I Am the Ruler of All

The crowd was roaring with laughter when they heard Noah mocking Kingsley.

"Crap, the guy almost got me! I really thought he was some rich kid with more money than sense!"

"Come on, look at the clothes he's wearing; they're all bargain stuff! As if someone like him has money!"

"Hah! I gotta admit that I'm impressed by how he blatantly hurls empty brags like that!"

Pleased to hear everyone joining in the mockery, Noah scoffed at Kingsley and said, "Maybe you should consider using better props the next time you wanna come off as a bigshot, kid. That bank card of yours is a dead giveaway of how pathetic you really are. I'd die of embarrassment if I were you!"

Serena felt blood rushing to her cheeks as she said in hushed tones, "What are you doing, Kingsley? Everyone's watching. What if your card gets declined and you end up humiliating yourself?"

Upon hearing this, Noah chuckled and interjected contemptuously, "Oh, afraid of public humiliation, Serena? Let me give you a piece of advice as someone who tried to pursue you romantically once: stay away from idiots like this punk over here or his stupid will rub off on you."

"You—" A cold gleam flashed in Serena's eyes. She wanted nothing more than to end Noah's life right there and then!

He ignored the deadly look she was shooting him and turned to address Frank politely, "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Lowell. We'll leave before we affect your business any more than we already have."

Frank was pulled away from his thoughts when he heard this. He blinked out of his daze and quickly returned the Elite Gold Card to Kingsley as he said respectfully, "Here you go, sir."

Although he knew the card had no credit limit, he would need nerves of steel to actually swipe it. He shuddered at the thought of offending a man who possessed enough power to own a card like that; he was only a boutique manager, and he couldn't handle the consequences of rubbing someone like Kingsley wrong.

"So, you realized that the bank card is just a piece of plastic, huh, Mr. Lowell?" Noah pointed out sarcastically. "Honestly, there's no need for you to treat this desperate wannabe here with such respect. Call security over and have him thrown out!"

"Shall I call security, sir?" Frank asked, but much to everyone's astonishment, he was addressing Kingsley.

Noah's eyes widened in shock. "Mr. Lowell, what are you asking him for? He's just a village idiot—"

However, he had yet to get his insult out when Frank turned and gestured toward the boutique behind him, then bowed at Kingsley in reverence as he added, "If you do not wish to resort to calling security, then you are welcome to take the fight into our boutique. There's ample room in there for scuffling, not to mention air-conditioning. It's the optimum boxing ring, if I do say so myself. Should you require back-up, we have three shop assistants, all six-feet-two walking blocks of muscle, at your disposal. I am proud to say that I have a black belt in karate as well, and I would be honored to help you beat up this man."

The crowd, alongside Noah, gaped at the manager in stunned silence.

None of them could understand why Frank had gone from wanting to throw Kingsley out to offering to beat up Noah for him within minutes.

"M-Mr. Lowell," Noah stammered in disbelief. He was starting to think that Kingsley had put some kind of mind-controlling spell on Frank.

Presently, Kingsley eyed Noah coldly and asked, "What do you say, Mr. Morris? Care to take this fight inside where there's air conditioning?"

"You—you little—screw you! You just wait till we get to the Bayou! I'll get you then!" Noah glared at Serena, then at the eager-to-please Frank. Realizing that he had nothing to gain from picking a fight with Kingsley here, he spun on his heels and stormed off.

Frank asked earnestly, "Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?"

Kingsley paused in thought. "Just a moment, please." He turned to Serena. "How many people are attending the banquet today?"

"About twenty or so, I suppose," Serena answered, though not without confusion."Why are you asking?"

"I have to make you look good in front of them, no?" Kingsley grinned. He tossed the card to Frank once more and said, "I'll take thirty of the finest belts in your boutique."

Frank nearly sputtered in surprise as he bowed his head and said with utmost respect, "We have sixty-eight belt designs in our boutique collection, the best of which retails for eighty-eight thousand."

The crowd drew in a sharp breath collectively when they heard this. Eighty-eight thousand was money that the average working-class person would only see after two years' worth of labor!

Even Serena swallowed upon hearing the price. She muttered under her breath, "That's the bounty for killing a Grade C Target."