"Alright, enough drama for the evening!"

Kyle clapped his hands together, driving the dark thoughts out of his head.

"I’m the Black Joker, I’ve got money burning holes in my pockets, and a long day of pampering ahead of me!"

Kyle leapt out of the pool with agility, landing on the heated marble.

He grabbed a towel made of pure Egyptian silk, dried himself, and put on a white velvet bathrobe that looked as if it were woven from braided clouds.

He walked in from the balcony into the vast penthouse lounge. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

The lounge was a masterpiece of futuristic design; smart glass walls, carpets made of rare fur, and holographic screens that responded to eye movement.

"System," Kyle called out arrogantly.

"I’m hungry. I want the best that the chefs of this miserable city can cook."

"Welcome, sir," the apartment’s AI replied in a soft feminine voice.

"Would you like to summon Chef ’Laurent,’ holder of three golden stars, to prepare an exclusive tasting menu in your kitchen?"

"Yes, let him come—and have him bring those expensive things I can’t even pronounce."

An hour later...

Kyle was seated at a black marble dining table, wearing a comfortable silk suit.

In front of him, the personal chef and his assistants moved like precise machines.

"Sir, the first dish," said Chef Laurent as he placed a very small, elegant plate in front of Kyle.

"A slice of ’Leviasan’ meat aged in ice Eitra, slowly seared over charcoal from luminous forest wood, garnished with 24-karat gold flakes, with a sauce of rare dusk truffle."

Kyle looked at the dish, which was no larger than half his palm, yet cost the equivalent of Aiden’s retirement salary he had dreamed of for years.

Kyle picked up the silver fork and knife, cut a small piece, and placed it in his mouth.

He closed his eyes.

The meat... wasn’t chewed.

It literally melted on his tongue like warm butter, leaving behind an explosion of smoky, salty flavors and a faint sweetness that stimulated the brain’s cells.

"My God..." Kyle whispered, a fake tear of joy forming in his eye.

"This... this is better than watching Aiden trip and fall on his face. Bring more! I want ten plates of this thing! And bring me glowing star dragon fruit juice!"

Kyle ate with a greed unbefitting the dish’s elegance, completely ignoring table etiquette.

He devoured flying lobster cooked in a butter volcano, and ate desserts made of enchanted ice that only melted in the mouth, releasing refreshing clouds of blue smoke from his nose and mouth with every bite.

He was devouring his wealth in a frenzy of pleasure, making up for every second he had lived on orphanage scraps.

After the imperial feast, Kyle wiped his mouth with a silk napkin and tossed it onto the floor carelessly.

"Now... time to digest."

Kyle moved to a room dedicated to entertainment.

It wasn’t just a game room—it was a private Arcade and VR hall equipped with the latest technology Zerathion had to offer.

Kyle sat on a full-body mechanical chair and wore a ninth-generation virtual reality headset.

He started playing a tactical shooter game.

He—the Black Joker, the genius killer, the infiltration expert who outmaneuvered regional kings—was now participating in an online match against random players around the world.

Half an hour passed, and things were going disastrously.

"Where did that bastard come from?!" Kyle shouted in the room, violently pressing the controller buttons, nearly breaking them.

"I was hiding behind the wall! How did he snipe me? This is cheating! The system is using hacks!"

A message appeared on the screen from a player named (NoobSlayer_2015):

"You’re really bad, dude. Go play farming games."

A vein bulged on Kyle’s forehead.

The devil who had not trembled before the wrath of Saint Ilarion was now boiling with rage because of an eleven-year-old behind a screen.

"I’m bad? I’m bad, you little brat?!" Kyle roared into the headset microphone, completely forgetting the Joker’s composure.

"If you were in front of me, I’d cut off your fingers and shove them into your eyes! I’ll find where you live, you piece of trash! I’ll hack your device! I’ll make the Samiyin arrest you!"

Kyle continued playing for hours—cursing, shouting, and punching the couch every time he lost, then celebrating with an exaggerated, ridiculous dance whenever he managed to kill a player by chance.

He was venting all his accumulated psychological pressure in a trivial virtual environment.

When evening came, and the snowstorm stopped to reveal a clear sky full of stars, Kyle exited the game room, panting from exhaustion, his jet-black hair messy, and his silk clothes wrinkled.

"What a tiring day," Kyle sighed theatrically as he lay down on the massive circular bed in the master bedroom.

The bed was covered with sheets made of rare spider silk, so soft that the body sank into it as if floating in clouds.

He ordered the AI to play soft classical music, and the lighting dimmed into a calming purple hue.

Kyle lay on his back, placing his hands behind his head.

He smiled—genuinely this time.

He had succeeded.

He had lived a filthy past, suffered from poverty, the orphanage, and oppression. He rebelled and became a thief.

He deceived intelligence agencies. He manipulated unbeatable monsters. He took the greatest treasure—and walked away alive.

And now he was here, at the pinnacle of the material world, eating the rarest meats, playing games, and sleeping on silk.

There were no other complicated plans for tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he would summon a massage specialist, buy a flying yacht, and perhaps spend a week exploring the lower-city restaurants of Zerathion.

Kyle closed his eyes and surrendered to a deep sleep, free of nightmares, surrounded by an aura of narcissism and absolute security.

He had won the game of life.

But...

In Elysium and Zerathion—and in every corner of this cursed planet...

Fate does not acknowledge the Joker’s victory.

And certainly... fate had no intention of allowing Kyle Valtier to live in peace.