Hugo stepped out of his room, looking like he had survived a war.
His hair was a mess. His eyes were dead inside. His shirt clung to his body from all the sweating.
And yet—
His steps were flawless.
Every movement, every stride—effortlessly smooth, powerful, and hypnotic. His shoulders rolled like he was on an invisible runway.
His posture? Impeccable. His presence? Unshakable.
He wasn't even trying.
It was just instinct now.
His newly infused Modelling Mastery was working on autopilot, and Hugo didn't even realize how insanely good he looked just walking down the damn hallway.
As he approached the 4th living room, loud miserable wailing echoed through the mansion.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! NOT ONLY IS HE A TERRIBLE POSER, BUT HE'S ALSO A MAN WITHOUT HONOR! HE TOOK THE MONEY AND RAN! JUST LIKE MY EX-WIFE!"
Hugo froze at the doorway.
What… in the actual hell was he hearing?