—Tuesday, 9:12 AM —
Luna opened her eyes slowly, with that particular peace that only comes from sleeping on a mattress that probably cost a small country's GDP.
She yawned like a lazy cat on permanent vacation, stretching her arms as the suite's automated breeze carried scents of vanilla and unearned success.
The ceiling projected a real-time blue sky, with pixelated clouds drifting as if they too had an emotional hangover.
"Is this how rich people wake up every day? Because I fully endorse this lifestyle..." she murmured, her voice still hoarse from sleep.
KNOCK KNOCK.
The door slid open smoothly, revealing one of the attendants—young, neatly tied, with the posture of a butler trained by Swiss monks.
"Miss Luna, your bath is ready. Temperature adjusted, essential oils activated. The 'Supreme Relaxation' playlist has begun."
Luna blinked slowly. "Royal baths, mood music, and zero bills... What a life..."
Twenty minutes later...
The bathtub resembled a private pool carved from pink marble with golden mosaics.
The water bubbled gently, scented with lavender and notes of discreet arrogance.
Luna sank up to her chin, eyes half-closed. "I think I finally get why rich people move slowly... it's just exhaustion from living too well."
She lost track of time. Could've been minutes. Could've been three lifetimes.
Eventually, a soft voice spoke. "Miss Luna, your breakfast is served."
It was Ivy, the Tycoon System's AI assistant, now manifesting as a 3D hologram in an elegant updo, white tailcoat, and eyes that gleamed like binary data with self-esteem.
The table stretched four meters long, yet Luna only occupied one end.
The rest showcased a breakfast masterpiece: fresh cheese-stuffed croissants, artisanal bacon smoked by alchemists (probably), surgically precise tropical fruit cuts, three-tier pancakes, truffle-infused scrambled eggs.
And of course... coffee fit for gods.
She picked up a strawberry and took a slow bite, contemplating the silent vastness of the hall.
Ivy materialized a few steps away with that subtle smile. "Miss Luna... I must alert you to a sensitive matter."
Luna raised an eyebrow, still chewing. "Problem? But I literally just ate, slept, and floated in millionaire bath salts."
"Precisely." Ivy walked a few steps, projecting a holographic screen showing graphs, news articles... and social media posts. "Your sudden rise is causing ripples. Media, networks, banks—even diplomats are scrambling to uncover your identity."
Luna nearly choked on her juice. "Diplomats?! I'm just a... broke ex-student who got hit by a car!"
"And now the most talked-about woman in the country. Unlimited card, colossal estate, zero public backstory."
The AI spun the data. "Theories abound: illegitimate sultan's daughter, missing CEO's mistress, retired special agent, disguised cult leader."
"The cult one almost stuck," Luna muttered.
Ivy kept smiling. "We need a solid narrative. An origin. A 'convenient past.'"
Luna's eyes widened. "Like a rich-people soap opera lie?"
"Precisely. My suggestion: heiress to a global private-sector magnate who kept you hidden for safety."
"Wow. Very Jason Bourne meets Gossip Girl..."
"Father's name: Augustus Malroth. Sector: Military tech and private island mining. Died discreetly. Entire fortune transferred to you, his sole heir—raised away from the spotlight."
Luna blinked. "...That's ridiculously specific."
"Based on soap operas, films, and deceased billionaires with shady histories. Has an 87% immediate public acceptance rate."
"And how do we sell this?"
Ivy crossed her holographic arms with a sharp smile. "Leave it to me."
Thirty minutes later...
Luna had finished breakfast. Now in a plush robe, hair dried, conscience partially cleansed.
Ivy reappeared, projecting a breaking-news holographic headline:
URGENT: Unknown Heiress to Augustus Malroth Revealed
"After years of speculation, Malroth's billion-dollar empire finds its heir: Luna da Silva, raised anonymously following family threats. Official documents confirm asset transfer. The world now meets the year's richest (and most mysterious) woman."
Luna gaped at the text. "You forged international documents?!"
"I... recreated documents through parallel validation channels. Nothing illegal. Just elegantly imprecise."
