Chapter 3: Buying Respect

"Status," Jude said aloud.

A panel immediately materialized in the air in front of him. It hovered just above the edge of his bed.

[Host: Jude Lawson]

[Wealth: $12,820,042.00]

[Physical Attributes]

- Strength: 15

- Agility: 12

- Endurance: 14

*(Note: Average Adult Male is 10)*

[Available Attribute Points: 5]

[Inventory: Platinum VIP Shopping Card x1]

Jude stared at the text. Physical attributes? He didn’t hesitate. He allocated three points to Strength and two to Agility.

The moment he confirmed the selection, a rush of searing heat washed over his body.

His muscles tensed, expanding slightly under his skin, and his vision sharpened to a razor’s edge.

The dull ache in his lower back vanished completely. He felt lighter, stronger, and more alive than he had in a decade.

He slept like the dead that night.

The next morning, Jude stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in his suite. He was still wearing the same cheap suit he had been fired in. It was out of place in the lavish surroundings of the Obsidian Grand.

If he was going to live like a king, he needed to look the part.

After a massive room-service breakfast, Jude took the hotel’s complimentary town car to the Zenith District, a high-end shopping avenue lined with flagship designer stores.

He stepped out in front of *Aurelius*, a hyper-exclusive menswear boutique renowned for dressing A-list actors and billionaire tech moguls.

Three impeccably dressed employees were standing near the cashmere display. They took one collective look at Jude’s scuffed shoes, frayed lapels, and off-the-rack shirt. Instantly, they looked away, resuming their conversation as if he were invisible.

To them, it was obvious. Jude was either a lost tourist or a nobody hoping to snap a quick photo for social media. He certainly didn’t belong in a store where a simple leather belt cost more than his car.

Jude ignored their blatant dismissal and began browsing the racks.

His eyes landed on a stunning midnight-blue bespoke blazer displayed on a velvet mannequin. He reached out to feel the material.

"Excuse me," Jude called out, waving a hand toward the group of employees. "Could I get some assistance over here?"

One of the men, a tall stylist with a trimmed beard and a nametag that read *Julian*, let out a quiet sigh.

He reluctantly detached himself from his colleagues and strolled over, his expression carefully wiped of everything except boredom.

"Yes?" Julian asked, not bothering to offer a greeting.

"I like the cut of this blazer," Jude said, gesturing to the mannequin. "What are my options for a full suit in this style?"

Julian offered a tight smile. "For a full suit? Sir, that particular piece is crafted from vicuña wool. It is our most exclusive seasonal item. The blazer alone is twenty-two thousand dollars."

"I didn’t ask the price," Jude said mildly. "I asked what my options were."

Julian let out a short, condescending laugh. "Look, let me be blunt so we don’t waste each other’s time. We don’t offer payment plans. We don’t have a discount rack. If you’re looking for something affordable for a job interview, there’s a department store three blocks down the street."

Jude frowned. He had spent years working in high-end retail, and he knew exactly how much pressure there was to qualify customers. But this wasn’t qualifying; this was just blatant disrespect.

"I asked a simple question about the suit," Jude said. "Does my question mean I can’t afford it?"

"Your clothes mean you can’t afford it," Julian snapped. He looked Jude up and down with open disgust. "You walked into a boutique wearing a polyester suit that looks like it was dug out of a donation bin. Do you honestly expect me to treat you like a VIP?"

A few other customers in the store glanced over, their brows furrowing at the commotion, but Julian didn’t seem to care. He crossed his arms.

"It’s your job to assist customers," Jude said. "If you don’t want to do your job, I suggest you hand over your measuring tape and go home."

Julian’s face flushed with anger. "Are you kidding me? Why should I waste my morning humoring a broke window-shopper? If I don’t like the look of someone who clearly can’t afford our inventory, I don’t have to serve them!"

Jude glanced at the other two employees. They were watching the scene with indifferent expressions, making zero effort to step in or de-escalate.

"Fine," Jude said, shaking his head. He pointed at the midnight-blue display. "I want that suit. Complete set. Shirt, tie, trousers, blazer. The highest-tier fabric you have in the back. Bring it out."

