The Campus Loser’s Billionaire System

Chapter 4

The following morning, Dean hailed a taxi outside the campus gates.

The driver, a talkative man in his late forties, glanced back through his rearview mirror as Dean settled into the back seat.

Upon hearing Dean’s destination, he couldn’t hold back his curiosity.

“Young man, hope you don’t mind me asking, but what brings you to the Mapleland Sales Center?” the driver asked, eyeing Dean’s faded sportswear. “That place is strictly for the ultra-rich. To be frank, you don’t exactly look like their typical crowd.”

Mapleland Real Estate Sales Center was legendary throughout Sky City for its absurdly luxurious developments. The baseline price started at over seventy thousand dollars per square meter. A normal working-class person could toil for thirty years and still not afford a half-bathroom on the property.

Seeing a college kid in a cheap, worn-out tracksuit heading toward the most elite real estate hub in the city left the driver really baffled. If the kid was going there to pull a stunt or look around, he was heading straight into a wall of trouble.

“I’m going to look at some properties,” Dean replied calmly.

He didn’t take offense at the driver’s blunt observation, recognizing the underlying, albeit skeptical, concern in the man’s voice.

“Looking at properties?” The driver raised his eyebrows, his skepticism deepening. “Young man, it pays to keep your feet on the ground. Are you sure you aren’t just applying for a job there?”

It wasn’t that the driver had never shuttled clients to Mapleland before, he had. But those passengers wore head-to-toe designer suits, carried luxury leather bags, and arrived in sports cars. A kid wearing ten-dollar sneakers and a faded hoodie simply didn’t fit the picture.

“I’m serious, sir. I’m going there to buy a home,” Dean said, his tone firm.

The driver sighed and shook his head in resignation. “Ah, kids these days... Fine, fine, I believe you. Happy?”

His sarcastic expression, however, said otherwise.

‘Buy a home?’ The man thought. ‘A single bathroom there costs seven hundred thousand. The kid couldn’t buy a toilet stall if he worked three lifetimes, let alone a house.’

Before long, the taxi pulled up to the grand, marble-columned entrance of the Mapleland Sales Center.

Dean handed over the fare and stepped out onto the pavement.

Before pulling away, the driver rolled down his window to offer one last piece of advice. “Hey kid, just keep your head down in there. Some reckless guy tried to make a scene in there last month and got beaten within an inch of his life by security. He’s still hooked up to machines in the ICU.”

With that warning, the taxi accelerated into the morning traffic.

Dean watched the car vanish down the avenue, a subtle smile touching his lips. “I’ve always known my place,” he muttered to himself. “It’s just that with ten million dollars sitting in my bank account, my place isn’t at the bottom anymore.”

He glanced down at his scuffed clothes and chuckled softly. “Guess I need to pick up a few designer suits soon. If I’m going to act like a nouveau riche spendthrift, I might as well dress the part.”

As he turned toward the entrance, he noticed the small crowd of prospective buyers entering the grand glass doors.

Every single one of them was draped in tailor-made suits, Armani coats, and expensive jewelry. Standing among them in his cheap sportswear, he looked completely out of place, like a sheep wandering into a pack of wolves.

It was obvious that anyone looking at him would instantly write him off as a broke spectator.

“Hey... kid? What the hell are you doing here?” a sharp voice sneered from behind him.