CHAPTER 210: CHAPTER 209: DO NOT TOUCH

Seeing the situation, Rex didn’t panic. Not even a flicker of awkwardness crossed his face. His mentality had evolved far beyond the point of being flustered by flashing lights and sudden attention. After all, he’d spent what amounted to decades inside the system space, training with legends, absorbing wisdom, and honing a mindset sharp enough to cut through embarrassment like a knife through silk. Paparazzi? Public attention? Please—this was beginner level.

Instead, he did what any polished, battle-hardened protagonist would do—he smiled. Not just any smile, though. A dazzling, Hollywood-grade, soul-piercing kind of smile that looked like it had been carefully Photoshopped onto his face by fate itself. It was so radiant, it practically had its own theme music.

Gasps followed like a chorus. Jaws dropped in perfect harmony. And as expected, the flashes intensified as the paparazzi entered full-on attack mode. Somewhere, someone even dropped their phone.

Fortunately, his suffering didn’t last long. The hotel security—clearly used to handling the chaos of celebrity events—rushed in and began dispersing the camera-wielding mob with efficient professionalism. Within moments, the space around Rex cleared.

The rest of the guests didn’t waste time gawking. This was Beverly Hills, after all, and the party clock was ticking. Celebrities, producers, and influencers had red carpets to grace and champagne to toast with. They had reputations to flaunt and stories to exaggerate.

Still, a few women lingered.

Their eyes clung to Rex like they were tethered. One brunette in a golden dress gave him a once-over so thorough it should’ve been considered a full-body scan. Another sighed with enough drama to win a daytime Emmy. He just flashed a smile for them, as they reluctantly went in.

Rex, now fully in main-character mode, casually straightened his jacket, brushing off imaginary dust and smoothing out the wrinkles left by Lena’s earlier hug. He adjusted his cuffs like he was preparing for a red carpet appearance.

He turned to Lena with a small, reassuring smile. "Let’s go. It’s about time. Arriving early is polite."

Lena, still recovering from the hug, the viral moment, and now this gracious invitation, looked like she’d just come out of a fever dream.

"O-h... O-okay," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She kept her head down and walked beside him quickly, trailing just behind like a guilty kitten that had stolen a fish and was trying not to get caught again—but also not feeling that guilty about it either.

Inside, Rex walked with calm confidence, every step measured and smooth, as if the mansion had been built just for him to enter dramatically. Lena, still red in the face, tried her best to act normal but failed miserably as she kept sneaking glances at him every three seconds.

And even though she had dolled herself up by borrowing—well, stealing—a few accessories and pieces from her roommates’ closets, she hadn’t expected to really get in. It was just a last-ditch attempt, a hopeful gamble. Who knows, maybe lady luck would pity her—and somehow, she did. How or why, Lena didn’t fully understand.

And as for using her beauty as a weapon? Oh, please. Just look at the crowd of gorgeous women still lingering outside the gates, wearing skimpy designer dresses that left nothing to imagination, throwing flirty glances at any man who passed by—fully prepared to pounce the second someone gave them the time of day. Some of them had arrived hours ago, staking out their spots before the first official guest even showed up, hoping to be whisked inside like Cinderella to the ball.

And mind you, these weren’t just any women—they were top-tier beauties, fledgling models, fresh-faced actresses, and socialites who’d come to Hollywood armed with nothing but dreams and designer heels. Each one hoping their looks alone would be the golden ticket into fame’s exclusive circle. They’d spent grands perfecting their appearances, going through countless surgeries, treatments, and enhancements to sculpt their faces to industry perfection, with layers of makeup, meticulous hairdos, and revealing dresses that highlighted every asse

But still, no dice.

Because the people attending these kinds of parties? They weren’t your average influencers or aspiring stars—they were the real deal. Movers and shakers of the film industry. The type who had private jets, multiple mansions, and PR teams the size of small armies. And in Hollywood, if there’s one thing that’s never in short supply, it’s beautiful women and handsome men.

As she followed Rex, she felt like she was floating. If anyone had told her that morning she’d walk into one of the biggest Hollywood parties on the arm of the most breathtaking man she’d ever laid eyes on, she would’ve laughed them out of the room.

And now? Here she was—actually living it. She didn’t know which god to thank, so she just went ahead and thanked them all. Jupiter, Zeus, Thor, Vishnu, Buddha, and even the random neighborhood shrine spirit back home. She added in a few "Alhamdulillah"s just in case, and mentally tossed a shoutout to every deity whose name she could remember from books, games, or half-watched documentaries. Who knew which one had taken pity on this poor lamb? Might as well cover all bases.

As they passed by the edge of the paparazzi swarm, voices drifted into Rex’s ear like background noise from a nosy soap opera.

"Hey, does anyone know this handsome guy?"

"Is he some new actor?"

"Yeah, seriously, if I’d ever seen him before, I’d remember. There’s no way we’ve seen this guy before."

"Maybe he’s an heir? You know, one of those hidden ultra-rich families."

The last line landed like a mic drop.

The group of gossiping paparazzi immediately shut up. You could practically hear the collective inhale as they eyed Rex again—this time with a whole new lens. From his posture and polished aura to the ridiculously rare car and that flawless smile... it checked out.

They didn’t dare step out of line again. No more shouting, no more camera flashes. They backed off like someone had just told them the guy they were tailing had a direct line to the IRS and an army of lawyers.

In truth, Hollywood paparazzi were more persistent and shameless than sewer rats during a flood—but when it came to old money and mysterious power? That was the one kryptonite. No one wanted to mess with a name that didn’t even need to speak to make you disappear from the city. These were the kind of people who had the influence to erase your entire existence with one disapproving glance—and maybe a quick call to their company shareholder or two.

As for Lena, everyone collectively chose to ignore her. Many had seen her earlier antics—trying to sneak in with various groups—so assumptions were quickly made. To the crowd, she was likely just another beauty trying to use her looks to get in. And Lena didn’t help her case either; she kept her head buried down, too embarrassed from earlier to even make eye contact. Her shy posture, hunched shoulders, and quiet footsteps made her nearly invisible beside Rex’s blazing presence.

Rex, on the other hand, had no clue he’d just narrowly escaped being plastered all over tabloid headlines. Thanks to his calm aura, unshakable demeanor, and the combined holy trinity of an ultra-luxury car, tailored suit, and god-tier face, he had walked straight past the chaos like he owned the place. The paparazzi’s sudden respect wasn’t something he dwelled on much—he simply found it a little odd that they backed off so easily, but chalked it up to good luck or maybe just professionalism.

Little did he know, his name was already being whispered with reverence among the vultures of celebrity gossip, and he’d earned himself an invisible badge of ’Do Not Touch (unless you want legal ruin).’ But Rex just straightened his jacket again, blissfully unaware of the brush with scandal, and focused on the massive gates ahead.

(End of Chapter)