"That makes… 50 million."
Park Woojin drew a broad smile as he placed the last bundle of banknotes taken from the briefcase onto the counter, completing the castle of money carefully stacked before him.
"So this is it… what a newly rich person feels like?"
He suddenly felt the urge to jump, to shout, to roll around on the floor like an idiot.
But at the mere sight of that mountain of bills, an unexpected bearing—almost noble—took hold of him.
"I'm no longer part of the lower class… haha…" he muttered, a crescent-moon smile hanging from his lips.
Honestly, all of this still felt unreal.
Just a few days ago, he was struggling to secure three meals a day due to lack of money.
And now…
All of this because a supposed old acquaintance had offered him a job.
A job that paid a lot of money.
"At first, I was convinced it was something shady… definitely illegal," Woojin murmured.
A slight dizziness ran through him when he realized how close his former self—stupid and full of prejudice—had come to letting a golden opportunity slip away.
Because far from asking him to rob a bank or get involved in dubious dealings, that old acquaintance had simply asked him to manage a newly opened hotel in…
…Beverly Hills.
"Damn it… this is completely crazy."
"To think that I manage a hotel in the same neighborhood as all the biggest stars… and that I'm stacking fifty million dollars as if it were nothing…"
"This has to be a fucking dream."
Yet, despite this euphoria, Woojin remained on his guard.
That morning, his employer had handed him the briefcase, saying:
— "It's an advance. You just have to take care of recruiting the staff… and properly manage certain clients who are a bit… 'strange' and 'eccentric.'"
At the time, Woojin had simply thought:
Of course they would be strange. Only the international elite come here.
But what truly troubled him was elsewhere.
In the contract.
Woojin was not entitled to a single day off from the hotel for two years.
In exchange, he would receive this amount every month, as well as any equipment or resources he requested separately.
"Honestly… I don't see the point."
Yes—actually, Woojin's situation was far too advantageous.
His employer only wanted 10% of the monthly revenue.
"Maybe the real price to pay will come after those two years."
Up until now, Woojin had been worried.
But faced with the money spread out before him, all his doubts were swept away with a single dismissive wave.
Hmph.
Woojin slowly leaned his face closer to the pile of banknotes and took a deep breath, as if trying to engrave that scent into his memory.
The smell of money.
He then frowned.
"Having this much cash… it's dangerous. Even in Beverly Hills, no one is ever truly safe."
Here, he could no longer be taken advantage of by second-rate thieves—but that also meant he could become the target of elite thieves.
His gaze swept across the room.
But for today, he had no reason to worry.
The room was completely soundproof.
The door, firmly locked.
He had checked twice.
Reassured, Woojin straightened up, ready to smile in satisfaction—
Click.
"…?"
Suddenly.
The smile froze instantly on his face.
The hotel door had just been opened nonchalantly.
Which meant only one thing.
Someone had entered.
No.
Someone had broken in.
Woojin abruptly turned his head toward the door, his heart pounding. A strange premonition crept up his spine.
"This is impossible… right?"
"I'm not seriously getting robbed… am I?"
The hotel hadn't even officially opened yet, nor generated any real activity.
That elite thieves could already be here was simply incomprehensible.
Even before the figure revealed herself, a female voice echoed through the lobby.
— "Why do I sense an aura of destruction in this hotel, hmm…?"
— "You'd better answer, if you value your life, brave young man."
Woojin froze for a second.
Then, finally catching sight of the intruder's appearance…
"Ah."
He let out an ironic smile.
The absurd words.
The outfit, to say the least… unusual.
He was now certain of two things.
First:
He was definitely the one who hadn't locked the door, mistakenly convinced that he had.
Second:
She was clearly one of those so-called "strange and eccentric" clients his employer had warned him about.
But above all, there was one absolute priority.
Securing the money.
Woojin casually walked around the counter and naturally positioned himself in front of the stack of bundles, shielding it with his body from the young woman.
Stay calm.
Professional.
Dignified.
"Making a good impression is my priority…"
"But hierarchically speaking, protecting my babies comes first."
Of course, he was talking about the banknotes.
Then, with an impeccable smile and a perfectly controlled tone, Woojin gave a slight bow.
"Welcome."