Yes, sir. I'll bring it to you.”Hannah stood behind Ernest, so he didn't know how focused she had been since the moment he stepped into the shop. Now she smiled in silence, going to the opposite area to prepare an icy water cup, as if she had pretended Ernest's choice.Unlike the employee who had scolded Ernest, Hannah was conscious and smart enough to figure out who the real VIP was.Aniston Stella had been unmarketable for about a year—the moment when Friesta had launched and taken away all their ‘loyal’ customers. Hannah had to know exactly who her customers could be.There had been lots of people wearing fancy clothes, showing how wealthy they were, but they had just tried to find more reasons to buy the shop's clothes cheaper and cheaper.But who the hell would sell a silk skirt for just three dollars?Hannah had to learn the differences between the actual wealthy people and the fake ones, but not based on the appearance. Their expressions, their attitude, and even the way they
In the other corner, Hannah realized that the situation, despite its weirdness, was worse than expected. She stepped out, thinking of some way to ease Ernest’s anger, because they couldn't provoke this wealthy (and weird) customer. But right at that moment, the poor employee heard Ernest shouting.“Screw it, Steven! Twenty thousand dollars is not even enough for a tiny meal, why the hell are you always refusing as if it's a big amount?”Hannah stopped. Ernest's words echoed in her ears like a curse.‘Twenty thousand dollars is not even enough for a tiny meal’?So that's a corner revealed of the rich’s life?Hannah looked at her colleagues, seeing the familiar bewilderment reflected in his eyes.It’s enough bewilderment. Hannah stepped back. She would never poke her nose into this argument. She—the woman who couldn't even buy a tiny meal costing twenty thousand dollars—was not deserved. Hannah's better go back, or else she would not be able to look straight at her dinner.The argument
However, five minutes had gone since Ernest bought a huge load of clothes, and his brain just thought of only one thing.A machine gun.If you were going to be dead tonight, why wouldn't you buy a machine gun and go back shooting the damn shop owner—Steven Smith? Ernest himself would go to hell for murder, but Steven would be there for indirectly killing him!!!Fuck.Once again, Ernest sat on the street with money, but was not even able to blurt out a bad word with his mouth, because he was still muted for another ten minutes.Though all the words above were just a moment of complaining, maybe he should buy a gu-“Thanks God, finally we found you, Mr. Eswaranski!”Ernest looked up, seeing the comer. Oh? That was the director Ernest had met in the morning, and his name was, hmm, Matthew? Morris? Or Miller?There were two people coming with him, all of whom were exhausted, breathing as if they had just a running contest.One was Ashley, yeah, Ernest remembered his name thanks to his arr
The first time ever, Michael felt how hard it was in negotiation. Though the legendary last name Eswaranski had turned twenty thousand dollars into something more realistic than just a daydream, it's still a dangerous investment.Thirty percent was high and safe enough for both investor and the project manager, right?Didn't he think that it was still… low? Was he crazy?Thinking so, Michael asked. “So, you mean 40% would be better?”Ernest glanced at Michael without a word, but this time, Ernest’s emotion was not good as it was at the beginning. He put the black card on the table, right on the contract, finger started scratching the table.Forty percent? What the heck was that man saying? There had been thirty and Ernest just wanted to remove it, so why the hell did he think that forty would be better?Fck the damn punishment! Why muting him? Why???Now Ernest could neither say that he refused this contract nor gesture that he was temporarily dumb! He could do nothing, and Michael—ye
On the way looking for Ernest, James had been complaining that he had to pay the bank officer five hundred dollars but received just one sentence: that Ernest came from the Eswaranski family — which had already shown in his full name.Michael remembered how he had replied to James with a gentle look—exactly what his grandfather had done in his memory.“Do you know what the ratio is to give birth to a genius, raise them to be a good person, and make sure that they would do something big to help this world?”“It was about zero, because most of us can't even imagine that, let alone taking it into action and solving all the possible problems to reach that goal.”“But in the Eswaranski clan, that ratio was ninety-nine to one hundred. Do you know what it means?” Michael looked at Ashley and James’ bewildered faces, “99% to be geniuses, and the other 1% were… monsters.”“But what is a monster?” Ashley had asked him that, but Michael just shook his head in silence.A supernaturally smart guy?
What was happening?The landlord couldn't expect this twist. She was confused for a moment, “What are you saying?”Ernest scratched his matted hair, yawning, “Just wait for five minutes, I have to brush my teeth before showing you what the damn problem had happened to me last night.”The landlord narrowed her eyebrows. She was the type of person who couldn't suffer any negative comments about her assets, even though everyone found it terrible. She was provoked, and her voice was high-note.“What the fuck are you talking about, Ernest? You’ve been living here, in my apartment for three years, you know how good it actually is. And now you insult my flat this way and threaten to leave?”Ernest, who was still brushing his teeth at the toilet, immediately went out with his frothy mouth.“Who the hell would be that silly to insult you if this flat is okay? Why don't you think that there must be some actual problems? There are ghosts in this damn room and they scared me all night long!”He w
“Here you are.” Yvonne put the hot bowl on the table, interrupting his line of thoughts, “Rice dumplings, like thousands of times before. And remember to pay me this time, or I'll kill you.”Ernest nodded, picking up the chopsticks, and keeping on creating his plan. Though everyone said that cutting off a tree was always easier than growing them, Ernest needed a detailed plan—or he would be slammed dead by that tree itself.To waste the money, Ernest needed a better identity, so that he could gain trust and conduct his plan.He thought so, eating a dumpling and let his plan spread as the shrimp flavor did all over his mouth.But, how would Ernest do that with just a black card? You couldn't defeat an army by just waving a flag. At least you needed a ghost company showing that you're ‘trustworthy’, and if you're penniless, you couldn't even hire an idiot to take part in your scamming career.Ernest ate another rice dumpling, and suddenly, a sound echoed in his mind. A notification foll
All in a sudden, a female loud voice immediately echoed in the space. “I refuse to work with him! Mr. Durkheim, if you don't cancel your stupid cooperation, I'll leave and tell my father about this!”Ernest looked at the girl coming. She walked from the door behind Ernest, and followed by two girls who looked like her assistants.Despite his ex-girlfriend and murderer being a gorgeous girl, Ernest had to admit that this girl was even more beautiful than his ex. She got long reddish wavy hair, blue eyes, and a hot body which could draw all men’s attention under the sporty clothes.Ernest stared at her for a second later, then slowly turned his eyes away. This girl’s chest was heaving as if her two giant bouncing balls could escape from her crop top anytime, and Ernest couldn't let his eyes stare at them like a pervert.He was there to start a new job as a director and producer, and moreover, Ernest was fighting not to be dead.Ernest had to be tougher, so, don't, just don't stare at th