to demand.
[ SYSTEM SUGGESTION: ESTABLISHING A 'DOMAIN' INCREASES PASSIVE LUST ESSENCE HARVESTING BY 15%. ]
[ COST TO SECURE LEASE AND INITIAL EQUIPMENT: $1,000 ]
I peeled off the bills and handed them to Spike. "Find the owner. Tell him I'm taking the lease. Pay six months in advance and tell him to keep the change as a 'discretionary fee' to stay away."
As Spike scrambled off, I turned to Butch. "You're not just muscle anymore, Butch. You're the foreman of Chaycer Industries. I want this place cleared, wired, and blacked out by tomorrow morning. I'll provide the blueprints."
[ NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: 'ARCHITECT'S EYE' (LEVEL 1) ]
[ DESCRIPTION: ALLOWS THE HOST TO PERCEIVE THE OPTIMAL STRUCTURAL AND SECURITY LAYOUT OF ANY OWNED SPACE. ]
I walked into the dusty interior, the smell of oil and old rubber filling my nose. I closed my eyes, and the System projected the final version onto my retinas. It was beautiful—a fortress of glass and steel hidden within a shell of urban decay.
But I wasn't just building a gym or an office. I was building a trap.
"Kit is going to want to know where I'm going after school," I mused, running a finger along a dusty workbench. "And Rishie... she's going to wonder how the 'troublemaker' suddenly has his own property."
I stood in the center of the grease-stained floor, my polished Italian shoes a stark contrast to the grime. Butch stood behind me, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallowed half the room. He was waiting for an order, his eyes flickering with a mix of fear and a strange, newfound purpose.
"The front area stays as it is," I said, my voice echoing off the corrugated iron walls. "I want the world to see a dying business. Rust, broken glass, the smell of cheap oil. But behind that partition..." I pointed to a heavy metal door at the back. "That's where the real work begins."
I visualized the layout, and the System obligingly traced glowing violet lines across the floor.
"Back there, I want a server room," I continued, pacing the length of the glowing blueprint. "State-of-the-art cooling, dedicated fiber lines. I don't care who you have to bribe at the utility company. Then, a private lounge. Dark wood, leather, soundproofed. When I bring people here, I want them to feel like they've stepped out of Kansas and into a shadow cabinet in London."
"And the middle section?" Butch asked, gesturing to a large open space.
"That's for me," I said. "A training floor. Mats, weights, and a high-speed camera system. I need to master this body before the System demands more of it."
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: DOMAIN INITIALIZATION COMMENCED. ]
[ ESTIMATED TIME TO COMPLETION: 48 HOURS. ]
[ CURRENT STATUS: THE BEHEMOTH'S DEN (UNDER CONSTRUCTION) ]
I turned back to Butch, pulling a few more hundreds from my pocket. "Buy the best equipment. If anyone asks questions, tell them it's for a private security firm. And Butch... don't skim off the top. I'll know if a single screw is missing."
Butch nodded solemnly. "I'm on it, Lucas. Spike and I will stay here through the night."
As Butch began clearing the heavy debris, I sat on an old workbench and pulled out my phone. The $1,450 in my account felt like a drop in the ocean compared to the millions I saw in my future. I opened the Forex app, my eyes scanning the live data.
Deep in the lines of code and the frantic movement of pips, I felt a strange sensation—a digital prickle on the back of my neck.
[ WARNING: SYSTEM TRACE DETECTED. ]
[ SOURCE: ENCRYPTED / HONG KONG REGION. ]
[ STATUS: PASSIVE OBSERVATION. ]
I smirked. So, the mogul hadn't quite let it go. Julian Vane, or whoever he had working for him, was curious. They thought they were watching a lucky amateur. I decided to give them a show.
I executed three rapid-fire trades, each one moving against the "logical" trend of the RSI indicators. I wasn't using the Prophet's Gaze this time; I was using my own Intellect to bait them. I made a quick $50, then intentionally "lost" $20 on a sloppy exit.
"Let them think I'm erratic," I whispered to the empty room. "Let them think I'm just a kid with a gambling problem and a hot streak."
In the world of the elite, the greatest advantage isn't being the smartest person in the room—it's having everyone else believe you're the luckiest idiot.
Just as I was about to leave, the heavy front door creaked open. The silhouette against the streetlights was slender, familiar, and radiated a sharp, cold energy.
Kit.
She didn't walk in; she invaded. She looked around the decaying shop, her nose wrinkling at the smell of old grease, before her eyes landed on me, sitting in my $2,000 suit amidst the rubble.
[ TARGET IDENTIFIED: KIT ]
[ CURRENT THOUGHT: "HE BOUGHT A JUNKYARD? NO... SOMETHING IS WRONG HERE." ]
[ LUST LEVEL: 12% (INTRIGUED/SUSPICIOUS) ]
"A little far from the library, aren't you, Luca?" she asked, her voice echoing. "And here I thought you were becoming a scholar. Instead, you're playing house in a garage."
I didn't stand up. I stayed seated, the king on his temporary crate throne. "Every great story starts in a garage, Kit. Didn't you learn that in Literature class?"
"I learned that Hamlet was a victim of manipulation," she snapped, stepping closer until she was within the circle of the violet lines only I could see. "Which makes me wonder... who's manipulating you? Because the Lucas I know can't afford that suit, and he certainly doesn't have the spine to look me in the eye for this long."
I activated the Silver Tongue. "Maybe I just decided that being a pawn wasn't enough, Kit. Maybe I realized that the view from the top is only for those willing to climb through the dirt."
I stood up then, the height difference between us suddenly feeling like a mountain. I used the Eyes of the Beholder, focusing on her hidden desire: She wants you to hate her so she doesn't have to feel guilty for loving you.
"You're not here because you're suspicious, Kit," I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous velvet. "You're here because for the first time in years, you don't know what I'm going to do next. And it absolutely terrifies you."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush a lesser man. Kit didn't blink, but I saw the pulse in her neck quicken.
[ LUST ESSENCE HARVESTED: +20 LP ]
[ TOTAL LP: 100 ]
"You're going to regret this, Lucas," she whispered.
"Probably," I agreed, stepping past her toward the exit. "But at least I'll own the building I regret it in."