The Super Rich System

They’re Not Here With Good Intentions

Marvin blinked and returned to the present. “Ah, yes. I’m fine,” he said, pouring some water from the bottle into an empty glass and taking a sip.

“You’re right. We haven’t properly introduced ourselves. I’m Marvin,” he said, placing the glass down and extending his hand toward her.

“Emily,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“So, Emily. I want you to come to my shop tomorrow. Once you’re there, we can talk about salary, your duties, and everything else. I’m confident you’ll help take my business to the next level.”

Marvin spoke with absolute certainty, fully trusting what the system had told him.

“Are you really sure, Marvin? Doesn’t this feel risky to you? You barely know me. What if I’m not the right person for the job?” Emily asked.

Marvin smiled and shook his head. “I never pick the wrong person. I just know you’ll help my sales skyrocket.”

Slowly, Emily found herself impressed by how sure he was. He didn’t show even a trace of doubt or hesitation. And honestly, this touched her deeply. Here was someone who trusted and believed in her this much—less than half an hour ago, she had been called useless and shouted down by Damian.

“Alright. I suppose I can stop by your shop tomorrow evening first. After seeing how things are, I’ll decide whether to accept your offer or not,” Emily said.

Marvin beamed with confidence. “Come anytime. Chinatown. Bowl of Heaven. I’ll be waiting for you at seven o’clock.”

…

The next day, five minutes before seven in the evening, Emily was already standing in front of the noodle shop called Bowl of Heaven.

She looked around, feeling rather disappointed. The interior was plain and uninviting. Though there were a few customers and some staff members moving around, the place was far from busy or popular.

Her trained instincts as a business management graduate told her immediately that this shop was not earning much profit.

‘So this is where he wants me to work? I wonder how much he’s planning to pay me?’ she thought, starting to feel unsure.

As if he could read her thoughts, Marvin smiled and handed her a brown envelope.

“This is one-third of your salary. I’m paying part of it in advance so you can start with a clear mind. You’ll get the rest on your regular pay date,” Marvin explained.

Emily took the envelope. When she counted the bills inside, her eyes went wide in shock.

“This… this is five thousand dollars? Does that mean my monthly pay will be… fifteen thousand dollars?” she asked, looking at him in disbelief.

From what she knew, the average salary for restaurant staff in Murndale was only between six and eight thousand dollars a month. Marvin was offering her almost double that amount?

“It can go even higher,” Marvin replied. “If the shop’s sales go above our target, you’ll get extra bonuses. Don’t worry—working here will earn you far more than you ever made at the nightclub.”

Emily stared at him in silence, too stunned to say another word.

Marvin smiled warmly. “I believe in your abilities. You deserve every cent of that salary.”

Emily was truly lost for words. In the end, all she could do was nod, smiling back with deep gratitude.

But this happy moment was suddenly interrupted by the loud roar of engines coming from the street outside. Marvin immediately turned his head toward the entrance, and his expression turned cold and sharp.

“Is something wrong?” Emily asked.

“Someone is coming in. And they’re not here with good intentions,” Marvin answered.

Sure enough, moments later, the front door was pushed open roughly. A man strode inside, followed closely by several others behind him.

The man leading the group wore a silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a thick gold chain around his neck, his hair slicked back, and dark sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Who was it that roughed up my men the other day? Come on, show yourself!” the man shouted loudly.

Marvin glanced briefly toward the counter, where Daniel stood, his face turning pale as he watched the newcomers.

Marvin recognized them immediately—they were the same group of rough-looking men who had visited the shop two days before. He spotted Baron, the burly man he had easily taken down, standing right behind the man in the silk shirt. Baron’s eyes burned with clear hatred.

Marvin stood up and walked straight over to the man in the silk shirt. “That would be me. Now what? Do you want me to beat you up just like I did your men?”

“Hey, watch your mouth, you bastard!!” Baron roared, stepping forward and jabbing a finger aggressively toward Marvin.

Walter—the man in the silk shirt—raised one hand to stop him. Baron immediately halted and stepped back into place, though his gaze remained filled with rage.

“So you’re the one who beat up my men the other day?” Walter asked, stepping closer to Marvin with his chin raised in a challenging manner.

“Yes, that was me,” Marvin replied firmly.

Shhhk!!

In a flash, Walter pulled out a knife, moving with surprising speed.

“Up until now, people who dare to lay hands on my men fall into two categories,” Walter said, lifting the blade and holding it right in front of his own face. “First, those who have no idea who I am. Second, those who know exactly who I am and choose to annoy me anyway. I’m curious which one you are.”

Marvin did not flinch or show the slightest sign of being intimidated. He stared straight into Walter’s eyes, completely ignoring the weapon.

“It doesn’t matter which group I belong to. What matters is that if you’ve come here with the same bad intentions, I’ll do exactly what I did the other day. And if I have to, this time I’ll break both your arms and legs. All of you!” Marvin said sharply, never blinking once.

Baron let out a rough snarl and drew his own knife. His eyes blazed with fury.

Seeing Marvin in danger, Emily—still seated at the table—quietly took out her phone. She hesitated, wondering if she should call the police.

…