Preparations

Kang Manor – Morning Preparations

The scent of roses and sweetened oranges.

It soaked deep into the air.

James Kang stepped out of his bathroom as steam curled around him like a lazy mist.

His damp hair clung to his forehead in dark strands, and his body—lean, sharp, effortlessly refined—still carried droplets of water that glistened under the ambient lighting. A towel was wrapped loosely around his waist as it rested low on his hips.

James exhaled, then rolled his neck as he walked toward his bedroom.

His name was James Kang. Originally, James Hart.

Once the heir to one of the world's largest multinational conglomerates… until some complicated shit happened. Now, he was one of the new Executive Directors back at Hart Global Corp, thanks to an institutional investor and his grandfather, the Chairman.

That old man still pulled the strings. And James…?

James just played along.

As he stepped into his bedroom, he wasn't the least bit surprised to see Alfred standing there with a calm expression, arms neatly folded behind his back. The man had a knack for showing up exactly when needed.

Alfred's eyes flicked over James's figure, assessing him from top to bottom with an ever-so-slight frown.

"Master James barely eats…"

It was quite a dry remark.

"If you really plan on putting on proper weight and building some muscle to attract American women, now might be the time."

James stopped drying his hair.

His crystal blue eyes narrowing slightly.

"Maybe some other time…"

He replied flatly.

"I can't be late to the event."

Alfred shook his head with a small smile, then lifted the neatly hung clothes draped over his right arm.

"Understood. In that case, today's selection is as follows—your $10,000 Tom Ford dress shirt, tailored to absolute perfection, paired with your $6,000 Brioni dress pants."

He took a step aside, revealing a polished pair of jet-black dress shoes, accented with subtle gold trim.

"And, of course, your $30,000 Tom Ford custom oxfords."

James clapped once with a plain face.

Then he gave a casual thumbs-up.

"Alfred knows what I like."

The butler merely chuckled as he handed over the clothes.

･･･

South District – Ada Brown's Apartment

Meanwhile, in the less impressive side of Liberty City.

The South District, to be exact.

A young woman was also preparing for the day.

Ada Brown sighed heavily as she stepped out of her tiny bathroom, the towel wrapped around her curvy, wet body that seemed to grow sexier everyday.

The apartment was cramped, old, and the water had run out again at the worst possible time.

"Jeez…"

She groaned as she slouched.

"Of course this happens today."

She glanced back at the bathroom, frowning.

"At least I had some soapy water left from yesterday."

That was a small mercy.

Didn't even have to use up much of her soap.

Her frown deepened.

She didn't have enough money to buy another bar this month—if she planned on eating well that is.

And she refused to go back to bathing with shampoo again.

… Though she'd keep the last bottle around, just in case.

Then, just as she was about to go get dressed—

Scuttle.

A cockroach darted across the floor.

Ada's eye twitched.

Without hesitation, she lifted her porcelain foot and stomped it into oblivion.

SPLAT.

She wrinkled her nose at the mess.

"Ooof…"

She muttered, then grimaced.

"Gotta wash my leg. Got roach juice all over it."

She took one step toward the bathroom, then hesitated.

"Mmm… actually, I'll just use a bit of tissue paper instead."

Couldn't waste the last scraps of soapy water.

Not when the pipes might not work tonight.

･･･

Back at Kang Manor – Dressing the Part

James stepped into his massive walk-in closet, lined with rows upon rows of high-end suits, luxury shoes, and carefully curated accessories. At the center of it all was a glass display case showcasing a collection of model luxury cars—each one representing an actual vehicle in his garage.

As he buttoned up his dress shirt, leaving the top few undone, his gaze swept over the collection of wristwatches.

He reached for a random one.

Ever watchful, Alfred immediately supplied the details.

"An excellent choice. The Patek Philippe Grand Complications—valued at approximately $500,000."

James didn't even react. He simply strapped it on.

Then, as his gaze fell upon the model Cadillac Escalade, he hummed thoughtfully.

"Hmm… this should be fine."

He tapped a discreet button near the model car which immediately triggered a small compartment to open with a soft click and reveal the actual key.

With that settled, he turned and waved at Alfred.

"Come on, let's move."

The two descended the grand spiral glass staircase in a hurried yet graceful manner as their polished steps echoed through the lavish halls.

