"Um, Boss?"
"Mmm?"
A Rolls-Royce drifted through the glowing arteries of Paradise with silken, traitorous grace, quiet enough that the city lights sliding across the tinted windows felt like fragments of a dying dream. Two million dollars of hand-stitched leather, bulletproof glass, and an engine that purred at frequencies engineered to make passengers forget they were in a vehicle at all — absurdly, expensively, with the meticulous devotion only a grandmother with trillions and a pathological need to spoil could orchestrate — disguised as a borrowed hotel car.
Phei didn't own it in fact Phei didn't own any car:
The Cosmic Dragon who could collapse people with his aura was being chauffeured around Hell's Paradise Island in someone else's obscenely customized vehicle because his personal fleet consisted of exactly zero automobiles and the Empress had apparently decided this particular injustice would be corrected without his knowledge, one disguised Rolls-Royce at a time.
