Chapter No.46: - Look The Part-Ⅰ

As Simon stepped through the grand front doors of the towering corporate headquarters, conversations dimmed and heads began to turn. Some faces lit up with admiration, others nodded in silent respect—but not all gazes were friendly.

Among the murmurs and glances, the undercurrent of gossip quickly stirred.

"Is that him? The one from yesterday?"

"Yeah, that's Simon... the one who took down Ghostho."

"He really thinks he's some kind of hero."

"Hah. He's just showing off—trying to build up that hero complex."

"Typical lone wolf act. Bet he wants attention."

Simon ignored it all. Their opinions didn't matter. With a calm, unreadable expression, he walked past them, each step measured and quiet. He stopped at the elevator and pressed the button for the 25th floor—restricted access. A floor no regular employee had the clearance to step on.

He wasn't here for petty business. He was here to sell something that no ordinary hands could handle.

As the elevator ascended, Simon's mind remained focused. When the doors slid open with a chime, he stepped into a wide, sleek room filled with cold light and sharper authority.

There she was.

Eira Sylvana—an executive known across all districts. Cold-hearted, calculating, and ruthless. A woman who would sacrifice anyone to maintain the company's image and interests.

Yesterday's battle was still fresh in everyone's minds. Soldiers and independent Astral Lords had fallen defending the base. Yet not a single company-owned Astral Lord had died—because none had been present. They were never sent to die.

Simon didn't let that get to him. That was the rule of the new world. Everyone acted in their own interest. Loyalty was outdated—survival and gain were all that mattered. He wasn't any different. If his family hadn't been at risk, he wouldn't have fought either.

Eira looked up from her desk, unfazed. Her voice was cool, almost casual.

"Good morning, Simon. Or should I say... White Flame Knight."

Simon frowned slightly, confused. "Good morning. But... White Flame Knight?"

She offered a faint smile, almost amused. "That's what the media is calling you. After the way you fought yesterday—wreathed in white flames, cutting through enemies like a blade through paper—it left an impression."

She tapped on her tablet and continued, voice now laced with subtle warning.

"but there's another name flying around you, The Fire Devil."

Simon's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Eira leaned back in her chair, voice icy and deliberate. "64-FB District. The residential tower. Burned to ash. No survivors. Witnesses described a young man—so handsome it made angels hide their faces—but whose actions were anything but angelic. He sealed the exits. Cooked the inhabitants alive. Let no one in, no one out."

She locked eyes with Simon.

"The man they described... was you."

And just like that, it all clicked.

The chaos. The uncontrollable rage.

That day still lingering in his view.

Eira stopped speaking and folded her hands. "So, Simon, what brings you here today?"

Still recovering from the shock of his unintended titles, Simon straightened his posture and replied, "I'm here to sell something."

Eira raised a brow. "If you want to sell something, you can ju—"

She didn't finish.

Simon reached into his space pouch and placed the Fire Lotus onto her desk.

The room's temperature surged instantly. Heat waves shimmered in the air. The aura of the lotus was overwhelming, almost divine.

Eira's expression froze. Her body straightened unconsciously.

The Fire Lotus—a mythical treasure.

Yes, Simon had planned to give it to his sister or father. But he'd changed his mind. Awakening one's own natural Astral Skill was far more valuable than forcing an affinity through external means. If he had used the lotus himself, he would've awakened fire—not his true ability: copying.

And if he had done that... he wouldn't be sitting here, on equal footing with Eira Sylvana.

She was the first to speak.

"Simon... I'll give you a deal."

Simon's interest sharpened. "I'm listening."

"I'll offer you fifty billion credits—and I'll owe you a personal favor."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. The Fire Lotus was worth at least three hundred billion. Her offer was barely one-sixth of that. And a favor? That would mean nothing once he grew more powerful than her.

Before he could decline, she added, "Sell the Fire Lotus to me, and I'll help you enter Beetle God Academy."

Simon's breath caught.

Now that was tempting.

Despite its odd name, Beetle God Academy was a legendary training institution. Only the most promising youth were accepted. They said even a 3-star Astral Lord would return from their program as a 5-star minimum.

Still, Simon didn't rush.

"150 billion credits," he said calmly, "and your help getting me into Beetle God Academy."

Eira's brows furrowed slightly. She clearly felt her offer was being undervalued. "You really think my personal favor is worth nothing?"

Simon replied evenly. "You said you'd help me get in—not that you'd guarantee it. There's a difference. And I don't discount for uncertainty."

She stared at him for a long moment.

He didn't flinch. He felt like she was trying to bargain with a seasoned negotiator, not a young man who'd just started walking the world.

But the number was high. Even for Eira Sylvana, it made her hesitate.

Simon saw the conflict in her eyes and finally let out a quiet sigh. Then he offered the final deal.

"125 billion. And I want the right to choose one cold weapon from the company's armory."

That changed things.

Eira blinked, then nodded. "Deal."

She extended her hand. Simon took it.

The agreement was sealed.

He left the Fire Lotus behind, stepping back into the elevator without a second glance.

It was done. A fair trade—for now.

He didn't need the Fire Lotus to awaken. Not anymore. He was walking his own path, and with Beetle God Academy ahead, that path was about to rise far beyond what anyone in that building had ever imagined

As Simon stepped out of the elevator, he headed straight toward his private office. His steps were steady, silent, yet firm—each one echoing through the sleek, polished corridor. On the way, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

A notification.

He glanced at the screen. It was a message with the details of a restaurant reservation—Tempo Prezioso, located in the very heart of the city. The dinner was scheduled for 8:30 PM, and the message included the address and confirmation.

Simon silently forwarded the details to Ivan.

Tempo Prezioso.

Just reading the name made him pause for a second.

It was no ordinary restaurant. It was the restaurant—so exclusive that not even his current wealth or rising reputation could get him a table on short notice. The waiting list was rumored to be booked solid for months, sometimes longer. You couldn't buy your way in—not with credits, fame, or force. You needed status. Connections. Power of a different kind.

As he passed a polished glass panel, Simon caught sight of his reflection.

A handsome young man stared back. His white shirt was wrinkled, the black jacket draped over it worn casually, sleeves rolled up in a way that only added to the disheveled look. His hair was tousled, face sharp but tired.

For a brief moment, a voice echoed in his mind—soft, gentle, filled with care.

"Whether rich or poor, if you don't look the part, society won't give you its respect."

His mother's words. From a life long gone.

Though he'd long left that world behind, her voice still echoed within him.

It had been nearly a year since he was reborn into this world—this chaotic, brutal place filled with powers, Astral Lords, and threats beyond imagination. Yet some things haven't changed. The discipline, the habits, the silent codes of life he'd followed for 35 years... they were hard to erase, even in a new world.

He wasn't like the protagonists of those novels—those who reincarnated with empty slates and newfound genius. No, he carried the weight of his past into the future, and he wouldn't discard it. Because starting new didn't mean erasing who you were.

The past builds you. The future needs that foundation to stand tall.

And now, it wasn't time to wield weapons or calibrate gadgets.

It was time to choose a different kind of armor.

The costume of society.

Simon stepped out of the company building, the wind brushing past him like the first cue of a new act.

Tonight, he wouldn't be the White Flame Knight.

Not the Fire Devil.

Not even the Astral Lord.

Tonight, he'd be someone who knew how to look the part.

The curtain was rising again—and this time, the battlefield was dressed in velvet and candlelight