Soon, they reached the main hall.

They passed by the grand dining table, where a truly extravagant feast had been laid out.

The spread was an culinary masterpiece—perfectly seared steaks, fresh-baked pastries, delicate seafood platters, and finely crafted desserts.

At the head of the table stood Mrs. Benson.

She was the elderly housekeeper who had been with the family for decades.

She clasped her hands together and smiled warmly.

"I do hope Master James will eat before leaving today."

She spoke very kindly──not in the manner a chef would speak to their master, but rather how a doting mother would speak to her cherished son.

"I woke up at 2 a.m. to prepare this for you."

James paused as his eyes flickered toward her.

Mrs. Benson.

She had been taking care of him since before he could remember.

She had taken care of his father before him.

When he left for Germany, he honestly thought she'd either retire or… well. Just well.

But she was still here.

Still cooking for him, for whatever reason.

James sighed, shaking his head.

"Maybe some other time… you can either share it among the staff or feed it to Rufus. Dogs eat anything."

He spun the Cadillac keys on his finger with an easy, carefree whistle as he turned to leave.

Behind him, Mrs. Benson's warm smile faltered.

Her hands trembled slightly.

"I got up at 2 a.m. for this…"

She whispered in a barely audible voice.

Alfred noticed. His heart ached slightly.

He turned to the elderly woman and immediately bowed several times in apology, murmuring—

"Forgive him, Mrs. Benson. I'll speak to him later."

Then he hurried after James, who had already stepped outside, completely unbothered.

The sun was shining. The city awaited.

･･･

South District – Ada Brown's Apartment

Screaming.

Raw, guttural, and echoing off the peeling wallpaper of the tiny room.

"Where the fuck is it──?!"

Ada Brown's fingers dug into her wild, tangled hair as she spun on her bare heels. The too-tight towel wrapped around her damp body strained with every erratic movement, but she paid it no mind.

Not when her world was on fire.

She leapt over her unmade bed as the springs groaned under the sudden weight, and landed in the cluttered corner where heaps of clothes lay like a fabric graveyard.

She tore through the pile—shirts, socks, an old hoodie—all of it tossed aside as her eyes grew wider, more desperate.

Nothing.

She pivoted, now on all fours, and scrambled to another corner where the mountain of dirty laundry was even higher. The carpet here was grimy, and something crunched under her knee, but she didn't care.

Still nothing.

Ada fell back on her bed with a long, shuddering groan.

Her limbs sprawled and her chest heaved.

She stared blankly at the cracked ceiling above.

"Hi. My name is Ada Brown…"

She muttered to herself.

"And I am so, so screwed right now."

Her business pitch was gone.

The business pitch.

The only thing standing between her and the opportunity of a lifetime.

Today, of all days, when Hart Global Corporation—one of the biggest and most powerful companies in the world—was hosting a tech review event to scout fresh talent and support rising young entrepreneurs.

She had been chosen. Her.

Out of thousands of applicants, she had made the cut.

But without that pitch, without that binder full of schematics, cost breakdowns, and her life's work scribbled in between, she'd be a walking disaster in front of all those executives.

Her thoughts raced. Anxiety gnawed at her ribs.

"No, no, no…"

She sprang up, performing a swift kip-up that brought her straight to her feet. Her towel nearly slipped, but she held it tight with a sharp tug.

Her eyes darted around the room—messy, cluttered, but not impossible to navigate.

She could do this.

But as she caught her reflection in the dusty mirror propped against the wall, she hesitated.

Ada tilted her head and her reflection did the same.

Her hand settled on her massive hips as she felt the curve of them through the damp fabric.

"Hrmm…"

Her thin, strawberry lips pursed.

"Are my hips getting too big?"

She twisted to the side, examining herself.

"If they get any wider, I'll need a fresh pair of pants from the thrift store…"

Her expression soured.

"And even those cost too much…"

She sighed, deflating.

She could always keep wearing the same old ones.

"Right…? No… maybe… ugh, I don't know…"

Nothing wrong with a little wear and tear, but… she hated the looks she got on the street. The lingering stares of old men who thought they'd found their next cheap thrill.

And it wasn't just on the road.

Burger Shack was even worse.

The ogling, the whispers—it was enough to make her stomach churn.

