REBORN WITH THE GOD-LEVEL CASH SYSTEM

3

An eight-meter-tall glass wall separated the raging storm outside from the multi-million-dollar tranquility inside the Maybach & Bugatti Flagship Store.

Kaspar shook out his black umbrella over the entrance mat. Rainwater dripped from his cheap jeans, leaving wet tracks across the polished, checker-patterned granite floor.

In the center of the showroom floor stood two senior sales executives in tailored dark blue suits. One of them, a man with a thin mustache named Henri, was sipping an espresso while eyeing the entrance. His gaze swept Kaspar from head to toe, taking in the soaked canvas sneakers, the faded windbreaker, and the cracked smartphone tucked into his waistband.

Henri clicked his tongue in disdain, turning back to his colleague. "Look at that. Every time it rains, some bum uses our dealership as a shelter. Just dirtying up the floor."

"Call security?" his colleague whispered.

"No need," Henri smirked quietly. "Let the intern handle it. Good practice for that holier-than-thou girl."

From the back corridor, a young woman stepped out holding a thick stack of brochures. She wore a fitted white silk blouse paired with a knee-length black pencil skirt that accentuated the elegant curve of her hips and her slender waist. Her auburn hair was neatly tied back, revealing a long, porcelain neck and a defined jawline. A silver name tag pinned to her left chest read Camille Roche – Trainee.

Henri summoned her with a dismissive wave. "Camille. We have a 'prospective buyer' near the entrance. Go sweep up his footprints."

Camille glanced at Henri, catching the mockery behind his words. She didn't reply. Setting her brochures down, she retrieved a warm, dry towel from the sterilizer cabinet and walked straight toward Kaspar without a moment's hesitation.

"Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Maybach & Bugatti," Camille greeted him with a warm, genuine smile. She offered the warm towel with both hands. "It’s pouring outside. Please use this to dry your hands."

Kaspar took the towel. His fingers briefly brushed against the smooth, warm skin of Camille’s hand.

Kaspar met the girl's hazel eyes. From a step away, the passive effect of the System’s Divine Charm subtly took hold. Camille caught her breath; her eyes blinked slowly as she looked at Kaspar's face. There was something about this youth in faded jeans—an imposing elegance and an overwhelming presence that made her heart beat faster than usual.

"Thank you," Kaspar said, his voice deep and steady. "What's your name?"

"I'm Camille, sir. Camille Roche," she replied, striving to keep her tone professional despite a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. "Are you looking for a specific model today, or would you just like to browse our collection?"

From afar, Henri let out a muted laugh, crossing his arms as he waited for the embarrassing spectacle he anticipated.

Kaspar tossed the used towel back onto the small tray. He pointed toward two vehicles showcased on a raised, spotlight-lit circular stage in the center of the floor.

"Those two," Kaspar said matter-of-factly. "The matte black Bugatti Chiron Pur Sport and the custom Maybach Landaulet beside it. Are they both available for immediate delivery?"

Camille froze, her eyes widening slightly. "S-sir? Those two units are limited showroom editions. The total value comes to..."

"Three million five hundred thousand dollars," interrupted Henri, who suddenly stepped over with long strides. The man in the blue suit offered a sneering smile, cutting into the conversation without a trace of remorse. "Young man, do you even know how many zeros are at the end of three million dollars? This isn't a computer game arcade. If you just want photos for your social media, please step outside before security drags you out."

"Henri, please watch your language," Camille interjected firmly, stepping between Henri and Kaspar. "He is our guest."

"Guest?" Henri laughed aloud. "Camille, you’ve only been here a month and you're still so naive. Look at his clothes! His shoes aren't even worth ten dollars! Are you really going to waste time serving a beggar like this while I have a monthly sales quota to hit?"

Kaspar wasn't angry in the slightest. He looked at Henri the way a grown man would look at a throwaway tantrum from a child.

Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a heavy black titanium card embossed with a golden dragon logo reading Swiss Imperial Apex—an encrypted debit card delivered by the System minutes ago through its covert banking integrations.

Kaspar held the card between his index and middle fingers, handing it directly to Camille.

"Use an international merchant terminal," Kaspar told Camille. "Three point five million dollars in full. I'll take both units right now."

Henri snickered. "What toy store did you get that card from? You think you can fool us—"

"Do it, Camille," Kaspar cut in, without so much as glancing at Henri.

Camille looked down at the thick black card, which felt heavy and cold in her hand. Overriding the lingering hesitation in her chest, she nodded firmly. "Right away, sir. Please wait a moment in the VIP lounge."

Camille walked briskly toward the main cashier desk. Henri followed right behind her with a mocking smirk, leaning against the counter to witness the inevitable transaction failure.

"Press the button, Camille. Let's see how fast the machine rejects his fake card," Henri sneered.

Camille inserted the titanium card into the high-end reader, typed in the amount—$3,500,000.00—and hit confirm.

[Primary Banking System: Dispatching Capital Authorization...]

The terminal emitted a long beep. The small display instantly flashed bright green.

Beep!

[TRANSACTION APPROVED]

[Authorization Code: FX-99201-SWISS]

[Amount Deducted: $3,500,000.00]

A white receipt half a meter long began printing in rapid succession with a sharp, mechanical chatter.

