The Domination Of Young Master Luke

Chapter 8 - Is Clothing The Basis Of Wealth?

It was already past eleven when Luke arrived at Light Metrobank.

Before entering, he noticed two guards stationed at both sides of the entrance. They were tall, broad-shouldered men wearing sunglasses, each holding a shotgun with a handgun strapped to their waist. Fortunately, they paid him no attention, so Luke walked past them without issue.

As soon as he stepped through the revolving door, a beautiful woman greeted him.

They were nearly the same height. She had slightly curly jet-black hair that complemented her tan complexion. The name ‘Monique’ was embroidered on the right side of her uniform. She was a bank teller.

Before she could fully approach him, she stopped. Her expression shifted as her eyes swept over Luke from head to toe.

“What is this man doing in a place like this?” she muttered in disgust. Her voice was low, but Luke heard it clearly.

“Is there a problem, miss?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you need?” Monique fired back. “Are you lost? Do you even know where you are? Are you here to beg for lunch money? Do you see what’s written on the wall behind me?” she asked, pointed at the massive Light Metrobank logo behind the reception desk.

“Wait, I’m here to—” Luke started, but Monique interrupted him.

“Yes, it’s Light. Met. Ro. Bank,” she said sharply. “Can’t you read?”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“Then get out,” she snapped, ignoring what he said. Her voice was low, but her irritation was obvious.

‘How dare he enter a place like this? When did this place become a tourist spot?’

And Luke wasn't even looked like a tourist in the first place. Not even close.

If other clients saw him, it could damage the bank’s reputation. This bank catered exclusively to the wealthy. Letting someone like him roam around could lead to complaints.

And since Monique was assigned to the entrance, she would be the one held responsible.

Luke’s expression hardened slightly. He sighed.

“Can you let me explain?” he said calmly. “I’m here to see Mr. Louis Rivera. Could you please inform him that someone is looking for him?”

“What?” Monique sneered. “You’re looking for the Senior Manager?”

“Yes,” Luke replied casually, shrugging.

Monique did not know whether to laugh or lose her temper. What worried her most was the possibility of the Manager seeing Luke and blaming her for it.

She pulled out her wallet, took a ten-dollar bill, and shoved it toward Luke.

“What’s this?” Luke asked.

“Money, obviously. Now leave. Don’t tell me that’s not enough,” she said impatiently.

Luke frowned. Of course he knew exactly what it was. What he wanted to know was why she had handed him a ten-dollar bill?

‘Does she really think I’m here to beg?’ he thought, somehow annoyed.

At the same time he almost laughed.

‘So clothing really determined how people treated you now. Huh.’

He sighed and scanned the area, hoping to find someone else to talk to. Luckily, he spotted another teller at the reception desk.

“What are you waiting for? Get lost,” Monique hissed, pointing at the exit.

Luke ignored her. He returned the money and walked toward the counter.

Monique blinked several times, nearly missing the bill Luke tossed back at her.

‘Is this guy serious?’

She rushed in front of him again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted. “Guard!”

Within moments, a guard arrived. He glanced at Luke and immediately assumed he was not a client.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed inside,” the guard said firmly.

Luke ignored him and called out to the woman behind the counter who was on the phone.

“Excuse me, miss.”

She glanced at him briefly, then returned her attention to her call.

That was the last straw.

Was clothing really the only basis for respect now?

At that moment, two men walked past them, chatting casually. They stopped when they noticed the commotion.

“What’s going on here?” asked one of them, a middle-aged man in a black suit.

Luke narrowed his eyes slightly when he saw the younger man beside him. That face felt familiar.

‘Have we met before?’ he wondered.

The middle-aged man’s expression changed the moment his eyes landed on Luke.

“M-Mr. Baltazar!” Monique blurted out in a trembling voice.

Her fear deepened when the man shot her a sharp glare before shifting his gaze to Luke, his brows drawn tightly together.

He did not say a word, but his stare spoke volumes. It was filled with judgment.

The man was Noel Baltazar, the bank manager.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Baltazar,” Monique hurriedly explained, her voice shaking. “I did everything I could to stop this man from entering, b-but—”

She stopped mid-sentence when Noel gestured for her to come closer. Monique immediately complied, taking quick, short steps toward him.

“Listen to me,” Noel said in a low voice. “Do you see who the man beside me is right now?”

Monique glanced at the man next to Noel. She did not recognize him. His face was unfamiliar, probably a first-time visitor to the bank. Still, at first glance alone, she could tell he was incredibly wealthy.

“That’s right,” Noel said, as if reading her thoughts. “He’s the son of one of Light Metrobank’s top clients. This is the kind of person we allow inside this bank.”

Then he pointed subtly toward Luke. “So why is someone like that inside the building?”

Luke raised an eyebrow at the remark, his shoulders relaxing instead of stiffening. Even though Noel was whispering, the words were clearly meant for him to hear. He could not help but feel disappointed by the manager’s attitude.

Monique fell silent and lowered her head. She had already said all she could. Repeating herself would only make things worse.

“You,” Noel said to the guard standing near Luke. “Escort him out.”

Then he turned to Monique. “And you. We’ll talk later.”

Monique said nothing. She simply accepted her fate. She shot Luke an annoyed glare.

This is all because of this guy.

“Let’s go to the office, Mr. Gregory,” Noel said with a polite smile to the man beside him. “Just ignore them.”

Luke frowned. Mr. Gregory?

He almost laughed when realization hit him.

So that was who the man was.

How did it not occur to him earlier? No wonder the face felt somehow familiar.

‘Is he that jerk’s brother? What a coincidence.’

“Wait a second,” Luke called out calmly.

Noel and his companion stopped.

“This woman forgot to tell you something,” Luke said casually. “I’m here to meet Mr. Louis Rivera. We have something important to discuss.”

His tone was flat and unbothered. He clearly did not care what they thought of him or his plain clothes.

Noel froze. So did the man beside him.

Noel slowly turned around, eyes narrowing as he studied Luke, replaying the words in his head.

The younger man suddenly chuckled. He looked Luke up and down, openly sizing him up.

‘Who is this guy fooling? Even I, the son of the fourth richest family in Quezon, couldn’t get Mr. Rivera to spare me time. And this guy thinks he can?’ A mocking grin spread across his face as he crossed his arms.

“Care to repeat that?” Noel said, tilting his head and cupping a hand to his ear in open ridicule.

Luke’s patience finally snapped. “I told you, I’m here to meet Mr. Louis Rivera. Did I say it too softly, or are you just… deaf?”