Saturday morning, Adrian stood in the center of his cramped dorm room, staring at the thick white envelope of cash sitting on his cheap desk. Four thousand dollars. To the billionaire kids on campus like Victor Lang, it was pocket change. To Adrian, it was the first brick in his empire.
But power wasn't just about having money; it was about how you wore it.
He opened his system interface.
[Host Status:] Level: 2 Charm: 4 Confidence: 2 Dominance: 2 Intelligence: 5 Wealth: $4,024
Lust Points (LP): 950 Influence Points (IP): 100
His base stats were growing, but his wardrobe was still that of a broke college student. If he was going to start moving in higher circles, he needed armor.
Adrian took an Uber to the high-end shopping district downtown. He bypassed the mall and walked straight into Sartorial, an exclusive menswear boutique known for dressing the city's elite. The interior smelled of rich leather, cedarwood, and expensive cologne.
As Adrian walked in wearing his faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt, the sales associate at the front desk looked up. She was a stunning woman in her late twenties, wearing a sleek black dress, her blonde hair pulled into a sharp bob. She gave Adrian a quick, dismissive once-over. She was trained to spot wealth, and Adrian's current outfit screamed "lost tourist."
"Can I help you find the exit, sir?" she asked, her tone dripping with polite condescension. "The mall is two blocks down."
Adrian didn't flinch. He didn't apologize. He walked straight up to the glass display counter, letting his [Level 2 — Dominant Aura] roll off him in heavy waves. He locked his dark eyes onto hers, activating [Eye Contact Control].
"I need three outfits," Adrian said, his voice a low, commanding rumble that vibrated against the glass. "One tailored suit, charcoal gray. Two high-end casual sets. Fitted. And I don't have time to browse. You're going to pick them out for me."
The saleswoman blinked, her condescending smile vanishing instantly. The psychological pressure of his gaze hit her like a physical weight. Her breath hitched, and a sudden, involuntary flush crept up her neck. The guy was dressed like a peasant, but he carried himself like a CEO who could buy the entire block.
"I... of course, sir," she stammered, her professional facade crumbling into flustered submission. "Right this way. Let me get your measurements."
For the next hour, Adrian let her dress him. He stood in front of the three-way mirror as she pinned and adjusted the fabrics.
Every time she had to kneel to adjust his hem, or reach around his waist to measure his chest, her hands trembled slightly.
The [Clean Aura] and his raw, unapologetic masculinity were completely overwhelming her.
When he finally stepped out of the dressing room in his new casual outfit—a perfectly fitted, midnight-blue turtleneck that hugged his broad shoulders, paired with tailored charcoal slacks and Italian leather loafers—he looked like a different species of human.
He looked dangerous. He looked expensive.
He walked up to the register and pulled the thick envelope of cash from his pocket, counting out three thousand dollars in crisp hundred-dollar bills. He slid the stack across the counter.
The saleswoman stared at the cash, then up at Adrian, her eyes wide and hazy. "Your total is $2,850, sir. I'll get your change."
"Keep it," Adrian said, flashing his [Magnetic Smile]. It hit her brain like a shot of pure dopamine. "You have good taste."
She actually shivered, her thighs squeezing together under the counter. "T-Thank you. Please come back anytime."
Adrian walked out of the boutique with his new clothes in sleek black garment bags. He had spent most of his capital, but as he caught his reflection in the store window, he knew it was the best investment he could have made.
The simp was dead and buried. The tycoon had arrived.