Lust System: I will Cuck Everyone

"Just please stand back, everyone," the brunette warned, waving a manicured hand to shoo a teenager away from the front bumper. "The custom paint job alone costs more than your houses, and my man will throw a massive fit if anyone leaves fingerprints on the carbon fiber."

Rick stood near the back of the crowd, listening to the two broke girls spin their pathetic web of lies, finding the sheer audacity of their delusion hilarious.

They had just spent the morning trying to trade sexual favors to escape a fifty-thousand-dollar yacht repair bill, yet here they were, standing in front of a hypercar they could not even afford to look at, acting like aristocratic heirs.

Rick cracked his knuckles, deciding it was time to teach these ignorant frogs a brutal lesson in reality.

He took slow, heavy steps forward, parting the crowd of onlookers, radiating a cold, oppressive aura that made people instinctively step aside.

Chloe was busy fixing her lip gloss in the reflection of the tinted windshield, but as she turned her head to pose for another photo, her eyes locked onto the tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a plain black t-shirt and faded denim jeans.

Her fake, arrogant smile vanished instantly, replaced by a deep scowl of pure, unfiltered disgust, as she recognized the exact same "broke street rat" who had ruined her sleazy deal with Manager Miao on the docks just an hour ago.

"You?!" Chloe shrieked, pointing a sharp acrylic nail directly at Rick’s chest, her high-pitched voice piercing the murmurs of the crowd. "What the hell are you doing here, you filthy beggar?!"

The crowd went silent, turning their heads to look at Rick, wondering why the supposed billionaire’s fiancée was yelling at a man in casual clothes.

"Did you follow us from the pier just to harass us?!" the brunette sneered maliciously, stepping forward to defend her friend, crossing her arms to push her cleavage up. "You really do not know when to quit, do you? I told you earlier, a toad lusting after swan meat will only end up crushed!"

Rick did not get angry, stopping just a few feet away from the front bumper of his car, keeping his face deadpan and emotionless.

"I am just trying to reach my vehicle," Rick stated lazily, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Chloe let out a loud, obnoxious bark of laughter, throwing her head back to make sure the entire crowd witnessed her asserting dominance.

"Your vehicle?!" Chloe mocked crudely, looking Rick up and down with intense judgment, treating him like a rotting piece of garbage. "Are you delusional, or just naturally stupid?! Look at your cheap boots and your faded shirt! A poor peasant like you couldn’t even afford to buy a single lug nut on this machine!"

"This hypercar belongs to my billionaire fiancé!" Chloe announced proudly to the onlookers, using the lie as a shield. "This street rat is just a jealous, uneducated loser who got mad because we rejected his pathetic advances on the boardwalk earlier!"

The crowd began to murmur, casting judging glances at Rick, easily swayed by Chloe’s confident lies and the sheer contrast between Rick’s plain attire and the multi-million-dollar car.

"Kid, you should probably step back," an older man in a polo shirt warned Rick, shaking his head. "If her fiancé really owns this marina, you are courting death by causing a scene near his car."

"Yeah, look at the massive scratch on the side," another bystander pointed out, whispering to his friend. "If the owner catches this guy standing too close, he will probably blame him for the damage and break his legs."

Rick let out a low, carrying chuckle, finding the stupidity of the crowd almost as entertaining as the girls’ fake flex.

"Your fiancé’s car?" Rick asked smoothly, taking one step closer, locking his dark, predatory eyes onto Chloe’s flushed face. "That is very interesting, considering you claimed this machine had an Italian V12 engine."

Chloe bristled, planting her hands on her hips, refusing to back down in front of her newly acquired audience.

"It does!" Chloe insisted stubbornly, raising her chin. "My man told me all about it!"

"The Koenigsegg Gemera houses a twin-turbocharged, two-liter, three-cylinder engine paired with three electric motors, generating seventeen hundred horsepower," Rick corrected effortlessly, his deep voice carrying across the parking lot, dropping basic automotive facts that dismantled her lie in seconds. "It is engineered in Sweden, not Italy."

A few car enthusiasts in the crowd immediately gasped, nodding their heads in rapid agreement, realizing Rick actually knew what he was talking about.

"He is right!" the young man with the camera shouted, looking at Chloe with sudden suspicion. "It is a hybrid hypercar from Sweden! How could your fiancé not know the specs of his own thirty-million-dollar vehicle?"

