Chapter 14: The Price of a Dog
Inside VIP Room 808, the air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars, spilled bourbon, and the shrill echoes of off-key karaoke. Julian Vance sat at the center of a semi-circular velvet sofa, celebrating his birthday with his usual pack of sycophants. The room was equipped with a top-of-the-line karaoke machine for singing, and the low marble tables were already buried under a mountain of premium liquor bottles.
They were all having a blast, but the real "entertainment" hadn't arrived yet. The group was busy formulating plans to humiliate Ethan the moment he stepped through the door.
"So, here's the plan," Julian leaned in, a cruel glit in his eyes as he swirled his drink. "When McCain walks in, we don't just make him pour the drinks. I want to see our 'Top Scholar' do some cosplay for us. I've got a maid's headband in my bag. I want to see him bark like a dog for a tip."
A burst of raucous laughter erupted, drowning out the music.
"That's classic, Julian!" Marcus laughed, clutching his stomach. "We should make him stay on all fours while he serves the shots. Let's see if his 'straight-A' brain can handle being a lapdog for a night!"
"I'll give him fifty bucks if he does it," another girl giggled, holding up her phone to record. "It'll be the most money that beggar has seen in his life. Let's see how much pride he has when he's staring at a fifty-dollar bill."
They were still howling with laughter, their voices filled with the arrogance of people who thought money bought them the right to trample on others.
Knock. Knock.
The door swung open, and Ethan walked in.
There was a momentary, heavy silence as the group took him in. Then, as if on cue, a fresh burst of derisive laughter rang out, echoing off the soundproof walls.
Julian leaned back, a mocking, "gracious" smile on his face. He gestured for Ethan to come closer. "Ethan, Ethan... it's my birthday, and I'm feeling charitable. Since you're already here to serve us, why don't we make this interesting? We want you to do some cosplay for the group."
Julian reached into his designer wallet and pulled out a crisp 50-dollar bill, slapping it onto the table with a flourish. "Put on the headband, bark a few times, and this is yours. Come on, McCain. On a normal day, you'd have to work for hours to earn fifty bucks. I'm giving you a shortcut. Just bow your head and comply."
Before Ethan had the System, he would have stood there with his head bowed, his face burning with shame. He would have likely endured the insults in silence because he desperately needed every cent to survive. Fifty dollars was a significant amount of labor for the old Ethan.
But now, he looked at their faces and couldn't help but feel a strange sense of pity for them.
He realized that most of the "crooks" sitting there weren't actually worth much more than he had been previously. They were just parasites sucking up to the truly rich kids, hiding in Julian's shadow to feel high and mighty. They truly believed they were better than him simply because they were allowed to sit on the same sofa as a Vance.
Ethan didn't reach for the money. He didn't put on the headband. Instead, he stood tall, his gaze steady and piercing.
"Fifty dollars?" Ethan's voice was calm, almost bored.
He looked directly at Julian, his eyes devoid of the fear and subservience they were all waiting to see. The "Scholarship Student" they intended to break was gone; in his place stood a man who looked at them like they were nothing more than loud, buzzing insects.
"Julian," Ethan said, a cold, sadistic smile finally playing on his lips. "You should keep your fifty dollars. You're going to need every cent of it for what comes next."