Urban System in America

Even though Aren was curious about where they were headed, he didn't ask. He simply leaned back and let himself enjoy the ride. Who knew when he'd ever get the chance to sit in a car like this again?

His eyes drifted toward Rex, who sat beside him with that same calm, collected expression, as if nothing in the world could ruffle him. In that moment, Aren couldn't help but think Rex truly was someone great.. someone born to carry himself like this. Compared to him, Aren suddenly felt small, even a little ashamed of himself. The difference between them seemed so vast that it pressed down on his chest, leaving him quiet, lost in thought.

But what Aren didn't know was that Rex's calm, indifferent demeanor was nothing more than an act. On the surface, he radiated composure, the kind of effortless grace that made people assume he had been raised in wealth, that luxury was the air he breathed since birth. Like the heir to some hidden dynasty, the type who probably had a chauffeur on speed dial and a private chef in the kitchen crying over scrambled eggs that weren't fluffy enough. People would look at Rex and think, Ah yes, this is a man who has never once in his life worried about anything.

But was that true? Of course not. Rex wasn't the heir of some powerful family, nor a man with endless resources at his disposal. He didn't have old money flowing through his veins or some castle estate waiting for him back home. In reality, he was just a college student who happened to have a little more in his pocket than the average guy. Not much—just a couple hundred million, give or take, and the wit to make it stretch.

Rex understood one thing very clearly… Power mattered, power wasn't just about what you had, it was about what others believed you had. The truth itself was irrelevant. A strong man who looked weak could be crushed underfoot, while a weak man cloaked in confidence could walk unchallenged through a den of wolves.

In a world where power dictated everything, whether someone shook your hand with respect or tried to step on your head like dirt… Bring underestimated would result in being ignored at best. And at worst? they were chewed up and devoured without anyone even remembering their names.

The illusion of power could be more dangerous than power itself, because people feared the unknown more than what they could measure. And Rex was more than happy to let them keep guessing.

So, if he wanted Aren to work, seriously and sincerely, he needed to keep the illusion of power.

Every glance, every gesture, every deliberate pause was a brick in the façade he constructed. He wore composure like it was second skin, the kind of quiet confidence that could make a stranger think, This one is different. This one must have a story. And the beauty of it was that he didn't have to lie… he only had to leave enough silence for their imaginations to do the work.

People loved filling in the blanks, after all, and he gave them just enough blank space to let their imaginations run wild. Did he come from money? Was he some young heir slumming it among the commoners, testing himself for "character development"? Maybe he had a butler secretly waiting outside with a limousine and a bottle of champagne chilling in the back. Rex wasn't about to correct anyone.

And why should he? Since last night, he'd already been mistaken for someone out of a wealthy family, and the reaction he got was proof enough that the illusion worked. Correcting that misunderstanding would only complicate things… what was he supposed to say, "Actually, I'm just a guy with a few tricks up my sleeve and a balance that looks big until you compare it to real money"? That would ruin the mystique.

Besides, he had no interest in doing the dog-blood drama of pretending to be a sheep in order to eat a tiger. That was exhausting, and unnecessary.

So, this was better and cleaner. Let people assume he was the tiger already. It saved him trouble, bought him leverage, and most importantly, it kept him in control.

…

The car drove through the city and came to a stop in front of a building that could only be described as magnificent. Its towering glass facade caught the midday sun, scattering reflections across the street like a challenge… look, but don't you dare look too closely.

Rex pushed the door open with the same calm precision he did everything else, stepping out as though the entire scene had been arranged just for him. His movements were measured, unhurried, and calm.

Aren scrambled after him, nearly tripping in his hurry, and only saved himself from face-planting the pavement by catching the car door with both hands like it was a lifeline. He quickly straightened, brushed imaginary dust from his shirt, puffing out his chest, trying to copy Rex's composed stride. But Alas, the attempt looked less like confidence and more like a nervous intern cosplaying as a CEO.

Up close, the building seemed even more intimidating, as if it was studying them in return, weighing their worth before deciding whether they deserved to walk through its doors.

Then he lifted his gaze toward the glass giant towering above them. His eyes narrowed against the glare bouncing off the massive signboard.

Strathmore & Keene.

The name alone was enough to make his throat feel dry. Anyone in Los Angeles with even a toe dipped into the entertainment industry knew the name. This wasn't just any law firm… it was the law firm, the biggest powerhouse for entertainment law in L.A. These were the people who decided whether dreams turned into blockbusters or lawsuits. A phone call from them could kill a career before it even started, and a signature from them could immortalize you in Hollywood history.

Aren had only heard their name whispered in articles, forums, and late-night conversations between desperate artists who dreamed of making it big. Standing in front of their glass fortress now, he felt as if he were staring at the gates of Olympus… and he was very much mortal.

(End of Chapter)