Corporate Villainy: Trampling Protagonists as a Business Dad

"Ah? Oppa, is that you?" a surprised and delighted voice came from the room entrance.

Vincent cringed at the way she spoke the word. Someone still likes to be called that in this country?

Everyone turned their heads in unison toward the door. A stunning woman stood framed in the entrance, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in perfect waves. Her blue eyes sparkled with recognition as they locked onto Vincent's figure. She was dressed to kill. A form-fitting red dress that left little to the imagination, the neckline plunging dangerously low while the hemline barely covered her thighs. Her makeup was flawless, highlighting her natural beauty with just enough enhancement to catch every man's attention in the room.

Vincent turned as well, raising an eyebrow with a hint of surprise. Recognition flickered across his features. It was the woman he'd slept with when he first reincarnated into this world, during those hazy early days when he was still adjusting to his new identity. But that had been a one-time encounter—a meaningless distraction during his transition period.

"Are you calling me?" Vincent asked, his voice carrying a hint of disgust that made several people in the room shift uncomfortably.

Seeing the look on Vincent's face, her confident smile wavered like a candle in the wind.

"Um, should I call you 'ahjussi' then?" the girl asked hopefully, trying to salvage the situation with another term that might be more acceptable.

"Does it look like I like it?" Vincent's brows furrowed deeper, his expression darkening with obvious displeasure.

Seeing Vincent's increasingly hostile expression and catching the manager's warning stare from the side, her face paled and panic flashed in her blue eyes. She quickly moved toward Vincent with practiced grace, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she navigated through the crowded room. Without hesitation, she pushed aside one of the hostesses who had been trying to get closer to Vincent's seat, claiming the spot beside him with the confidence of someone who had history with him.

"I am so sorry, op—sir," she caught herself mid-word, her voice trembling slightly with nervous energy. "I was just so glad to see you that I couldn't control myself. Let me drink this cup of wine as a punishment."

She quickly grabbed an empty glass from the table, her movements fluid despite her obvious anxiety. With theatrical flair, she poured wine until it nearly overflowed, then tilted her head back and drained the entire glass in one smooth gulp. A drop of red wine escaped the corner of her mouth, trailing down her chin in a way that somehow managed to look seductive rather than messy.

Vincent chuckled, his expression softening slightly at her dramatic gesture. "Alright, I'll let it slide this time." He didn't want to make things difficult for her over such a trivial matter, especially not in front of his men who were watching the exchange with barely concealed curiosity.

"You are so kind, sir. Thank you for forgiving me," she said while deliberately stroking his arm with manicured fingers, though her internal thoughts churned with frustration. Kind my ass. Didn't you like it when I called you Oppa last time? Alas, all rich people are a bit crazy and hard to please.

"Haha! Alright then," Raghu's boisterous voice cut through the tension. "Who wants to eat steak from Grandeur Hotel? Since boss is treating today, I must eat to my heart's content!"

Everyone looked at Vincent expectantly, their eyes bright with anticipation. The bodyguards tried to maintain their professional composure, but the hope was clear on their faces. Even the hostesses leaned forward slightly, waiting for his response.

Vincent smiled, genuinely amused by Raghu's enthusiasm. "Order for these ladies too," he said with a generous wave of his hand.

Hearing this, everyone's eyes lit up like children on Christmas morning. The bodyguards broke into grateful grins while the hostesses practically glowed with excitement.

"Boss, you're the best!" Raghu exclaimed, raising his glass high in salute.

"Thank you, Chairman!" David added with a bow, his usual professional demeanor unwavering.

"Handsome sir, your generosity knows no bounds," one of the hostesses purred, her voice honeyed with gratitude.

"We are blessed to work for you," another bodyguard chimed in.

The atmosphere soon returned to its previous jovial state, though some people would glance at Vincent and the girl beside him from time to time with knowing looks. The private room filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation, ice clinking in glasses, and the soft rustle of silk as the hostesses moved.

Several hostesses draped themselves over Vincent's bodyguards with practiced ease, their fingers trailing along strong arms while they whispered sweet nothings into ears. One particularly bold woman fed grapes to a blushing guard while another traced patterns on a man's chest through his shirt. The women were masters of their craft, knowing exactly how to make each man feel like the most important person in the world.

Beside Vincent, the blonde studied his handsome profile and calm demeanor, noting how his generosity toward his subordinates only enhanced his natural charisma. Such a man—if I could hold onto him, wouldn't I be able to live the luxurious life I've always wanted? The Germès handbag full of money she'd received from him after their night together had made all the other girls in college envious, but it still wasn't enough. She wanted more. Much more.