Chloe’s face turned a violent shade of red, a bead of cold sweat forming on her forehead, as she realized her lie was rapidly unraveling in front of a dozen recording smartphones.

"He... he must have misspoken!" Chloe stammered defensively, waving her hands to brush off the accusation, acting like a cornered rat. "Why am I even explaining myself to a broke kitchen rat?! Security! Somebody call the marina guards to remove this peasant before he tries to key my car!"

"You don’t need to call security," Rick sneered, reaching into the pocket of his denim jeans. "Because I am leaving right now."

Rick pulled out the heavy, sleek carbon-fiber key fob, holding it up slightly so the sunlight caught the legendary Koenigsegg shield emblem resting on the metal.

Chloe’s breath hitched in her throat, her eyes tracking the key in his hand, a sudden, chilling spike of dread piercing her chest as her brain desperately tried to deny reality.

Rick did not say another word. He simply pressed the heavy unlock button with his rough thumb.

BEEP! BEEP!

The hypercar’s golden indicator lights flashed twice in rapid succession, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

With a smooth, heavy hydraulic hiss, the massive dihedral synchro-helix doors swept violently upward, gliding open to reveal the pristine, ultra-luxurious dark leather interior of the cabin.

The entire VIP parking lot fell into a dead, horrifying silence.

The sound of the ocean breeze rushing past the docks was the only noise in the air, as every single person in the crowd stared at the open doors, their jaws physically dropping to the asphalt.

Chloe stood frozen against the hood of the car, her fake eyelashes fluttering rapidly, as all the blood drained from her face, leaving her looking like a sick ghost.

The broke street rat she had spent the entire morning insulting, mocking, and calling a peasant was the sole owner of the thirty-million-dollar hypercar she was using to fake her wealth.

"N-no... That’s impossible," the brunette friend whispered pathetically, her knees knocking together, taking a staggering step away from the vehicle as the crushing weight of their humiliation set in.

The crowd finally processed the reality of the situation, recovering from their shock as the atmosphere instantly flipped from tense curiosity to ruthless mockery.

"Oh my god! They don’t even know the owner!" a woman in the crowd shrieked, bursting into loud, hysterical laughter, pointing her smartphone directly at Chloe’s pale face.

"She literally just claimed her fiancé bought the marina!" the teenager laughed maliciously, clutching his stomach. "What a pathetic plastic gold-digger! She was posing on a stranger’s car for Instagram likes!"

"Look at her face!" the older man scoffed in pure disgust. "She acted like a queen, but she is just a fake, broke clown trying to steal another man’s face!"

The brutal, unfiltered laughter and mocking insults rained down on the two girls like a heavy storm, shattering their fragile egos into a million tiny pieces.

Chloe’s face burned a dark, furious crimson, tears of pure, agonizing humiliation welling up in her eyes, as she realized her face was currently being broadcasted to dozens of social media feeds as the ultimate joke.

She did not try to apologize, nor did she try to defend herself.

Chloe grabbed her beach bag off the pavement, covered her red face with her hands, and literally sprinted away from the Koenigsegg, her bare feet slapping loudly against the asphalt as she fled the parking lot in absolute shame.

Her brunette friend let out a panicked sob, turning on her heels and running right after her, leaving behind a chorus of mocking cheers and whistling from the entertained crowd.

Rick shook his head, highly amused by the swift delivery of karma, stepping past the laughing tourists to slide into the low-slung driver’s seat of his hypercar.

He reached up, pulling the heavy dihedral door shut, sealing himself inside the quiet, luxurious cabin.

[Ding! Quest Completed: The Ultimate Face-Slap!] [Objective: You flawlessly exposed the fake gold-diggers, letting the public crush their arrogant delusions without lifting a single finger!] [Reward: +800 Mischief Points!]

Rick smirked at the glowing blue text, pressing the heavy ignition button on the center console.

The twin-turbocharged V8 engine roared to life, unleashing a beastly mechanical scream that echoed off the nearby administration building.

Rick steered the machine out of the VIP slot, tearing out of the Azure Harbor Marina and accelerating down the coastal highway, devouring the miles as he headed back to the Peninsula Hotel to sharpen his cleavers for the impending war.