The 90 Billion Devotion System

Chapter 2: Billion Beneath the Beats

Chapter 2: Billion Beneath the Beats

The entrance to KIMI was a glowing wound in the side of the East Sea’s neon-lit nightlife. A blast of rhythmic bass shook the glass doors, and every flicker of the sign above seemed to mock those who didn’t belong. Beneath that pulsing sign stood Leo Xu and his three dorm mates, all layered in the uncertain armor of youth: excitement, anxiety, and just enough confidence to make the first step.

Amber-hued lights danced over velvet ropes as luxury vehicles—sleek Lamborghinis, roaring Ferraris, and matte-black G-Class beasts—occupied every inch of the elite parking bay. Bai Zheli, adjusting his glasses with trembling fingers, gazed at the opulence and subconsciously stepped closer to Luo Peng.

“Brother Peng,” he whispered through the thick hum of music, “maybe we should find another place?”

Luo Peng, draped in confident charm and casual wealth, gave a wide grin and draped a reassuring arm over Bai’s shoulders. “You’re thinking too small, Little Bai. Tonight’s on Leo. This is your first time at KIMI, yeah? Look around, man. This place is paradise—if paradise served vodka with a side of heartbreak.”

Inside, the nightclub’s interior unfolded like a dream rendered in smoke and strobes. Crimson and sapphire beams sliced through darkness, bouncing off crystalline chandeliers that spun in time with the music. The smell of imported perfume mingled with liquor-laced air. A soft velvet scent clung to every corner of the lounge. And at the core of it all, the promise of reckless memory-making.

KIMI was not merely famous—it was a cultural axis around which the elite youth of East Sea spun their decadent nights. Rumors whispered of a once-famous actress who had quietly invested in the club. Whether true or not, the mystery only made KIMI more desirable.

Bai Zheli had heard tales. Tales of gold-leafed whiskey, of VIP lounges hidden behind mirrored walls, and of a threshold so steep that most students could only dream of crossing it. With a monthly allowance just brushing a thousand yuan, KIMI was as distant as the stars. His stomach twisted as he passed a Rolls Royce Phantom idling outside, its chauffeur standing still as a statue.

“Relax,” Luo Peng said, sensing his discomfort. “Leo’s treating us tonight.”

The dorm’s senior, Li Shao, added, “But maybe tone it down. This place isn’t exactly budget-friendly.”

They entered the chaos. Synchronized dancers rippled across a raised stage while DJ K-Phaze spun auditory magic, bending reality with basslines that made ribs throb. Each table glimmered under halos of light like shrines to temporary ecstasy.

Luo Peng waved at a sharply dressed hostess who guided them to their reserved booth. It sat halfway between the dance floor and the balcony lounge—a perfect vantage for both spectacle and escape.

“Leo, pick what you want to drink,” Luo Peng said with a carefree grin, pushing the drink menu across the sleek black marble table. The gold inlays on the menu shimmered ominously.

Leo opened it, and his heart skipped a beat. Dozens per bottle—for beer. Champagne flirted with four digits. Even basic mixers had price tags worthy of tuition payments.

Li Shao noticed his hesitation. “Let’s just go Dutch, yeah?”

Bai Zheli’s gaze flicked to Luo Peng, silently asking why they hadn’t just gone somewhere normal. Even a street bar would’ve done the job. Instead, this looked suspiciously like a ritual sacrifice—Leo being the goat.

But Luo Peng leaned back, his voice light. “Leo, you’re hosting, but I’ve got the bill. Don’t worry.”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “I said I’d host, so I’m hosting. Drink until the past becomes irrelevant.”

They exchanged a look, one that said everything. Leo was stubborn, especially when it came to Bella Zhao, the ex who still haunted his silences.

Luo Peng raised his hands. “All right. Fine. But don’t blame me when your wallet cries.”

Leo didn’t answer. He ordered two combo packages with mixed drinks, a fruit platter, and some light snacks—just enough to satisfy expectations without financial collapse. Three thousand vanished in a blink, but he had prepared for this. Years of tutoring and part-time gigs had built a small buffer, even after the expenses poured into Bella Zhao’s abyss.

“Cheers!”

They raised their glasses—glinting against the disco lights like crystal talismans warding off regret—and clinked them together with reckless joy.

“This,” Bai Zheli said, slightly buzzed, “this is what youth should be. Messy. Loud. Unapologetic.”

Leo smiled faintly. “It is.”

“Forget Ai Qian,” Bai added. “You deserve better.”

Luo Peng chuckled, his cheeks rosy from drink. “Exactly. Look around. Every girl here is a goddess next to her. You’re handsome, Leo. Smart too. Let her regret walking away.”

The compliments felt theatrical, but beneath them lay genuine affection. Leo knew his looks weren’t groundbreaking, but he had that clean, dignified kind of appeal. The kind that grew on people. He stood at 176 centimeters, his posture disciplined from years of silent determination. His features weren’t model-perfect, but they radiated quiet pride.

And academically? He didn’t just survive. He excelled. Scholarship after scholarship. But none of that had mattered to Bella in the end. Because love, like luxury clubs, required more than merit. It demanded background. Family. Inherited strength.

Leo raised his glass again. “Enough nostalgia. Drink.”

The sound of glass on glass, clear and resolute, echoed through the table.

Then came a tone that didn’t belong to the music. A sound sharp and sterile.

Ding.

[Detecting suitable host. Binding in progress...]

Leo blinked.

[Ultimate Simping Protocol recognized. Syncing life path... Complete.]

[Balance updated: 10 trillion Simping Credits available.]

Time slowed. The room blurred. Every drop of sweat, every pulse of bass, every flicker of neon seemed to wait for him to react.

And Leo Xu—no longer merely a student, no longer merely a boy scorned—tightened his grip on the glass, as the foundation of his reality shifted beneath his feet.