Five mall security guards approached the lifeless body on the marble floor. The man in the center of the group looked at Logan with a stern, professional expression.
"Please cooperate with us, sir."
Logan didn't pay them much attention. He simply turned his head toward Max, waiting for a silent command from his Master.
"I don't want any trouble," Max whispered.
Max wasn't afraid of the law. The store was filled with cameras that would prove he never touched the fat man.
However, being dragged to a police station for a formal statement would be a massive waste of his time. It would eat up hours that he didn't have to spare.
Logan stepped forward to speak with the guards. From a distance, they hadn't recognized him. But as they got closer, their faces paled.
They quickly realized this wasn't a man they could afford to offend. Logan's presence carried a weight that made their own uniforms feel small and insignificant.
If Logan said it was an accident, then it was an accident. With the camera footage as backup, there was no need for them to make things complicated.
After a few minutes of quiet negotiation, the guards announced to the crowd that they should disperse. They were now simply waiting for the forensic team.
Several reporters who had rushed to the scene looked disappointed. One of them shouted from the back of the crowd.
"Hey, cashier over there! Didn't you just scream about a murder? Where is the killer?"
The cashier opened her mouth to speak. But then she caught the terrifying, silent glare from Logan.
She immediately shut her jaw tight. She looked down at the floor, choosing a fearful silence over a risky accusation.
While the chaos of journalists and curious onlookers intensified, Max quietly slipped away from the scene.
Thanks to Logan's smooth handling of the security team, Max was free to leave without being detained for questioning.
Too much had happened in too little time. Max realized he was still wearing his old, worn-out clothes.
He stepped into a nearby high-end boutique. He grabbed a random shirt from a rack just to have an excuse to use the fitting room.
When Max finally emerged, the transformation was staggering. The old saying that clothes make the man was proving to be an absolute truth.
Before, Max looked like a struggling student. He looked like someone who was one lost scholarship away from total ruin.
Now, he radiated the aura of a powerful young CEO. His youthful face was framed by an air of authority that didn't quite seem to match his age.
He felt the shift in his own confidence. He decided to buy the shirt he had grabbed. He was rich enough now to not care about the price tag.
As he walked toward the counter to pay, a conversation nearby caught his attention. It sounded like someone was in a bit of a crisis.
"That's impossible. My credit card is frozen?"
"I'm so sorry, miss. Is there any way I can put these heels on credit? It's my best friend's birthday tomorrow, and I really need them."
A young woman in her early twenties was trying to haggle with the cashier. She looked desperate, clutching a pair of designer heels.
"I apologize, miss, but I'm just doing my job. I don't have the authority to offer credit to customers," the cashier replied politely.
"Why don't you try calling your parents to resolve the issue with your bank?"
The girl sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I wish I could. But my father is incredibly stubborn."
"It will take more than a few days to change his mind."
As the two of them continued their back and forth, Max stepped forward. His voice cut through their conversation, making both women turn their heads.
The moment Max saw the girl's face, a translucent system notification appeared in his field of vision.
[Name: Rose]
[Age: 24]
[Daughter of Principal Martin]
[Beauty Score: 81]
[Affection: 30/100]
Max was stunned. He had walked through the entire mall, seeing dozens of people with average beauty scores around 40.
Occasionally he saw a 60 or a 70. But this was the first time he had seen a woman with a score over 80.
Under the warm yellow lights of the boutique, Rose was breathtaking. She wore a burgundy dress that hugged every curve of her body with sophisticated grace.
Her hair was a vibrant fire red. It shimmered with amber highlights every time she moved, looking like living silk.
A subtle scent drifted from her. It was a blend of fresh bergamot, warm cedarwood, and a hint of honeyed sweetness from her skin.
Her large blue eyes were wide with a mix of surprise and caution. Every gesture she made exuded a sense of nobility and allure.
Dammit, why is her affection for me so low? Max thought. Am I still not handsome enough?
He realized he needed to finish more missions to increase his charm. Appearance was everything in this world.
In the story of the ugly duckling, the bird is only loved once it becomes a swan. No one loves the ugly duckling while it is still ugly.
Wait a second, Max thought as the name hit him. Daughter of Principal Martin?
A cold, dark laughter bubbled up in his chest. The world was truly a small and vengeful place.
Martin, that heartless bastard who had tried to ruin his life. Since you were merciless to me, don't blame me for being ruthless to you.
"Your daughter is mine," Max whispered under his breath.