By the ti he got ho, the city had switched from elegant to half-drunk. The velvet elegance of the Biltmore was gone...replaced by the faint hum of genuine Los Angeles nightlife: engines purring, neon signs bleeding into fog, sirens sowhere far away like a city-sized heartbeat.
Of course, despite all the chaos, streets still buzzed in that weird LA way... like everyone was chasing sothing, even if it was just validation or a decent taco.
He stepped out of the Regalia, nodded at Kaelan and Victor.
"Go rest," he said. "Or do whatever normal people do after babysitting an overgrown kid.
"You got it, boss," Kaelan grinned, while Victor simply nodded, a slight chuckle escaping him. They watched him stride off, then got into the Regalia. Kaelan started the engine. "Well, what now?" he asked. Victor shrugged. "I could use a good nap." Kaelan laughed. "Sounds about right. Let’s first park this beast." he said, a bit reluctant to part with the car. And with that, they parked and got out, ready for so well-deserved rest.
Inside, the house greeted him in silence.
The air had that faint, clean sll from the AC, mixed with sothing flowery from the balcony. City lights spilled over the shiny marble floors, soft and golden, like money had its own glow.
He tossed his coat on the couch, kicked off the shoes that probably cost more than so people’s tuition, and just... exhaled.
The silence felt nice.
Not weird at all, just... well, felt pretty earned after the long day.
After lazing of for a while, he got up and freshened a bit and changed into a plain tee and sweatpants... because rich or not, comfort always wins... then flopped down on the couch, grabbed the remote, and hit power.
If he was going to live in a new world, he might as well know what circus it ran on.
Information, after all, was the real currency...and for a transmigrator, it was survival.
...
TV ca to life with that blue glow, volu high as always. A stern anchorwoman appeared on screen, yelling as if the world was ending again, and background flashing with red and white graphics.
Perfect background noise.
"In global headlines tonight, international trade tensions continue to rise between the European Federation and the East Asian Alliance over tariff disputes in rare-earth minerals. Analysts warn this could impact the global semiconductor supply chain."
Rex raised a brow. . "Still fighting over tal rocks? Cool. It’s great to know that this world’s also obsessed with shiny rocks and chips. Seems like so things never die."
After watching for so ti and not seeing anything he boredly switched the channel.
"In other news, the United Nations has authorized the deploynt of peacekeeping cyber units following reports of large-scale data breaches in multiple financial institutions—"
"Boring next..."
...
He switched channels. The cheerful tone of a local host replaced the global dread.
Channel 2
"Los Angeles police have confird that a serial killer remains at large, targeting young won across upscale neighborhoods. Authorities believe the killer is intelligent, organized, and possibly soone inford about the elite social circles. Residents are advised to remain vigilant."
Rex leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly.
Serial killer in the elite district?
Rex frowned. "Wow. Creative na, though. Who’s doing their branding, Netflix?"
He grabbed the glass of water beside him and took a sip, eyes still on screen.
The killer’s victims flashed across the display... all young, all beautiful, all elite.
He clicked his tongue. "Guess money really doesn’t buy safety... Seems like getting the security company early on was the best gift."
Next channel...
...
Channel 3
A refined male voice narrated over security footage of shattered glass and flashing alarms.
"In a stunning overnight heist, thieves infiltrated the L.A. Museum of Heritage, escaping with several priceless artifacts... including the ’Crown of Orpheus,’ a jeweled diadem believed to date back to the Roman era. Authorities describe the operation as ’military-precise.’"
Rex tilted his head, amused.
"Either Hollywood’s running out of plots, or soone’s auditioning for one."
The cara showed a blurry figure vaulting through the museum skylight... face obscured by a mask shaped like an antique theater smile, parkouring through a skylight.
Rex stared for three seconds, then grinned.
"...Okay, that’s kinda sick."
He smirked.
Whoever planned that deserves a raise... or a team-up offer. He thought internally.
"Still dumb, but sick." He added.
He leaned back, resting his head against the couch.
If this world had super-rich dynasties, corrupt professors, Hollywood predators and theatrical jewel thieves...
It seems like he wasn’t in Los Angeles anymore.
This was definitely GTA: Prestige Edition.
...
Channel 4
"And in lighter news, renowned superstar Emma Alison has reerged with a cryptic social dia update—her first in months—stating only: ’Music is freedom, not property.’ Fans are speculating this may hint at finally preparing to break away from her label..."
That one actually made him pause mid-scroll.
"...Still fighting her fight, huh?"
There was a softness in his tone. After watching for a while, he didn’t linger on it long and switched channels again.
...
"anwhile, stocks for Trivaxa Pharmaceuticals fell another 20% having lost 98% market value since last scandal—"
He grinned faintly.
"Yeah, volatile. Because soone was playing god with their trading algorithm, harvesting all the leeks.
He grinned thinking about his own gains and feeling fortunate that he had managed to keep his greed at bay, then flipped to sothing dumber.
...
And just like that ti continued to pass, the TV had cycled to a cooking show... soone flambéing steak like a pyromaniac or maybe avenging his ancestors. He chuckled at his own train of thoughts.
Seeing this he felt a bit hungry, he got up, opened the fridge and found — surprise — absolutely nothing worth eating.
He sighed. "Seems like gotta have to make sothing myself."
He had noticed that since he had taken various potions given by the system and started exercising, his tabolism had gotten fast, he had just eaten his fill at the Baltimore but now just after a few hours he was feeling hungry again. Well, he gotta admit that it was part cooking shows fault.
He stretched and pulled out so eggs, greens, and chicken breast.
Nothing too fancy...just fuel for the body.
Even rich needed protein.
He cooked while the TV kept talking.
A mix of noise, flickering light, and sizzling pan—dostic chaos wrapped in quiet rhythm.
When he finally sat back down to eat, the night outside had deepened to near-black, the skyline glittering like a galaxy pressed against glass.
Just then, A soft chi interrupted the broadcast.
Victor’s face appeared on the wall intercom.
"Rex, your Ferreri Daytona SR3 has arrived. The hotel sent it with two escorts and a full inspection report."
"Tell them to park it in," Rex replied, while getting a can of coke from the fridge.
He added after a pause, "And give them a thousand-dollar tip.
By the ti the car engine’s growl faded from the garage, his late-night dinner was finally ready, a sizzling chickedn breast, so greens, and a can of absoulety chilled coke.
He forked a bite of grilled chicken, eyes on the glowing ticker tape running across the bottom of the screen.
"—UN confirms preliminary talks with the African Union regarding the newly discovered lithium belt in Congo—"
"Fashion mogul Henry seen at a charity gala—"
"—NASA reports strange energy signatures from lunar orbit, possibly remnants of the 2035 station project—"
He smirked.
So, even the moon’s got drama. Perfect.
He ate slowly, the TV buzzing in the background.
He soon finished eating, muted the TV, and just sat there.
City lights painted gold stripes across the glass walls.
Outside, the skyline shimred like it was showing off.
He let out a quiet laugh.
"A serial killer, a museum heist, a rebelling pop star, and the moon acting weird..."
He smirked, leaning back on the couch.
Yeah."
"This world’s going to be fun."
(End of Chapter)
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