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When Ryden invited her out shopping, Aunt Sarah's face lit up so brightly it was almost blinding.
Her mature charm was intoxicating.
After all, she was going out with her "little man." She didn't even bother finishing the dishes—she rushed straight into her room to dress up.
Sera clicked her tongue and muttered, "That hussy! Getting all dolled up at her age!"
Even as she complained, she slipped into her own room to change.
After all, no woman wanted to be outshone when it came to looks.
Ryden could only shrug helplessly. He sat on the sofa, sipping tea while he waited.
With the spare time, he fiddled with a walkie-talkie prototype—something he planned to miniaturize into a wristwatch someday. In the twenty-first century, such gadgets would cost a few hundred dollars at most, but here they were considered cutting-edge technology.
The disparity made Ryden want to cry.
No system. No cheat codes. Just raw grinding like a salted fish.
Life is cruel.
Click.
The door opened, and the two women stepped out together—one older, one younger.
One carried herself with the elegance of a noblewoman, her face flushed and radiant.
The other was youthful and fashionable, overflowing with healthy vitality.
Both were undeniably top-tier beauties.
________________________________________
New Century Boulevard was the city's most popular shopping district.
Malls lined the streets. Food, entertainment, fashion—everything was here. Walk a single block and you could find pants selling for ten cents.
It was a microcosm of capitalism, a place where even a small shop might secretly be a foreign intelligence outpost.
Anyone shopping here was at least a small capitalist, someone who never worried about food or clothing.
"How's this outfit? Do I look good?"
"What about these pants? Do I look good?"
"And this dress—how do I look?"
The endless barrage of questions made Ryden feel like his soul was leaving his body.
This is why men hate shopping with women, he thought grimly. Pure torture.
If it weren't for the fact that he was accompanied by two absolutely stunning women, he would've fled long ago.
Small bags, big bags, giant sacks—his arms, shoulders, even his neck were covered.
He looked less like a man and more like a walking ATM.
Every time they reached the register, Ryden pulled money from his backpack with metaphorical tears in his eyes.
That was hard-earned blood money!
And Aunt Sarah—normally so gentle and virtuous—became a completely different person once shopping started.
At first, she and Sera eyed each other warily, but after a few stores, they were laughing like sisters who'd known each other for years.
Shopping really is a man's natural enemy… Ryden even found himself wondering whether Superman had felt the same way dealing with Lois Lane—a woman who could melt steel.
________________________________________
"You two lovely ladies," a greasy voice suddenly chimed in, "may I ask your names?"
A portly, middle-aged white man stood nearby, eyes glued shamelessly to Sarah and Sera.
"My name is Cass, owner of Cass Food Company. Perhaps we could have dinner tonight? Get to know each other better…"
As for Ryden—buried behind shopping bags—he didn't even register in the man's eyes.
With Sarah's elegant demeanor, it was easy to mistake Ryden for an errand boy. And with Sera's youthful beauty, the two women were like trouble magnets.
"Hey. Fat boy."
Ryden stepped forward.
Seeing someone openly hitting on his women—how could he tolerate that?
As the saying went, if you didn't act cool, someone else would act cool over you.
A king of cool shone wherever he stood.
"Get lost," Ryden snapped, wrapping an arm around both Sarah and Sera. "These are my women."
Sarah and Sera both blushed—but neither denied it.
This was a man's moment to perform, and they enjoyed being protected.
Sera felt a surge of pride. The little brat who used to hide behind her had finally grown wings.
"You're asking for death, kid!" Cass sneered. "You dare compete with me for women?"
Two bodyguards stepped forward—but Cass raised a hand, stopping them.
He glanced at the police patrolling nearby.
In a district like this, police presence was heavy. Start trouble here, and you'd be locked up for days—and fined heavily on top of it.
"Tch. The one asking for death is you," Ryden scoffed. "Cass Food Company, right? Good. I'll remember that."
He pointed a finger at Cass.
"Wait for your bankruptcy, trash. You dared provoke Stark Industries? You're done."
"Stark Industries?" Cass burst out laughing. "Never heard of it!"
His eyes burned with greed.
"These two women will be mine. Name your price, kid. Before I lose my temper and your survival becomes… questionable."
Cass had briefly thought he'd offended a big family, but no matter how he searched his memory, he couldn't recall any major force called Stark Industries.
Bluffing brat, he thought. Does he really think he can scare me?
Ryden didn't recognize Cass—but Sera did.
She knew exactly who this man was.
Cass was infamous. He worked hand-in-hand with the Dasco gang—forcing farmers to sell food at rock-bottom prices while gouging customers. Any competitor was met with violence, broken limbs, or worse.
A merchant who climbed to the top on a mountain of corpses.
Sera leaned close and whispered, "Ryden, don't be reckless. That's Cass. He's backed by the Dasco. I'll show my badge—he won't dare act."
Ryden's brow twitched.
First Rocca, now this?
Damn it, he thought. This really is like a game—one boss after another.
"No need," Ryden said quietly. "I said I'd protect you."
His eyes hardened.
"The Dasco again? I'll wipe them out sooner or later."
He stepped forward, glaring at Cass with pure contempt.
"Fatty, you disgust me. You'll regret today. Don't think you're a big shot just because you hide behind the Dasco."
Ryden even spat on the ground in front of him.
"To me, you're already dead."
Cass's face twisted with rage.
"You—get him! Break both his legs!" he roared.
One bodyguard hesitated. "Boss, this is a busy district. The cops are right there."
Cass clenched his teeth.
Starting trouble in public wasn't wise—not with his kind of business.
Fine. Then we do it in the dark.
"Follow them," Cass hissed. "Find an opening. Kill the boy—or better yet, cripple him."
His eyes slid greedily back to Sarah and Sera.
"Don't hurt the women. They're mine."
He sneered.
"I'll make that brat wish he were dead."
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