The entire counter area fell dead silent. Henri froze where he stood. The sneer on his face hardened, twisting into an expression of sheer horror. His eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets as he stared at the official receipt stamped by international banking authorities.

"I-impossible..." Henri's voice trembled violently. "Three point five million dollars... paid in full?!"

The door to the general manager's office burst open. A balding, middle-aged man in an expensive suit ran out out of breath after receiving a top-tier payment notification on his system.

"Who?! Who just purchased the Chiron and the Maybach in full cash?!" shouted the General Manager, his eyes gleaming.

Kaspar walked leisurely out of the lounge area, approaching the counter with both hands tucked casually into his pockets.

"I did," Kaspar replied quietly.

The General Manager immediately bowed nearly ninety degrees in front of Kaspar. "Sir! Forgive me for not greeting you personally! I am the General Manager of this dealership—"

"I don't need your greetings," Kaspar cut him off coldly. He pointed at Camille, who was still standing rigid, holding the long receipt. "The entire sales commission for these two vehicles—ten percent—goes entirely under the name of Camille Roche."

Camille’s eyes went wide. Ten percent of 3.5 million dollars was three hundred and fifty thousand dollars—enough money to change her entire life in an instant!

"S-sir..." Camille covered her mouth with her hand, tears of sheer shock welling at the corners of her eyes.

Henri scrambled forward, his face pale and his eyes red with desperation. "Sir! Sir! I... I am the senior sales executive here! I can help you process the vehicle registration much faster! Camille is just an intern who doesn't understand legal paperwork! We can split the commission—"

Kaspar looked at Henri with a gaze that turned the man's blood to ice.

"You," Kaspar said flatly to the General Manager. "Fire this mustache man immediately. If his face is still here in one minute, I will cancel the transaction and ban this dealership network from my entire business portfolio."

"Henri! You're fired! Pack your things and get out right now!" the General Manager roared without a second thought, eager to appease the billionaire buyer in front of him.

Henri sank limply onto the damp granite floor, staring at Kaspar in absolute despair as two store security officers stepped in to drag him out.

Ten minutes later, inside the luxurious VIP conference room.

Kaspar sat at the head of the oval table. Across from him, Camille stood at attention, holding the ownership documents for the two hypercars with hands that were still slightly trembling. The concentrated aura of Kaspar's Divine Charm filled the enclosed space, causing a pleasant warmth to flush through Camille's chest every time her eyes met his.

"Mr. Eldridge... that commission... it's far too much for me," Camille whispered softly, her chest rising and falling beneath her tailored blouse. "I don't even know how to begin to thank you..."

Kaspar leaned back in his leather chair. His eyes measured Camille from head to toe—a woman who was honest, well-educated, and possessed immense untapped potential that was being wasted in a place like this.

"Quit your cheap internship here, Camille," Kaspar said, his tone masterfully possessive and dominant. "I need a Chief Personal Assistant. Your salary will be fifty thousand dollars a month, plus an unlimited black credit card to cover all expenses for my wardrobe and your personal needs."

Camille gasped. "F-fifty thousand dollars a month? My duties... what will they be, sir?"

Kaspar stood up and stepped forward, stopping directly in front of Camille until the fresh scent of his mint cologne enveloped her senses. He reached out, his thumb gently catching her porcelain chin to tilt her gorgeous face upward.

"Manage my entire schedule, oversee my assets, and obey my every command without question," Kaspar murmured inches from her lips. "Are you willing?"

Camille's heart hammered like a war drum against her ribs. The touch of Kaspar's fingers sent a strange, intoxicating heat racing down her spine. She closed her eyes for a split second before staring directly into Kaspar's commanding dark gaze.

"I am willing, Mr. Kaspar," Camille answered firmly. "My loyalty and my service belong to you from this second on."

Kaspar smiled with satisfaction. Just as he was about to draw his hand back, the phone in his pocket vibrated aggressively.

The cracked screen displayed an unlisted incoming call from a very familiar local number.

Kaspar tapped the speaker button.

The screeching, furious voice of a middle-aged woman suddenly blasted through the quiet conference room.

"Kaspar! You ungrateful, penniless dog!" screamed Genevieve Delacroix—Beatrice’s mother. Her tone dripped with unbearable malice. "Beatrice came home drenched and sobbing because of your insane stunt! Where did you get the money to hire those cafe guards?! You stole our family’s valuables, didn't you?!"

Kaspar simply listened, his expression turning colder by the second.

"Be at the Delacroix Estate at eight o'clock sharp tonight!" Genevieve barked. "Bring whatever is left of your dirty loan money for compensation! If you don't show up, I'll have the police throw you in prison for fraud!"

The call was abruptly disconnected from the other end.

Kaspar glanced at his watch. It was five in the evening. The balance in his account continued to tick upward relentlessly: +$100... +$100...

Kaspar looked at Camille, who stood by his side with complete deference in her eyes.

"Camille. Hire the best legal counsel money can buy within the next two hours."

"Right away, sir. What are your instructions for tonight?"

Kaspar offered a chilling, "Tonight... we're attending the Delacroix family dinner."