Tyler wiped his hands with a tissue, stepping over the unconscious bodies like they were trash bags after a party. He looked around once, casually straightened his collar, and walked out of the washroom.
The hallway lights flickered slightly as he moved, still calm. He turned a corner just as the VIP lounge came back into view. Richie and Mikey stood waiting there, Richie still half-shocked, Mikey just flat-out staring at Tyler like he'd grown wings.
Tyler brushed past them.
Mikey followed. "Boss! Hold on. Hold on. What the hell was that back there?! Since when can you fight like that?!"
Richie chimed in too. "Yeah, man. That was some next-level movie scene stuff. Who trained you? Jackie Chan's ghost?"
Tyler gave them both a side glance, not slowing his pace. "You'll see a lot of things like this in the future. Get used to it."
Richie blinked. "That's not an answer!"
Tyler pushed open the door to the VIP auction room and sat back down on the big leather seat like nothing had happened. "It's the only answer you're getting."
Mikey muttered, "What's next? You breathing fire?"
Tyler didn't reply. Just reached out for the small wine glass on the side and took a slow sip.
The auction resumed.
Items came and went. Antique paintings, vintage watches, strange artifacts, and even an oddly shaped ring said to belong to a forgotten noble family. Tyler watched with mild interest, hands folded under his chin.
Then something different popped up.
The presenter walked up with a glass case holding a tiny jar and a scroll beside it. "Next item: a cosmetic formula. Said to reverse signs of aging, improve skin texture, and increase glow. Results visible in three weeks."
Tyler blinked.
The bidding started at $100,000.
"200k!"
"500!"
"1 million!"
Tyler leaned back. "Wait, what the hell…"
Richie grinned. "Beauty sells, man."
"Two million!"
"2.5!"
"Three million!"
The gavel hit the table. "Sold!"
A rich woman with five shopping bags under her seat smiled proudly as people clapped politely.
Tyler was genuinely impressed. "They dropped 3 million on a face cream?"
Richie shrugged. "Looks are everything, bro. Especially when you're rich and bored."
Tyler opened his system interface casually. "Hey system, anything like that in the shop?"
[System: Yes. Showing relevant items from Cosmetic & Skincare section.]
A list popped up. Pills, creams, sprays, even some weird fruit that claimed to "reset skin age by 15 years."
Tyler narrowed his eyes. "Show me the cheapest one with the most cosmetic effect."
[System: Displaying top-rated budget option.]
Item: Dewdrop Rejuvenation Cream
Effect: Improves skin texture, removes wrinkles, adds glow, reverses 10 years of visible aging.
Cost: 10 Reputation Points
Stock: Unlimited
Tyler nearly spat his drink. "10 points?! I could buy that thing with the points I earned just from knocking out ten idiots in a bathroom?"
The idea formed in his head instantly. If this stuff worked even half as good as claimed…
He turned his head toward Richie. "Hey. You got any connections in the cosmetic industry?"
Richie looked suspicious. "Why? Don't tell me you're planning to enter skincare now."
"I am," Tyler said without missing a beat. "Might just take over the whole industry."
Mikey stared. "Cosmetics…? You serious?"
Richie chuckled. "Man, you're unbelievable. First real estate, then media, and now cosmetics? Can you leave at least one industry for the rest of us?"
Tyler smiled slightly. "No promises."
He looked out at the auction floor, thoughtful. "There's a lot of money in this world, Richie. But there's even more in making people believe they can be young forever."
Richie whistled. "Damn. You already got the slogan ready too."
Tyler leaned back in his chair again, pulling up the system interface once more. "Now, let's figure out how fast I can get this cream delivered in bulk..."
Tyler leaned back in the plush seat, ignoring the anxious looks Richie and Mikey kept throwing him. The auction had wound down, and while the glimmer of gold and diamonds still danced in the thoughts of others, Tyler's mind was elsewhere—deeper, darker.
"Take me to them," Tyler said without looking at Richie.
Richie understood immediately.
They descended into the underground levels of the building. With each step, the air grew heavier. Behind them, Mikey remained silent, though his fingers twitched restlessly.
In the dim-lit room, the eleven attackers were tied to chairs, faces bruised and bloodied. Most were awake. One had clearly pissed himself.
Tyler turned to the guards. "You. Out. Now. Just us three."
The guards glanced at Richie, who gave them a nod. They left without a word.
"What are you gonna do?" Mikey asked, eyes narrowing.
Tyler ignored him. Instead, he spotted a thick iron rod against the wall. A small, steady flame flickered in a nearby furnace.
He smirked. "Old school interrogation it is."
Richie raised an eyebrow. "You... you sure you wanna—"
"Oh, I'm not doing this for answers," Tyler interrupted as he shoved the rod into the fire. "I'm doing this for fun."
The room fell silent as the iron glowed red. Tyler approached the first guy—a bulky man whose nose had clearly been broken twice that day. Without a word, he jabbed the hot rod against the man's shoulder.
The scream that erupted was unholy.
Before the man could say a word, Tyler grabbed his jaw and shoved the rod into his mouth. Steam hissed from burning flesh. Richie looked away. Mikey's mouth opened slightly.
"Tyler… what the hell—"
"Relax," Tyler said, yanking the rod free. "I'm just warming up."
In Tyler's mind, a notification popped up:
> +331 Fear Points
> +225 Hate Points
> +104 Shock Points
He grinned.
The second guy got the same treatment. Then the third. And the fourth.
By the time he reached the fifth, Tyler was whistling a jazz tune. The fifth man's eyes widened as Tyler approached. Drool dripped down his chin from the gag.
Tyler removed the cloth. "Talk, or end up like them."
The guy didn't hesitate. "M-Michale! Michale sent us! Said... said we had to teach Richie a lesson!"
Richie blinked. "Michale? That media bastard?"
The guy nodded furiously. "Y-yeah! Said you humiliated him when you beat him to the PunchStream contract! Said his investors pulled out because of it!"
"I mean," Richie muttered, "I *did* buy the rights out from under him. But damn."
Tyler casually dropped the rod to the ground. It sizzled against the floor.
"You owe me more than a bottle now," Tyler said with a grin.
Richie gave a nervous chuckle. "You save my life, I owe you everything. Hell, I'll personally kickstart your cosmetic company."
Tyler smirked. "Deal."
He stepped out of the room. The guards were waiting outside.
"Kill the rest. Burn the bodies."
They nodded and walked in without a word. One of the attackers lunged, desperate. Blood splashed as Tyler shoved him back with a swift elbow. It painted his suit.
Tyler wiped his cheek with a silk handkerchief.
Mikey stood behind him, visibly pale. "Dude... when did you become like this?"
"Like what?" Tyler asked, adjusting his collar. "Efficient?"
They walked up the stairs in silence, the sounds of muffled screams fading behind them.
As they stepped into the light, Tyler asked casually in his mind:
*"System, how many reputation points did I earn just now?"
> You now have 15,900 Reputation Points. You just collected 4,569 from this incident.
Tyler grinned.
"Not bad for a day's work."