They Will All Bow To Me!

Chapter 8

Michael slowly opened his eyes after completing a brief breathing exercise, guided by Mira’s words—and the echo of his master’s teachings deep in his heart. “He who conquers himself is the mightiest warrior.” 

The tension drained from his body, and he unclenched his fists. The first sight before him was Mikel’s face—puffed up, arrogant, and just as punchable as the pumpkin heads his master used for target practice. For a moment, he had imagined punching Mikel’s stupid face but was able to control himself. 

A short laugh escaped Michael’s lips. Everyone around—Mikel, the attendants, the baddies, Barry, Jace, and even a few customers—stared in disbelief. Here was the so-called weakling, being mocked and dared to prove himself, and instead of swinging, he was laughing.

Michael looked around, then smiled faintly. “Mikel here…” he began, his calm voice surprising everyone, “…is the one who saved me and my friends from Charger and his men. We owe him gratitude.”

And then, in front of everyone, he clasped his hands together and gave a respectful martial arts bow. “Thank you, Mikel,” he said sincerely.

A thick wave of confusion washed over the crowd. Even Mikel blinked several times, trying to process what just happened. ‘Did he just… thank me?’

Of course, Mikel knew the truth. He wasn’t the one who fought Charger. He wasn’t even there when the chaos unfolded. But now, with Michael’s public declaration, all doubts were erased in the eyes of everyone watching.

Mikel smiled slyly. If the universe wanted to hand him glory, why not take it?

He adjusted his jacket and turned to Jessy. “Let’s check out.”

Jessy’s eyes glimmered with excitement as she scanned his $60,000 worth of purchases, grinning like she had just met a movie star. She didn’t even care that her commission was small; she was already planning her selfies with “the campus hero.” Mikel basked in it, flashing his teeth for the cameras, playing the part of a savior he never was.

Meanwhile, Mira at the second counter was diligently finishing up the boys’ items. Her warm professionalism hadn’t faded a bit. Michael, watching her, asked softly, “That quote you said earlier… where did you get it from?”

Mira smiled, her dimples showing. “Online,” she said, almost too casually.

Michael tilted his head. He knew a lie when he heard one. That calm, composed aura—there was more to this girl than she let on. She was like him: hidden behind a simple face, living quietly, but clearly not ordinary.

Barry and Jace, still stunned, could no longer hold it in. “Mike, what was that back there?” Barry asked as they walked out of the store. “Why would you let that fraud take the credit?”

Michael chuckled. “Relax. Just wait till tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jace frowned. “What’s happening tonight?”

Barry suddenly burst out laughing. “Oh, I get it. You’re brilliant, man! You just gave Mikel the glory—and the consequences!”

Michael smiled but said nothing.

Barry continued, “When Becky Franchester finds out who destroyed her two-million-dollar Bentley, she’ll come for him, not you! Mikel’s about to get a taste of what real trouble looks like.”

Everyone knew how dangerous the Franchesters were. They controlled a major faction of the underground world. Michael had just shifted the unnecessary battle with Becky Franchester to Mikel; whoever comes out on top, he will then deal with. 

The three boys roared with laughter, walking out like victors.

But Michael suddenly stopped. “Wait. I forgot something.”

Barry smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re going back for Mira’s number?”

Michael just grinned and turned back. “Something like that.”

As he stepped back inside, Jessy immediately spotted him. “You again?” she hissed. “Did you forget your sense of shame or your broke friends?”

Her voice was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “I saw your buddies pay. You didn’t even buy a thing! And now you’re back to what? Beg for discounts?”

Michael ignored her and walked toward Mira’s counter. Jessy wasn’t having it. “Answer me when I’m talking to you, broke boy!”

Mira, disturbed, stepped in. “Jessy, please stop. He’s my customer; you have no right to—”

Jessy cut her off. “Mind your tone! I’ve been here for two years. Don’t act like this store belongs to your father.”

Michael kept his calm as he reached Mira’s desk. She smiled apologetically. “What did you forget, sir?”

“I’d like to make another purchase,” he said, placing a slip of paper on her desk. “Deliver these to me and my friends before the graduation party tonight. Add this note.”

Mira nodded politely, but Jessy burst out laughing as she eavesdropped. “Delivery? For what? You don’t even have money for a shirt!”

Michael ignored her again. “Also,” he added, “tell your best stylist to select the finest outfits for us. Use our pictures as reference. Top-tier only.”

Every attendant turned toward him. The air froze.

Mira hesitated. “Sir… the cheapest styling service costs about a million dollars.”

Jessy laughed louder. “A million! You hear that? He can’t afford a belt, but now he’s talking millions!”

Michael tilted his head slightly. “Then upgrade the service. Call the city’s best celebrity stylist. Tell her Michael Scofield needs her.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop. Every attendant’s face went pale. Mira’s hand trembled slightly.

Jessy finally broke the silence with a mocking scoff. “Scofield? Really? You’re not funny, clown. Stop pretending.”

Without a word, Michael reached into his jacket and pulled out a sleek black card. The Scofield crest gleamed faintly in the light.

He handed it to Mira. “Debit fifty million. Get it done. You’ll receive ten percent as your commission.”

Mira froze. Her breath hitched. The other attendants stopped moving altogether. Jessy blinked, thinking she’d misheard.

“You must be joking,” Jessy said shakily. “Swipe it, Mira. Let’s see his fake card decline.”

Mira slowly slid the card through the reader.

Beep.

Transaction successful: $50,000,000 — Michael Scofield.

Gasps filled the store. Someone screamed. Another fainted. And Jessy—she dropped straight to the floor.

Her mind spun. She had just insulted a Scofield. The most powerful family name in the country. She had pushed him aside, mocked him, and called him a “brokie.” Now she’d lost a $5 million commission—and probably her job when her bosses eventually finds out.

By the time Mira looked up to thank Michael, he was already gone.

She rushed outside, calling after him. “Sir! Sir, wait—please!”

But Michael and his friends were already in a taxi, driving away.

Mira stood at the entrance, her heart pounding, realizing what had just happened. Within three weeks of working at that store, she had just earned five million dollars—all because she treated a stranger with respect.