Zero to Trillionaire: The Scholar’s God-Tier System

The Luxury Boutique

The Diamond District was a place I used to avoid. Even walking on the sidewalk here made me feel like I was trespassing. Everything was too clean, too bright, and smelled like expensive leather and money.

I parked the a block away. I didn't want to make too much of a scene yet. I was still wearing my damp hoodie and my old sneakers. I looked like a guy who had just finished a shift at a warehouse, not someone with thirteen million dollars in the bank.

I stopped in front of a store called L'Eclat. It was the kind of place where the door stayed locked until a security guard in a suit decided you looked rich enough to enter. Inside, I could see gold-plated racks and crystal chandeliers that probably cost more than my entire tuition.

I pushed the door. It was locked.

A security guard with a headset looked at me through the glass. He saw my messy hair and my cheap clothes, and he just shook his head. He didn't even come to the door. He just pointed at a sign that said By Appointment Only and turned his back on me.

I didn't leave. I just waited.

A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman in a sharp silk dress walked to the door to let out a wealthy couple. As they left, I caught the door with my foot and stepped inside.

The smell of the place hit me immediately—sandalwood and success.

"Excuse me!"

The woman in the silk dress turned around. She had a name tag that said Elena. She looked at my shoes like they were covered in mud, even though they were clean. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Sir, you can't be in here," Elena said. Her voice was sharp, like she was talking to a stray dog that had wandered into a palace. "This is a private boutique. The thrift store is three blocks down and to the left."

"I'm looking for a suit," I said. I kept my voice calm. I didn't get angry. When you have ten million dollars, you don't need to yell.

Elena let out a short, nasty laugh. She looked at the other salesgirls, who were all giggling behind the counter.

"A suit?" she asked, leaning against a marble pillar. "Do you have any idea where you are? The socks in this store cost four hundred dollars. That's more than your entire outfit she said lightly. And honestly? Still better quality. That hoodie you're wearing... I wouldn't even use it to mop the floors in the back."

"I didn't ask for your opinion on my clothes," I said, walking toward a charcoal-grey suit on a mannequin. "I asked to see a suit."

Elena stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Don't touch that! She ran over and practically slapped my hand away. She looked like I had just tried to set the store on fire.

"That’s hand stitched wool from Italy!" she shouted. "If you get your sweat or your cheap student germs on it, we can't sell it. Look at yourself, kid. You’re making the whole store look like a dump and making the real customers uncomfortable just by standing here. Why don't you go to a thrift store? You’d fit in much better there."

She pointed to a man in the corner who was trying on a watch. I recognized him instantly. It was Silas Thorne—Professor Sarah’s father. He was a regular here, a man who owned half the real estate in the city. He looked at me and frowned, clearly not liking the trash in his favorite store.

"Elena, what is this?" Silas asked. His voice was deep and super arrogant. "Why is there a beggar in the shop while I’m trying to get fitted?"

"I’m so sorry, Mr. Thorne," Elena said, her voice suddenly becoming sweet and fake. She bowed her head to him like he was a king. "He just wandered in. He’s a student who thinks he can buy a suit here. I was just about to kick him out."

Silas let out a dry, nasty laugh. He finally turned around to look at me, but his eyes were bored, like I was a piece of trash on the sidewalk. "Northwood used to be a good school. Now it seems they let just anyone in. Young man, you're ruining the vibe of this place. People like you... you don't belong here. You're out of place."

He turned back to the mirror and waved his hand like he was shooing away a fly. "Get rid of him, Elena. My time is worth too much to spend it breathing the same air as a charity case."

Elena turned back to me, and she looked even meaner now because a billionaire was on her side. She stepped right into my space and poked a finger at my chest.

"You heard Mr. Thorne," she whispered, her voice full of hate. "This shirt I’m wearing? It’s pure silk. It costs more than your life. It costs more than your mom’s house. You don’t belong here, and you definitely don’t belong at a Gala with people like the Thornes."

The other girl stepped up, too. "I’ve already called security. They’re coming up from the lobby right now. If you aren't out that door in ten seconds, they’re going to drag you out in handcuffs for trespassing. We know who you are, 'Scholar-Pauper.' Now move!"

I stood there, surrounded by the smell of expensive perfume and the mean stares of people who thought I was nothing. I looked at Silas Thorne, who was ignoring me again. I looked at Elena, who was smirking, waiting for me to cry or run away.

But I didn't move. I felt a cold, calm feeling in my chest.

[Ding! Mission: The Shopping Face-Slap.]

[Objective: Take down the arrogant staff and buy the whole place.]

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I didn't look at Elena.

"I’m going to give you one chance to say you’re sorry," I said. My voice was very quiet and very steady.

Elena blinked. She looked confused for a second, then she got even angrier. "Sorry? To you? You little—"

"Five seconds," I said, looking at the clock on the wall.

"Security!" Elena yelled, pointing at the door. "Get him out of here! Now!"