While Mark slept soundly at home, his second heroine, Lilith, was wide awake in her private study. Weeks ago, she had promised to help Mark manage his ranch, and Lilith was not a woman who made idle promises. Mark had given her carte blanche to reshape the ranch's image as she saw fit, and she intended to use every bit of that authority.The ranch itself was impressive—a solid foundation—but Lilith didn't want a mere farm. She wanted an empire that would be whispered about in the highest circles of the country.Her first task was branding. After cycling through several options, she settled on a name: The Divine Farm. It was catchy, sophisticated, and a subtle hint to the man behind the ranch.Next, she decided to tackle the ranch’s output systematically, starting with the dairy. Currently, the ranch produced high-quality milk but sold it in bulk to local companies at a discount. Lilith intended to end that immediately. To her, value wasn't just in the product; it was in the presentati

While Lilith prepared to deal with Enny Simpson, Mark was gearing up for another day of modeling training at the Throne Agency. His plans were abruptly derailed when his phone began ringing; it was Lady Clarice."Hey, Mark. We need you at the pharmacy," she said the moment he picked up.Mark frowned, checking his watch. "Is everything okay?""It's the government official... he’s back," Clarice responded, her voice tight."Oh, did they sign the contract? If so, just accept it and we’ll start the next batch of capsules, right?""It’s just... they want to talk to you personally."Mark’s frown deepened. "They?" As far as he knew, Mr. Smith always handled these visits solo."There are two of them this time. A man and a woman," Clarice clarified. "Please, just get here."Mark let out a heavy sigh. Dealing with the government was a chore he had no interest in, but he knew the score: either handle them once and for all, or they’d be breathing down his neck forever.To avoid drawing unnecessar

Mark sliced through the throngs of people outside his pharmacy, a blur of motion that barely registered to the crowd. He burst into the street, diving into the chaotic rhythm of traffic.A speeding car slammed on its brakes, tires screeching, but Mark was already airborne. With feline agility, he planted a hand on its hood, vaulted over the roof, and skidded onto the pavement of the second lane. He ignored the chorus of angry honks, his focus locked on the objective ahead. With his system feeding him a high-resolution, 500-meter terrain overlay, he ducked into a narrow alleyway, scaled a ten-foot chain-link fence in a single bound, and emerged directly in front of the Sai Hotel.'System, can’t you track the shooter? Like, show me their live movement on the map?'[The System cannot provide real-time entity tracking at Level 50.]"Right... useless. Got it," Mark muttered, rolling his eyes as he swung the hotel’s glass doors open.Once inside, he dropped the frantic pace and shifted into

While Mark lay unconscious on a cold floor, Neko's twin silent pistols pressed against his temple, Lilith was dealing with a different brand of lethality at the Divine Ranch Estate. Standing in the center of the manicured courtyard was Enny Simpson. She was the picture of a pampered peacock, her right hand perched on an aggressively curved hip, her body twisted into that practiced main character pose favored by social media starlets. But her composure ended at her feet; she was frantically tapping a stiletto against the pavement, a rhythmic, impatient clicking that punctuated her tirade against Alex. "Four days, Alex! Four days my trucks have sat idle while your peasants tell them the harvest isn't ready!" Enny’s voice was like shattered glass. "That contract we signed wasn't a suggestion; it was a command!" Alex, ever the professional, opened his mouth to de-escalate, but the air in the courtyard suddenly dropped ten degrees. "Alex," a voice like chilled vodka drifted from the d

"You bitch! You spiked the drinks!" Lana spat, her face contorting as she clutched her bubbling abdomen. "Do you have any idea who I am? I come from the—""Lana Del, of the Westgate Dels," Ben interrupted, stepping forward with the cold precision of a grand adjudicator. He didn't even look up from the tablet in his hand. "Your father runs a commercial laundry empire—glorified dry cleaners for the actual elite. You are the illegitimate product of a mistress, barely tolerated because your stepmother was thought to be barren. But," Ben flicked a page on the screen, his voice dripping with dry disdain, "seeing as your stepmother miraculously conceived two months ago, your inheritance is currently evaporating. Your 'big shot' persona is nothing but a fragile mask for a terrified bastard child. Shall I continue?"Lana turned a ghostly shade of white, her mouth hanging open. "How… how do you know that? Who the hell are you people?"Ben slid the tablet into i