Her face darkened the more she thought about it, but then—

Ada slapped her cheeks with both hands.

"FUCK! My business pitch!"

Her voice rang through the walls, and somewhere in the small, equally rickety sitting room of the apartment, a man sighed.

･･･

George Brown sat hunched over on a sagging couch.

His stretched-out white tank top hung loose over his wiry frame, and his eyes squinted at the television screen that shivered with every other frame.

The news anchor's voice crackled.

They announced the tech event.

[Today's the day! Young talents, bright futures, dreams ready to take flight—and Hart Global Corporation are patiently waiting with open arms!]

George clicked his tongue.

"Tch. No one's better than my Ada…"

His pride was quiet but unyielding. Then—

"DAD! MY INVENTION IS MISSING!"

Ada burst into the room like a whirlwind, towel still clinging to her, wet strands of hair whipping around her flushed face.

Her wide eyes were practically drowning in panic.

George chuckled, deep and throaty.

"Oh, relax…" he waved her off. "Already took care of it."

Ada blinked──she was skeptical, but hopeful.

"What?"

George pointed to the corner of the room where a neat cardboard box sat, taped and labeled in his uneven scrawl.

"Packed it up, cleaned your bike, and…"

He smoothly nudged his foot against a garment bag resting against the wall.

"Brought out a good dress you might wanna wear."

Ada's panic melted into a soft, awestruck smile.

"Awww, Dad… you didn't have to…"

George's face twisted into a light scowl.

"Of course, I did."

He huffed theatrically.

"Can't have my beautiful daughter slaving away at Burger Shack forever. Those creeps there…"

His voice trailed off with a dark edge to his words.

"I want you to be a rich, successful businesswoman. Not some… caked-up easy target."

Ada's throat tightened.

She moved to the dress and her fingers brushed over the light-green fabric as recognition struck her.

"This dress…"

George's expression softened.

"Your mom's. Nice observation. It's the first one I ever got her with my own money."

He sniffed, rubbing at his nose.

"Fitting, huh? My lovely daughter's wearing it, too…"

Ada held the dress against her chest as warmth bloomed beneath her ribs.

"Thanks, Dad…"

"You're welcome, sweetie. ❤️"

･･･

North District – On the Road

Meanwhile…

A pitch-black Cadillac Escalade cruised modishly through the streets as its tinted windows shielded its occupants from the world outside.

James Kang lounged in the backseat, a red lollipop in his mouth, the stick bouncing as he scrolled through the names of the eighty participants in today's tech event.

His gaze was flat. Uninterested.

His finger flicked the screen, and the faces and bios of young hopefuls zipped by, nothing more than fleeting images.

But he wasn't alone.

Beside him sat Allison Becker—a vision in corporate attire with a twist. Her ash-colored pencil skirt rode dangerously high on her sexily toned thighs, and her white blouse clung to her curves in all the right places.

She was such a sexy and ravishing young woman.

And the light sheen of oil on her porcelain skin gave her an almost ethereal glow──one that only made her appear more like a model than a businesswoman.

Her green, vixen eyes were sharp.

If you looked close enough, you could see the mischief brimming in them.

She crossed one leg over the other as her stiletto heel bounced rhythmically.

"Mmm~ ❤️ you look really handsome today…"

Her voice was like silk, smooth and low.

She leaned in further, causing her short pencil skirt to ride up the sweet, meaty curves of her thick, oiled thighs, which she had no qualms about displaying. After all, her thighs were seductive enough to arouse any man with a functioning cucumber between his legs.

However, James didn't look up.

"Your skirt's too short."

Allison smirked as her red lips curled a bit.

"I can make it a little shorter if you'd like…"

A pause.

James sucked on his lollipop, then popped it out with a soft click.

"I remember saying something similar to you on my first day at Golden Group… you said something along the lines of never spreading your legs for your junior colleague."

Allison's manicured fingers trailed over the seat's leather.

"And here I thought you'd finally grown a spine…"

James's blue eyes met hers, an icy edge in them.

"Careful, Allison. It gets to a point."

"Oh, James…"

Allison laughed softly.

She leaned in, her breath warm against his ear.

"Sexy reply…"

Behind the wheel, Alfred remained silent.

His eyes stayed on the road, his hands steady.

But he couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at his lips.

This was going to be an interesting day.