A red Ferrari came tearing through the flooded street at a speed that was reckless in good weather and borderline suicidal in this.

The tires sent up twin rooster tails of rainwater three meters high. The engine howled with the particular fury of a machine being driven by someone who believed traffic laws were suggestions meant for other people.

The car didn’t slow down.

It didn’t adjust its trajectory.

It plowed through the massive puddle directly beside Stan at full speed.

SPLASH!

A wall of filthy rainwater erupted from the gutter and hit Stan Harrison like a breaking wave. His umbrella, his jacket, his shirt, his shoes, everything. Soaked through in an instant. Cold, dirty water dripping from his jaw, pooling in his collar, running down his back in icy rivulets.

The Ferrari screeched to a stop ten meters ahead.

"Can’t you drive properly?" Stan roared at the vehicle, water streaming down his face. "Are you blind?"

The tinted window slid down.

A face appeared, strikingly beautiful, framed by dyed blonde hair swept up in an elegant high bun. She was wearing a dress that probably cost more than most people’s rent, and she was looking at Stan with the calm, vaguely curious expression of someone examining an interesting piece of street furniture.

Stan’s jaw tightened the instant he recognized her.

’Vivian Reeves.’

Of all the ways he’d imagined meeting the fifth campus belle, being drenched in gutter water by her Ferrari had not been among them.

A few hours ago, he’d been wondering how to engineer a meeting. Now here she was, delivered to him by fate, bad weather, and catastrophically selfish driving, and the first impression was about as far from favorable as it was possible to get.

This was going to make things significantly harder.

But beauties at this tier, system-eligible, binding-ready targets with appearance ratings above nine, didn’t grow on trees. And Stan had never backed away from a challenge just because the opening move was ugly. He’ll conquer her then teach her a lesson she’ll never forget. .

[Vivian Reeves: Appearance Rating 9.2. Eligible for consumption binding. Bind?]

’Bind.’

[Binding successful. Reward: 30% of Star Entertainment Company shares.]

’More shares huh?’

That made three consecutive share rewards from three consecutive bindings. The system was apparently determined to make him a conglomerate magnate whether he liked it or not.

Vivian Reeves, meanwhile, showed absolutely no sign of remorse for having just soaked a pedestrian from head to toe with her three-million-dollar sports car.

She reached into her bag, an item that probably cost more than Stan’s old dorm room, extracted a crisp stack of bills, and extended them through the window with the casual indifference of someone tipping a valet.

"Here. A thousand dollars. Buy yourself some dry clothes."

Before Stan could respond, she pulled out another stack.

"And another thousand. For the umbrella."

She reached through the window and made a grab for his umbrella with her free hand, apparently operating under the assumption that everything in her immediate vicinity was available for purchase. She stuffed the two thousand dollars into his jacket pocket with the brisk efficiency of someone who had never once in her life been told no.

"I know I’m pretty," she added, noticing that he hadn’t moved. "You don’t need to stare. Our social positions are too far apart for this to go anywhere. It’s nothing personal."

She’d rejected him before he’d said a single word.

Dismissed him. Categorized him. Filed him under irrelevant and moved on, all in the space of about fifteen seconds.

Stan stood in the rain, water dripping from his chin, two thousand dollars stuffed uninvited into his pocket, his umbrella half-seized by a woman who had just informed him that he wasn’t worth looking at, and felt something rare and hot rise in his chest.

Genuine anger.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Vivian blinked. The words clearly didn’t compute. People didn’t talk to her like this. People had never talked to her like this.

"Who the hell wants your money?" Stan reached into his pocket, pulled out the crumpled bills, and threw them back through the window into her lap. "You have a little bit of money and you think that makes you god?"

"Wh - excuse me?"

She was staring at him now, genuinely staring, mouth slightly open, the composed mask cracking for the first time.

Stan grabbed his umbrella back from her loosening grip with one clean pull.

"It’s pouring rain. You splash a stranger from head to toe, you don’t apologize, and then you try to buy his umbrella out of his hands so you don’t get wet?" He shook his head slowly. "What kind of person does that?"

Vivian’s mouth opened. Nothing came out.

"Sick in the head," Stan muttered. He turned his back on the Ferrari, repositioned his umbrella, and walked away into the rain without looking back.

The umbrella shed water in a steady stream. His shoes squelched against the pavement. His clothes were ruined and his mood was worse. But his dignity was intact, and that was worth more than anything Vivian Reeves could pull out of her designer handbag.

Behind him, the rain pattered against the Ferrari’s windshield.

Vivian Reeves sat motionless in the driver’s seat, two thousand dollars scattered across her lap, staring at the empty space where a soaking wet stranger had just told her off with more conviction than anyone in her life had ever dared to muster.

It wasn’t until his figure had completely disappeared into the gray curtain of rain that her brain finished processing what had just happened.

She let out a scream.

"YOU BASTARD!"

The sound bounced off the empty street and was swallowed by the storm.

Nobody heard it. Nobody was around to hear it. The bastard in question was already two blocks away, buying barbecue skewers under a tarp, plotting his next move, and not thinking about Vivian Reeves at all.

[Vivian Reeves: Favorability −15]

Stan glanced at the notification and snorted.

’Negative fifteen. Great. Another one who hates me on sight.’

He bit into a skewer, chewed thoughtfully, and stared out at the rain.

’This one’s going to be work.’

Even with this, he didn’t regret doing what he did one bit, he was at a level where he shouldn’t take bullshit from stupid people like Vivian anymore...

Even Quinn, his own time was coming...