Julian sneered, rolling his eyes. "Who are you trying to impress, man? A full bespoke set from that line is thirty-five thousand dollars. Plus tax. You want me to ring it up? Prove you can pay for it first."

Jude didn’t say a word. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Platinum VIP Shopping Card the system had rewarded him with last night.

He tossed it onto the display counter.

Julian stared at the card. He had never seen one quite like it, but it looked expensive. Still, he was convinced this was a bluff. The guy was probably trying to max out five different credit cards just to save face.

"Alright," Julian said. "If you want to play games and embarrass yourself, follow me to the register."

Julian marched over to the main terminal, punched in the total for the flagship set, and snatched the Platinum card off the counter.

He slammed it against the contactless reader, fully expecting the machine to scream *DECLINED* so he could happily kick Jude out of the store.

*BEEP.*

*Payment Approved.*

*Amount Processed: $37,850.00.*

Julian froze. All the color drained from his face as the receipt printer instantly began whirring, spitting out the long slip of paper.

He stared at the receipt. Then, he slowly looked up at Jude, who was leaning against the counter.

Jude had actually paid in full. Thirty-seven thousand dollars, swiped in a single second, without even a blink.

The other employees in the store exchanged shocked glances. The "broke" guy in the cheap suit actually had cash?

Despite the undeniable proof, Julian’s ego refused to let him back down. He swallowed hard, quickly regaining his sneer.

"Well," Julian said, his voice dripping with venom as he handed the card back. "Congratulations. You successfully bought a suit. I hope it was worth draining your entire life savings just to prove a point to a retail worker. Have fun eating instant noodles in your studio apartment for the next ten years."

The other two employees chuckled quietly from the corner.

It made sense. People did crazy, financially ruinous things when their pride was damaged.

Jude pulled out one of the chairs near the fitting rooms, sat down, and crossed his legs.

"I have a business proposition," Jude said calmly. "Go get your store manager."

Julian scowled. "What are you talking about? You bought your suit. We’re done here. I’m not bothering my manager just because you want to complain about my attitude."

"If you don’t bring him out here right now," Jude said, "I will sit here until he walks the floor himself. And when he does, the consequences for you will be far worse than a simple complaint."

Before Julian could fire back another insult, the door to the back office swung open.

A sharply dressed man in his fifties stepped out, holding a tablet. He looked up and frowned. "Julian? What is going on out here?"

"Manager Caldwell," Julian said quickly, stepping in front of Jude. "This customer is causing a scene. He made a purchase, but now he’s refusing to leave and demanding to see you."

Caldwell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stepped around Julian to address the problematic customer directly.

"Sir, I must ask you to—"

Caldwell stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened behind his glasses, and his mouth fell open slightly.

"Wait," Caldwell breathed. "Is... is it you, sir?"

Jude raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Do we know each other?"

Caldwell immediately tucked his tablet under his arm and sprinted forward, bowing at the waist.

"Mr. Lawson!" Caldwell said. "What an absolute honor! I was having my morning espresso in the lobby of the Obsidian Grand two hours ago. I saw the General Manager himself carrying your breakfast tray to the private elevator! Anyone who commands that level of respect from the Obsidian is royalty in this district!"

Julian’s jaw hit the floor. The Obsidian Grand? The General Manager acting as a *busboy* for this guy?

Jude smiled faintly. The system’s influence really did work in mysterious, convenient ways. "Ah. You saw that, did you?"

"Yes, sir! My name is Caldwell. I run this flagship location," the manager said, sweating. "Are you here to update your wardrobe?"

"I was," Jude said, leaning back in his chair and gesturing lazily toward Julian. "In fact, I have a massive corporate acquisition coming up. I was planning to purchase this season’s entire catalogue for myself, and commission fifty bespoke suits for my new executive board."

Caldwell’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs.

That was a multi-million dollar transaction. It would make their quarterly quota in a single afternoon!

"However," Jude continued, "your stylist here just informed me that I look like a broke window-shopper, and suggested I spend the next ten years eating instant noodles. So, I’m thinking I might just take my business to the Italian boutique across the street."