Vincent was drinking his wine, lost in thought as the celebration continued around him. I still have to come up with 3 billion dollars in a month or two somehow. He ran through his options mentally, each one presenting its own challenges. He could squeeze Jin further, but extorting a broken protagonist who already hated him would definitely backfire spectacularly. The system-powered taxi driver was unpredictable enough without adding desperation to the mix.

Suddenly, he noticed a smooth white hand hovering above his wine glass, pouring the rich red liquid with practiced precision. Vincent glanced at the flirtatious woman beside him and a memory sparked in his mind.

"I still don't know your name," he said simply, his voice cutting through her careful performance.

The girl's mouth twitched slightly at the statement, her perfect smile faltering for just a moment. I slept with you and you don't even remember my name, she thought bitterly, but her seductive smile never wavered as she leaned closer to him.

"I'm glad sir didn't forget me," she purred, deliberately pressing his arm against her chest as she spoke, the softness of her curves impossible to ignore.

"My name is..."

- - - - - - - - - - -

A few moments earlier

Across the city in a rundown apartment complex, a very different scene was unfolding.

"Sir, I have already told you many times that this doesn't count. Please pay me. I still have many deliveries."

"Bullshit! You came almost a minute late and still dare to ask for money? Doesn't your hotel have a guarantee system? Are you going back on your words?"

"Your building's lift is not working. I had to climb 20 floors to reach your place. This isn't my fault."

"I don't care whose—"

Two people could be seen arguing outside a small, cramped apartment. One was a young man wearing a wrinkled delivery uniform, his face flushed from exertion and frustration. The other was a half-naked man with a half-bald head and a massive belly that hung over his stained underwear, his greasy skin glistening under the flickering hallway light.

The young man couldn't take it anymore, his patience finally snapping after a long day of similar encounters. "Damn it, son of a bitch! Just looking at your shitty face and this place, I can tell you can't afford this meal even with your whole month's salary. You just wanted to take advantage of the situation with your building's broken elevator!"

"You, you dare..." the old man sputtered, his face turning purple with indignation. He could afford one and a half meals with his monthly salary, yet this delivery boy dared to insult by saying one. Aren't you just a delivery boy? Can't you just give it to me for free? he thought with gritted teeth.

After several more minutes of cursing and swearing from both sides, the young man finally had enough. He turned on his heel and stormed away, clutching the food container tightly as he descended the stairs two at a time.

The young delivery worker, Aelric, mounted his electric scooter, his anger slowly giving way to determination as he started the engine. At twenty three, he was a college student juggling multiple part-time jobs while maintaining a GPA that would make his parents weep. Not from joy.

As he puttered through traffic at the blazing speed of a mobility scooter, his thoughts immediately turned to the reason behind all his masochistic labor. Just a few more soul-crushing deliveries and I'll have enough for my goddess's phone! he thought, a smile spreading across his face.

For four long years—from high school through college—he had pursued his crush with the persistence of a stalker and the success rate of a broken vending machine.

Three months ago, after his 847th confession attempt, she had finally "accepted" his feelings by rolling her eyes and saying, "Fine" To Aelric, it had sounded like angels singing.

They hadn't even held hands yet because she was "saving herself for later" and "didn't believe in physical contact." Aelric completely agreed with this thinking. He wasn't like other disgusting men. He also believed in connection of souls.

But he was absolutely certain that once he presented her with the latest Orange Phone X, she would finally allow him the honor of... holding her hand for 3 seconds.

Just one more month of eating nothing but instant noodles, he told himself as his scooter wheezed through the streets like a dying animal, and then my goddess will surely realize I'm perfect boyfriend material!

Lost in his delusions of romantic grandeur, Aelric began mentally planning all the ways he could pamper his goddess. After I give her the phone, I should buy her favorite chocolates—the expensive imported ones from that boutique shop. And her period is coming next week, so I need to get her the premium pads (Don't ask me how he know this), maybe some heating pads too for her cramps. Oh! And those face masks she mentioned liking once three months ago...

The elaborate shopping list of devotion grew longer in his mind as he imagined himself as the perfect, caring boyfriend. He could practically see her face lighting up with gratitude at his thoughtfulness, maybe she'd even call him "sweet".

His daydream was so vivid that he completely missed the red traffic light ahead. His scooter puttered straight into the intersection, Aelric still wearing that dopey, lovesick smile as he fantasized about being the most considerate boyfriend in existence.

The speeding sedan's horn blared desperately as it approached the intersection.

CRASH!