Hannah adjusted her glasses, her voice calm and sharp. "This is what you get for playing games instead of studying. Maybe try opening a book once in a while instead of speed-running dungeons?"
Sophie gasped like she’d just been stabbed. "Betrayal! From my own friend!" She clutched her chest dramatically, earning a few amused snickers from passing students.
Daisy, ever the cool-headed academic tyrant, only shrugged. "Honestly, it wasn’t even that bad. If you actually kept up with the reading, you’d be fine."
Sophie turned on her with an exaggerated pout. "Et tu, Daisy? I thought we were in this together!" Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel⸺fire.net
"Not my fault you keep prioritizing your game character’s level over your GPA," Daisy replied dryly, flicking her hair back as if dismissing the complaint entirely.
Rex snorted, amused at the scene. Beauty tyrants, indeed. Sophie might be the dramatic one, but against Hannah’s sharp jabs and Daisy’s deadpan cruelty, she didn’t stand a chance.
By the time Rex caught up with the trio, the five of them naturally fell into step together, like some kind of effortlessly coordinated group. Sophie was busy lamenting her soon-to-be hair loss, Hannah tossed in her surgical jabs, Daisy looked cool and unbothered like a queen untouched by mortal concerns, and Elara followed a step behind, quiet and helpless.
To any outside observer, though, it looked like something out of a drama scene... Rex, dead center, surrounded on all sides by the top beauties of the class.
And of course, the classmates noticed.
From Rex’s perspective, it was just another stroll.
From everyone else’s perspective?
It was pure provocation.
Heads turned as they walked. A couple of guys froze mid-conversation, one with his jaw hanging open, the other whispering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Bro, am I seeing this right?" A group of girls near the doorway glanced over, eyes narrowing, and exchanged quick looks that screamed gossip-fuel for later.
"Oi, oi, what’s with this formation?" one guy muttered, clutching his books as he openly gawked.
"Seriously... Sophie, Daisy, Hannah, and even Elara? All at once? What kind of harem protagonist is this guy supposed to be?" another whispered, sounding equal parts jealous and impressed.
A guy slammed his notebook shut, gritting his teeth. "I’ve been chasing Sophie for half a semester. Half a semester! And she doesn’t even spare me a glance. This dude? He strolls in, drops a smirk, and suddenly he’s escorting all four?"
Someone in the back grumbled, "Bro’s not even low-key about it. He’s just walking out like it’s a flex."
"Man, that bastard is really living the dream, huh?" one guy muttered under his breath.
"Dream? That’s a whole fantasy!" another groaned, watching the beauty trio laugh at something Rex said.
The whispers trailed behind them like a breeze, envy and curiosity blending into one constant hum. Meanwhile, Rex acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He was used to attention by now, though he couldn’t deny the amused little smirk tugging at his lips.
The beauty trio, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease... chatting, teasing each other, occasionally tugging on Rex’s sleeve when making a point. Elara trailed beside them, quiet as usual but with the faintest smile,
Once they stepped outside, the warm late afternoon California air brushed against Rex’s face, carrying with it a faint salty tang from the ocean breeze. The sky was beginning to glow gold at the edges, the sunlight slanting long shadows across the campus paths. Rex stretched his shoulders, feeling his stomach give a quiet, demanding growl.
Ever since he’d started downing system potions and keeping a steady workout routine, his appetite had grown like it was on steroids. What used to be a normal meal for him now barely qualified as a warm-up. He could eat a whole tray of food and still feel like his body was asking, That’s it? Where’s the rest?
Pulling out his phone, he started searching for somewhere decent to eat.
Of course, this once again reminded him of how technologically backward this world still was. No slick review apps, no instant star ratings, no endless pictures of dishes posted online. Just old-school forums, ancient message boards, and a few blogs that looked like they hadn’t been updated in years, where people left half-baked comments like "good soup" or "too salty, never again."
Rex stared at the screen in disbelief. Was this really what people relied on back then? This was supposed to be the most advanced country in the world, and yet... He sighed.
Still, after scrolling through a few messy scattered threads, he finally caught onto mentions of a particular restaurant not far from campus. It didn’t have glossy photos or detailed menus, but enough people seemed to recommend it that it was worth a shot.
Shoving the phone back into his pocket, Rex glanced up at the four girls beside him and said casually, "Found a place nearby that should be good."
The girls exchanged quick looks. One of them raised a brow, another shrugged, and the last tilted her head with a curious little smile. But none of them voiced an objection. After all, Rex was the one treating, and when someone else was paying, the food always tasted better.
They reached the parking lot, their chatter tapering off as something red and gleaming caught the corner of their vision.
It wasn’t just a car... it was a statement. The explosive, fire-red paint practically burned under the golden afternoon sun, so vibrant it looked like it could set the air itself ablaze. Its body was all flowing lines and lethal curves, every inch engineered to scream speed and power.
The hood dipped low and sleek, the sides hugged tight like a predator crouched to pounce, and the rear flared just enough to show off its aggression. Even parked, it looked like it was moving a hundred miles an hour.
The exaggerated aerodynamics, the polished rims that gleamed like silver blades, the iconic prancing horse emblem on the hood... everything about it was designed to overwhelm the senses. Just standing near it, you could feel the weight of money, prestige, and raw mechanical artistry pressing down on you.