Urban System in America

The receptionist pushed the door open with a gentle smile, ushering Rex and Aren inside.

Aren, bracing himself, thought, Well, this is it.

The office was just as magnificent as the building itself…if not more. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of downtown Los Angeles, sunlight spilling across shelves lined with thick legal volumes and glossy binders stamped with studio logos. A wall of framed photographs showcased Colin Price shaking hands with movie stars, studio executives, even a former president or two. The furniture was sleek but heavy, a mix of mahogany and leather that gave the room both authority and comfort.

Behind a broad desk sat a man in his late forties, black hair neatly combed back, reading glasses perched low as he skimmed a stack of contracts. He didn't glance up at first, but the moment the door clicked open, his head lifted. His eyes landed on Rex, and his eyes lit up in recognition.

There was no way anyone could forget Rex once they'd met him… especially not someone as sharp-eyed as Colin Price. His expression shifted from professional focus to genuine warmth in a heartbeat. He pushed the documents aside and rose quickly, a smile breaking across his face.

"Welcome, welcome," he said, stepping forward with an energy that belied his age. "If you had told me you were coming, I'd have come down myself to greet you."

Rex shook his head lightly, returning the smile with that effortless calm of his.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Price. No need for trouble. I also wanted to visit the biggest entertainment law firm in L.A. Thought it would be

"Haha, you must be joking," Colin chuckled, his tone warm and self-deprecating. "I doubt a little firm like ours could truly catch your eye. Still, we do pride ourselves on the standards we've built here." His voice carried both pride and the steady assurance of a man who had spent decades carving out influence in this city.

He gestured toward the sitting area, deep leather chairs arranged around a polished glass coffee table, where a crystal decanter of water and glasses gleamed under the light. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

The moment they sat, Colin leaned in with a touch of courtesy usually reserved for heads of studios or long-standing clients. "What can I offer you to drink, Mr. Rex?" he asked.

"Coffee will do," Rex replied evenly.

Colin nodded, his expression smoothing into one of quiet deference. Instead of summoning an assistant, he crossed the room himself with an air of deliberate care. From a polished walnut cabinet, he drew out a tin of his prized coffee beans, a brand imported from a small roastery in Italy that he reserved only for rare occasions. He measured the grounds with the precision of ritual, set the machine humming, and allowed the rich aroma to slowly fill the office.

It wasn't something Colin Price, senior partner of one of Los Angeles' most powerful entertainment law firms, would normally do. But then again, this wasn't an ordinary guest. Age and charm aside, Rex was someone who had stood shoulder to shoulder with Hollywood's most powerful just the night before. Colin had seen him there… gliding through the glittering crowd at the private elite gathering, where billionaires, moguls, and cultural titans mingled away from the public eye.

Invitations to that party were rarer than gold, and he who was invited personally to last night's exclusive Hollywood elite gathering, was without doubt either immensely wealthy, highly influential, or both. That fact alone made Colin cautious not to show the slightest neglect.

And more than that, it was at that very gathering where Colin had first lent his hand… a quick, discreet help for a small copyright transfer contract between Rex and Aren. Something simple, barely worth a senior partner's time.

But Colin had chosen to handle Rex's matter personally rather than passing it down to one of the eager junior partners who would have jumped at the chance. In a firm like his, there was no shortage of bright young lawyers hungry for assignments, ready to bury themselves in research and paperwork for the sake of recognition. But this wasn't about competence, or efficiency, or saving his own time.

Because in their world, paperwork was never really just paperwork. It was trust, leverage, an invisible thread of obligation.

Now, as he poured the freshly brewed coffee into a porcelain cup and set it gently before Rex, Colin did so with the polish of a man who knew the weight of appearances. "I hope this suits your taste," he said smoothly, though there was no mistaking the underlying note of respect. In entertainment law, it wasn't always the contracts or courtrooms that determined power… it was the connections, contracts and lawsuits were only the surface, the formalities that clothed the real negotiations.

What truly mattered were the bonds forged in quiet gestures like these: the personal courtesy of a hand-poured coffee, the direct handshake instead of an assistant's call, the willingness to appear accessible when others would hide behind layers of formality.

And Colin Price, for all his decades of stature, wasn't about to miss the chance to strengthen one with Rex.

Sitting on the edge of his chair, Aren felt out of place, he sat there uncomfortably, his back straightened, the leather chairs were softer than anything he had ever sat on, almost swallowing him in. . Instead of relaxing into it, it made him even more tense, he kept his body stiff, perched as if he might slide down if he leaned back too far.

He wasn't used to this kind of comfort. For someone like him, whose days were spent in cheap plastic chairs at rundown cafés or on creaky benches at home, sinking into something this plush felt almost dangerous, as if he might stain it just by sitting.

His palms rested awkwardly on his knees, fingers twitching every so often. They kept growing damp, and every now and then he rubbed them against the fabric of his pants to dry them. He tried not to touch the armrests, polished to a shine, because they seemed too fine for his calloused hands. The air in the office smelled faintly of coffee and old paper, but also something expensive he couldn't name, like wealth itself had a scent. It made his head feel light, as if the atmosphere here carried more weight than the one outside.

He swallowed hard. Just being here felt unreal, like he had wandered into a world not meant for him. His chest felt tight, his breathing shallow. Part of him wanted to shrink, to make himself smaller so he wouldn't stand out against the grandeur of the office. And other part didn't want to embarrass himself.

Meanwhile, across from him, Rex sat at ease, leaning back with a kind of quiet confidence, taking slow, steady sips as though this was just another ordinary meeting.

Aren tried to mimic the same ease as he lifted his own cup, though he held it carefully with both hands, afraid of spilling it. The aroma alone was enough to make him pause. Rich, deep, luxurious, unlike anything he'd ever smelled before. One sip, and his eyes widened.

(End of Chapter)