Early in the morning, after preparing breakfast for Colin, Monica left the mansion. She needed to pick up her elder sister and younger twin sisters to go shopping.
She had originally planned to hail a taxi, but Colin casually mentioned that she could take any car from the garage.
"You've got a driver's license, don't you? Feel free to use whichever you like," he had said.
At first, Monica was thrilled—her heart leapt at the thought of driving one of his cars. But almost immediately, reason kicked in.
Did he really mean it? Could she just… take one?
Caution won over excitement. In the end, she decided to stick with her plan and take a cab.
From the dining table, Colin watched her departing figure. She was always so careful—terrified that even the smallest mistake might upset him.
He wasn't exactly a saint, but he wasn't that petty either. He genuinely wanted her to pick one of his cars and drive it off in style—to show off a little, maybe slap the faces of those who once looked down on her.
It would've been fun to watch.
But she was just too cautious.
Such a waste, he thought, sipping his coffee. It would've been the perfect morning show—classic underdog-turned-winner moment.
Then a thought struck him. If I want to see it happen… why not make it happen myself?
"Alright," Colin murmured, standing up. "Let's do this."
In a flash, he arrived at his garage and selected one of his prized limited-edition cars—a one-of-a-kind masterpiece built at obscene cost. A machine forged purely for extravagance, for turning heads and sparking envy.
Perfect for a show.
He slid behind the wheel, revved the engine, and the car roared to life—an untamed beast screaming through the morning air.
Before Monica even reached the front gate, the thunder of the engine made her turn around.
Colin pulled up in front of her, the sleek car glinting in the sunlight.
"Good morning, sir," Monica said politely. "Are you heading out?"
Without a word, Colin stepped out, tossed her the keys, and smiled.
"Go on. Drive it—and show them up."
Monica blinked, caught completely off guard.
"Show them up…?" she echoed, dazed.
But then the meaning sank in.
He knew. He knew about her past—about the humiliation she'd endured back in high school.
She'd come from a poor family, earning scholarships to lighten the financial burden. But good grades had earned her only scorn and bullying. Her classmates had labeled her a "nerd," treating her like she was beneath them.
The one who tormented her most had been a neighbor's daughter—someone who'd made her youth miserable.
And now, here was Colin, telling her to go back and show them how far she'd come.
She tightened her grip on the keys, her eyes shimmering as she watched Colin stride away. Her heart swelled with determination—and gratitude. I'll work even harder from now on, she thought.
Back at the table, Colin chuckled to himself.
Go on, Monica. I want to see the look on their faces.
There was never a shortage of entertainment in this world, after all. People were always out there, stirring up drama, feeding him an endless buffet of amusement. He didn't even have to leave his home—just sit back and eat melon seeds while watching the world unfold.
Monica started the engine, and the car tore down the street toward her old neighborhood.
Thanks to her job with Colin, she'd been able to lift her family's living conditions considerably. When she pulled up, the luxury car's roar drew everyone's attention—neighbors craning their necks, eyes widening in disbelief.
That car… is stunning.
As she stepped out, her gaze drifted toward a small courtyard nearby. There, standing in a faded floral dress, was her former classmate—the very girl who'd once mocked and bullied her.
Rumor had it her life hadn't gone well. That thought brought Monica a quiet, guilty satisfaction.
She parked and went inside to call for her sisters and elder sister.
Meanwhile, a small crowd had gathered outside.
"That looks like one of Colin the billionaire's cars," a young man whispered.
Colin's reputation preceded him—more flamboyant and arrogant than even Bruce Wayne. Almost everyone in the city knew his name.
The woman in the floral dress frowned. "That car must be expensive."
"Expensive? It's insane. The production cost alone was in the hundreds of millions," another murmured.
A hush fell over the group.
Someone finally muttered, "Didn't we… used to bully her?"
The silence deepened. The air turned heavy. They all remembered how they'd sneered, mocked, and dismissed her as nothing more than a pathetic little bookworm.
And now that same "nobody" was driving a car worth more than they'd ever earn in ten lifetimes.
The shift in status burned. Jealousy clawed at their hearts, but they forced calm smiles, pretending it didn't sting.
"I mean," one man said weakly, "if I had that kind of money, I'd use it to help people."
A timid voice replied, "Colin… is already one of the biggest philanthropists in the world."
Another silence. Even heavier than before.
Back at the mansion, Colin was eating breakfast and quietly enjoying the scene playing out through his abilities.
He could feel their jealousy, their bitterness, their false smiles—all of it crystal clear in his mind.
He smirked.
That's it… show me that face-slapping moment.
Soon, Monica returned outside with her sisters. She didn't even notice the crowd gathered around the car—most of whom were the very people who had once tormented her.
The crowd, however, was stunned into silence.
Monica looked breathtaking—far more beautiful than anyone remembered. Her delicate features, graceful figure, and quiet confidence made her seem almost unreal. The shy, awkward girl from years ago had vanished completely.
"Please make way," Monica said coolly. "I have things to do."
The crowd parted.
"Hey, Monica! You still remember me, right?" a man with a buzz cut called out.
Others chimed in one after another, all eager to claim some connection.
Monica glanced at them and said simply, "Sorry, I don't have time to chat."
She motioned for her sisters to get in.
Colin, watching remotely, let out a delighted laugh.
"Perfect," he said between chuckles.
Her cold indifference cut sharper than any insult. The group's faces soured, and their envy festered into quiet resentment.
Elsewhere, Bruce Wayne stirred awake. His head throbbed—his body felt heavy.
He remembered everything.
Last night's drinking. The laughter. The ridiculous things he'd said. The tears when he'd mentioned his parents.
It had felt like a dream—but it wasn't.
"Never again," he groaned, pressing his temples. "No more drinking…"
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Alfred stepped in, carrying a tray.
"Some water, sir," he said gently. "It'll help you feel better."
Bruce sighed, taking the glass with a tired smile.