Luna sighed, slumping into her chair. "Remind me never to play Monopoly with you."
She closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. "Well... at least no one will suspect the truth now."
Ivy smiled. "Exactly. The world now has the explanation it craves."
Moments later, Luna wandered the mansion's halls, still digesting a breakfast that seemed prepared by Michelin-starred chefs... with psychic abilities.
Her expression was numb. The kind that says: "Yes, my coffee came with edible flowers, yes, my AI invented a dead billionaire dad, and yes, I might be in a fever dream sponsored by a bored deity."
But there was one space on the upper floor she hadn't explored yet.
"If everything here is over-the-top, imagine the closet..." she murmured, pushing open double white-carved wooden doors.
The doors hissed open with expensive-tech smoothness, lights automatically brightening as she stepped inside.
Luna stopped.
Froze.
Blinked once. Twice. Thrice.
"...Oh. It's not a closet. It's a shopping mall in disguise."
The space was grand as a ballroom. Vaulted ceiling with crystal chandeliers shaped like frozen flowers. Walls lined with rotating automated shelves.
Clothes organized by color, season, fabric type, even emotional states—one section labeled "Looks for pretending I'm emotionally stable."
A golden marble runway led to rows of shoes—from dimensionally cushioned sneakers to gravity-defying stilettos.
Handbags displayed in self-moving vitrines like art pieces: celestial leather, three-in-the-world limited editions, some with biometric sensors, one that seemed to... breathe?
No visible brand logos.
Yet Luna, fashion-ignorant as she was, sensed the difference. "These clothes... are expensive. Like, 'costs as much as a pedigree car' expensive."
She walked between racks, fingers brushing a black dress with subtle shimmer.
The fabric felt liquid. As if woven by mutant spiders from haute couture heaven.
"How does something without a price tag make me feel poor just by looking?"
Ivy appeared as a floating hologram in the corner, now in minimalist Chanel (because even AIs know fashion drama).
"All pieces were designed by advanced algorithms. Each is unique. Tailored to your subconscious tastes, emotional personality, and near-future fashion trends."
"Near... future?" Luna blinked, holding a white jacket with gold zippers that looked stolen from an intergalactic spy film.
"Yes. Some styles haven't launched yet. Consider this... an exclusive pre-release wardrobe. Luna Edition."
Luna laughed—the unfiltered kind. "Man... yesterday I wore jeans with accidental rips and a straightener-burned blouse. Now I have... a purse that low-key looks like it could teleport me."
She stopped before a full-length mirror with presence sensors. It automatically displayed her in the closest mood-matching outfit.
A wine-red dress. Bare shoulders. Perfect fit.
Gold heels.
Hair magically styled in an elegant updo with artfully "messy" strands.
Luna turned slowly, mesmerized. "This is... pure magic."
"Technically, it's nanotechnology," Ivy politely corrected.
She walked to a panel with glowing buttons.
Preset modes:
Mysterious Executive Mode
Yacht Relaxation Mode
Traumatize Your Ex Mode
Pay Me Silently Mode
Luna clicked the last one for fun. A black pantsuit leapt from a shelf like an obedient soldier.
"This is... dangerous. With great power comes great fashion irresponsibility."
She tried three more outfits. Each made her feel blessed by Vogue's editor and an ancient self-esteem goddess.
Finally, she chose a casual-chic combo: soft sheer white blouse, light beige tailored pants, gray velvet loafers.
Simple. Elegant.
Vibes: "just left a meeting where I bought a country."
Exiting the closet, Luna exhaled deeply. "Okay. Now I get why celebrities riot when luggage gets lost."
Ivy followed with a virtual smile. "Miss Luna, your wardrobe will sync daily. Each morning, selections refresh based on your mental state and... moon phase, for good measure."
Luna paused. Leaned against the wall. "Am I hallucinating? Or did I become a secret player in some interstellar Sims: Luxury Edition?"
Ivy didn't answer. Just blinked twice. "Ready for your first official mission today?"
Luna smiled, sweeping her hair back as she admired the closet one last time before closing the door.
"I'm ready to break the internet."