SUPREME STYLIST: RETURN OF THE HUMILIATED GENIUS

Chapter 0009: Confrontation at Velvet

Two securities with no damn sign of drowsiness in their eyes flanked both sides of the entrance like statues.

"Good evening, Sir," one of them stepped forward one step. "Access card, Sir."

Rowan looks confused. "Access card?" He repeated with a creased brow. "I have no idea i needed something like that before I can pass."

"Then you're a new customer, Sir." he said, giving out a welcome smile. "You're welcome to Velvet Crest, Sir."

"Thank you." Ethan nodded with a smile.

"Please you'll give me just a few seconds to get you the access card, Sir." He said politely.

Rowan nodded gently, stepping to the side. "Alright."

The security reached out and tapped a button on a smart machine on a wall. The rectangular screen displayed some letters; 'printing access card' and humming through the process.

Immediately the screen blinked green light, a smart slipped out from the machine. The whole process didn't take up to five seconds.

"Here, Sir." The security gave a gentle bow.

"Thanks." Rowan collected the card and walked into the reception lounge. A few people in expensive clothes were seated in the lobby, having soft conversations, while a few customers stood in front of the receptionists desks to check in. Rowan's presence in the hall seemed to dim the conversations, also drawing amusing glances like they had seen an ant confidently walk into a room meant for elephants. But Rowan didn't linger around, walking straight to meet a chubby female receptionist. Her head pressed down, typing furiously on her keyboard.

Rowan reached her desk with a smile. He rested his elbow and leaned in.

"Good evening, ma," he greeted politely, "I need a room."

The receptionist glanced up. It didn't take her the fraction of a one second to access Rowan completely and give a dismissive glare, lowering her head back to the screen to continue her work.

"I guess you're in the wrong place," she said without looking up. Her tone dripped with the unrestrained arrogance. "this is no gaming center or hangout spot. So if you'll excuse this place."

Rowan frowned, wondering if she was communicating with someone else through a device on her desk or she was actually speaking to him.

"Are you speaking with me, ma?" He raised a brow.

The receptionist looked up, her lips twisted in disdain like a misandrist hearing the persistent jabbering of her Ex-boyfriend pleading for a second chance.

"You heard me clearly the first time." She hissed. "This is no amusement park. So you better get going to play clown somewhere else or I have to call the Securities to throw you out. Kids like you come here often to play silly, but let me warn you— it won't end well this time around.

Rowan's expression hardened even more. "I'm not here to play games." His tone had begun to change. "I just need a good room to spend the night." He slapped the access card on the desk.

His voice had started drawing more glances from the few people in the lobby.

The receptionist released a frustrating sigh as Rowan stood persistent. She put back her professional mask seeing that the exchange was already getting the customers attention.

"Alright," she let out a sigh. "All the rooms are reserved..."

A customer wearing an impeccable suit interrupted the moment. He walked with a woman, arms draped on her waist. Immediately they approached her counter, her demeanor changed instantly, a wide warm welcoming smile puffing her cheek.

She shifted on her seat, wearing her professional mask quickly. The excitement in her eyes was unmistakable. "You're welcome, Sir. Ma. What room are you booking today, Sir?"

"The usual. The Penthouse." The man toned.

"Right away, Sir." She punched a few buttons on her keyboard and pushed her swivel chair back, reaching out to pull out a sleek drawer where she retrieve a key. He handed it to the man with a composed smile. "Do have a nice rest, Sir."

"I'll see you on my way out." The man nodded and walked away with the woman.

Rowan's expression hardened like granite beneath the shock of the unbelievable scene he just witnessed.

"What the heck," he rasped, his patience slimming drastically, "you just told me all the rooms had been reserved!"

But the rude receptionist didn't look away from her screen, completely ignoring Rowan's presence.

Rowan slammed his palm on the counter angrily. "Hey, I'm speaking to you!"

His voice cut through the lobby like thunder rippling across a quiet night.

The murmuring in the lobby quieted instantly, left for the whispering of the air functioning system. All heads in the lobby turned in his direction, and even the receptionist paused her finger on the keyboard, shocked by his sudden outbrust.

"You know that's actually rude— stereotyping customers by just looking at them. Is that how you people actually operate here?" Rowan confronted, staring hard into her eyes.

"And who are you to question my work ethics?" The receptionist glared, her eyes piercing back into Rowan's.

Rowan smile. Tight. The kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Work ethics?" He snorted, his voice rising slightly. "You just go against the real work ethics of a standard work place, woman. Who the heck employed an unprofessional and uncultured woman to sit behind this desk like a bag of rotten potatoes!"

"No purpose," Rowan sneered. "You're just polluting the whole air!"

Gasps!