"You…" He pointed at her, his hand trembling as anger and disbelief warred within him. Words failed to form—there was too much to say, and none of it seemed enough. Just what could he even say in this situation?
"You're not going to ignore the fact he lied about this?" she said, crossing her arms with a firm look. Her tone carried a mix of defiance and exhaustion, as if she'd been waiting for this confrontation.
Her father froze, the fury on his face faltering for a moment. As much as he wanted to stay angry, she had a point. Her brother had gone too far—how could his daughter possibly have done what she was accused of? How could a girl have raped her brother's girlfriend… but he understood what his daughter's main goal was.
"You're a woman, you can't run the business," he said angrily. His voice carried the weight of years of frustration. Long ago, she had promised she understood his reasoning and never pushed the issue again—only to later disguise herself as a man and date her own false identity, leaving him unable to marry her off to strengthen the family ties. The more he thought about it, the more his irritation grew.
"If you're worried about the business falling into another family's hands, just sign a contract," she said calmly, meeting his glare without flinching.
He froze, his anger faltering as the logic sank in. For a moment, he just stared at her, silently replaying the idea in his head. It was such an obvious solution… yet it had never crossed his mind, not even once.
"Let's talk about this at home. Let's go… I believe it's clear that my daughter didn't rape anyone with equipment she doesn't have," he said sharply, turning to face the police officers.
They exchanged quick glances before nodding in understanding. The absurdity of the accusation spoke for itself, and within moments, they released her from custody—though one of them mentioned they would still need to question the man's son later to close the report.
***
Elsewhere, the Vice President's daughter was fast asleep, her breathing steady and calm—until suddenly, her body jolted upright. A surge of lightning burst into her palm, crackling violently as her instincts flared to life. Her eyes darted around the dark room, searching for enemies.
She looked down at her chest, running her hand over the spot where a hole should have been—but there was nothing. No wound, no pain, just smooth, unbroken skin. Her fingers trembled as they moved up to her face, tracing the familiar lines. There were no scars, and both of her eyes were there.
That shouldn't have been possible. She remembered losing one during the raid. She remembered the pain, the screams, the desperate attempt to survive as she and countless others pushed toward the 100th floor… only to be slaughtered like insects by the beings waiting there.
She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. When she glanced at the screen, her eyes widened in pure shock… it was March 5th, 2031.
"Yesterday is the day Vector saved me and Dad…" she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as the memories surfaced. The images of that moment—the chaos, the fear, and the calm strength in Vector's eyes—played vividly in her mind.
She sat there in silence, lost in thought. Her mind wandered through the years that followed, through the choices she had made. After that day, she had thrown herself into training, abandoning further pushing away her own personal life in hunger for strength, determined to never feel powerless again—to be able to protect herself and her father no matter what.
But somewhere along the way, she had faded into the background of Vector's life, a shadow in the orbit of someone who seemed beyond reach. It wasn't until everything had fallen apart that she realized the truth she'd been avoiding… She had fallen in love with him.
It was cliché, like something out of an old story—the hero saving the beauty—but it was real to her. Vector's calm detachment, his quiet strength, the air of mystery that surrounded him… all of it drew her in until she had fallen for him… but she had ignored such feelings.
Watching him from afar as other women surrounded him had always left her quietly jealous. She wanted to be near him too—to talk, to smile, to exist in his world—but she had always ignored such feelings. Traumatized by the day her mother was dragged away by the goblins, she had promised herself to be strong.
The day Vector saved her had awakened wounds she had tried to heal from, which pushed her into training and trying to gain power…
As the years passed, her body had been marked by scars—reminders of battles fought and survived. Each one made her feel less beautiful, less worthy, and she used that as another reason to keep her distance. She convinced herself it was better that way.
But this time… things would be different.
Now she held knowledge she didn't have before. She knew how to evolve her system to S-tier, knew where to find the resources buried across the lower floors. She had power within reach, and for the first time, she didn't feel small compared to Vector.
With renewed resolve burning in her chest, she stood up and headed straight for the training room, determination in her eyes. This time, she would push her system to S-tier.
***
The next day, the Lightning God Guild made headlines once again, proudly announcing that they had gained another S-tier system holder among their ranks. The news spread quickly, boosting their reputation and pushing them higher in the guild rankings.
Vector, however, couldn't have cared less. Guild politics, rankings, and prestige meant nothing to him.
Stepping outside, he was greeted by the sight of a sleek BMW parked neatly by the curb. Standing beside it was a man in a crisp black suit and white gloves, his posture straight and expression composed.
"Sir Vector, I was sent to personally get you," the butler said respectfully, bowing slightly.
Ever since the rise of systems, the world had changed in more ways than one. Wealthy individuals often hired maids and butlers—not just for service, but as personal assistants or even protectors. With strength now tied to status, such roles had become highly valued professions, and people paid good money for capable, loyal attendants.
Vector gave the butler a simple nod before sliding into the back seat of the car. The ride was smooth and quiet, the hum of the engine barely noticeable as the city passed by outside the window. Soon, they arrived at the bank, where the manager himself was already waiting by the entrance, looking both nervous and eager.
What followed could only be described as excessive pampering. The bank manager didn't just treat Vector well—he spoiled him to an almost ridiculous degree. Every luxury the institution could offer was immediately placed at Vector's disposal. He was granted the highest possible client status, with privileges that even top investors would envy.
Benefits that should have required board approval were somehow granted on the spot. It was clear the bank manager had already contacted his higher-ups and gotten special permission, just to ensure Vector's satisfaction.
The two spent hours in discussion, going over every financial detail, account benefit, and potential investment. By the end of their meeting, the manager was practically glowing with enthusiasm, even promising to personally help Vector locate land suitable for starting his farming business.
Oh, that car Vector had been driven in? It was now his. The butler who'd chauffeured him there? Also his, now officially assigned to him. Along with the car keys came the deed to a newly purchased mansion—fully furnished, lavish, and ready for immediate move-in. The butler was tasked with personally overseeing the entire estate, ensuring everything remained perfect.
Vector decided to move in right away. After all, there was no point in delaying when his new life had already begun. But before settling down, he made one important stop—shopping.
If he was going to live like a rich man, he needed to look the part. So, he headed to Veyra, one of the newest luxury brands that had risen to prominence amid the chaos of recent years. The company was known for its outrageous prices, with shirts that sold for millions of dollars each. Yet for those who could afford them, every cent was worth it.
Why were the prices so high? Because the clothing offered buffs—each piece functioned as gear, designed to enhance the user capability. This wasn't just a fashion store; it was the premier gear outlet in the United States, built through the combined efforts of some of the nation's most skilled system users. It was America's answer to the powerful crafting industries found across the rest of the world.
When Vector stepped through the glass doors, the room seemed to shift. Conversations faltered, and several heads turned in his direction. Their eyes moved past him at first, landing on the butler who followed a few respectful steps behind—polished, professional, and perfectly composed. Then their gazes returned to Vector himself.
He didn't look like the kind of man who belonged in a place like this. His clothes were plain, old,, simple, and completely out of place among the extravagance that surrounded him. To anyone watching, he looked far too poor to even touch the merchandise, let alone buy it.