— Tuesday, 09:12 in the morning —
Luna opened her eyes slowly, with the kind of peace that only comes after sleeping on a mattress that probably cost the GDP of a small country.
She yawned like a lazy cat on eternal vacation, stretching her arms while the room's automatic breeze blew the scent of vanilla and undeserved success.
The ceiling of the suite projected a real-time blue sky, with pixelated clouds wandering as if they were also emotionally hungover.
"Is this how millionaire wakes up every day? Because I support this lifestyle hard…" she murmured, voice still hoarse with sleep.
KNOCK KNOCK.
The door slid smoothly to the side and one of the servants entered, young, wearing a tie, and with the posture of a butler trained by Swiss monks.
"Miss Luna, your bathtub is ready. Temperature adjusted, essential oils activated. The playlist 'Supreme Relaxation' has started."
Luna blinked slowly. "Queen bath, soundtrack, and zero bills… What a life, huh…"
Twenty minutes later…
The bathtub looked more like a private pool embedded in pink marble with golden mosaics.
The water bubbled softly, scented with lavender and notes of discreet arrogance.
Luna sank to her chin with half-closed eyes. "I think I finally get why rich people walk slowly… it's just fatigue from living too well."
She didn't know how much time passed there. It could have been minutes. It could have been three reincarnations.
But eventually, a soft voice was heard. "Miss Luna, your breakfast is served."
It was Ivy, the AI assistant of the Tycoon System, who now manifested in a 3D hologram elegantly dressed, hair in a bun, white tailleur, and eyes that shone like binary data with self-esteem.
The table was about four meters long and yet Luna occupied only the tip.
The rest of the table boasted a masterpiece of breakfast:
Fresh croissants stuffed with European cheese,
Strips of artisan bacon smoked by alchemists (probably),
Tropical fruits cut with surgical precision,
Three-layer pancakes,
Scrambled eggs with black truffles.
And of course… coffee once again worthy of gods.
She picked up a strawberry and bit it slowly, contemplating the silent immensity of the hall.
Ivy materialized a few steps away, with the typical subtle smile. "Miss Luna… I would like to alert you to a sensitive issue."
Luna raised an eyebrow, still chewing. "Problem? But I literally just ate, slept, and floated in millionaire bath salts."
"Exactly." Ivy walked a few steps, projecting a holographic screen showing graphs, news, and… social media posts.
"Your sudden rise is already causing noise. Media, networks, banks, and even diplomats are trying to understand who you are."
Luna choked slightly on the juice. "Diplomats?! I'm just a… broke former student hit in the crosswalk!"
"And today the most talked about woman in the country, with an unlimited card, a colossal property, and no traceable public origin."
The AI spun the data on the screen. "Theories have already started: illegitimate daughter of a sultan, missing CEO's lover, retired special agent, new sect in disguise."
"The sect almost stuck," Luna murmured.
Ivy kept the smile. "We need a solid narrative. An origin. A 'convenient past'."
Luna widened her eyes. "Like a rich soap opera lie?"
"Precisely. My suggestion: heir of a global tycoon in the private sector who kept your existence secret for safety."
"Wow. Very Jason Bourne meets Gossip Girl…"
"Father's name: Augustus Malroth. Sector: weapons technology and mining on private islands. Discreetly passed away. Entire fortune was transferred to you, his only heir — raised away from the spotlight for protection."
Luna blinked. "… That's ridiculously specific."
"It was based on data from soap operas, movies, and deceased billionaire profiles with questionable history. Confirms 87% immediate public acceptance."
"And how are we going to make this stick?"
Ivy crossed her holographic arms and said, with a sharp smile. "Leave it to me."
Thirty minutes later…
Luna had finished breakfast. She wore a fluffy robe, dry hair, and partially clean conscience.
Ivy reappeared, now projecting a highlighted holographic headline:
URGENT: Unknown Heiress of Augustus Malroth Is Revealed
"After years of speculation, Malroth's billionaire empire finds its heiress: Luna da Silva, raised in anonymity after threats to the family. Official documents confirm transfer of assets. The world now knows the richest (and most mysterious) woman of the year."
Luna widened her eyes, reading everything. "You forged international documents?!"
"I… recreated documents in parallel validation channels. Nothing illegal. Just elegantly imprecise."
Luna sighed, sinking into the chair. "Remind me never to play Monopoly with you."
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. "Well… at least no one will suspect the truth now."
Ivy smiled. "Exactly. Now the world has the explanation it needs."
Moments later,
Luna was walking through the hallways of her mansion with slow steps, still digesting the breakfast that seemed to have been prepared by chefs with Michelin stars… and psychic powers.
She had a half-anesthetized expression. The kind that says: "Yes, my coffee came with edible flowers, yes, my AI invented a dead billionaire father, and yes, maybe I'm in a fever dream sponsored by some bored god."
But there was one detail, a space on the upper floor, that she hadn't explored yet.
"If everything here is exaggerated, imagine the wardrobe…" she murmured, gently pushing a double door of carved white wood.
The door opened with a soft hiss of expensive technology, and lights turned on automatically as she took the first step.
Luna stopped.
Froze.
Blinked once. Twice. Three times.
"…Ah. It's not a closet. It's a shopping mall in disguise."
It was a space as wide as a ballroom. The ceiling was vaulted, with crystal chandeliers in the shape of frozen flowers.
The walls? Covered in rotating automatic shelves.
The clothes were organized by colors, seasons, fabric types, and even emotional states — an entire section was called "Looks for pretending I'm balanced."
A golden marble runway led to rows of shoes of all kinds — from comfortable sneakers with dimensional cushioning to heels so high they defied gravity and common sense.
Bags were arranged in display cases that moved on their own, like works of art: celestial leather bags, limited editions with only three in the world, some with biometric sensors and one that seemed… to breathe?
There was no famous brand visible.
But Luna, even being a fashion layperson, felt the difference. "These clothes… are expensive. Like, very expensive. They have the texture of something that costs the price of a car. A car with pedigree."
She walked among the pieces, running her hand over a black dress with subtle sparkles.
The fabric felt like liquid. As if it had been woven by mutant spiders from the high-fashion universe.
"How can something without a label make me feel poor just by looking?"
Ivy appeared floating softly in hologram form in the corner of the room, now wearing a minimalist version of Chanel (because yes, even AI knows how to dramatize fashion).
"All the pieces were made by advanced design algorithms. Each one is unique. Created based on your hidden tastes, emotional personality, and near-future fashion trends."
"Near… future?" Luna blinked, holding a white jacket with golden zippers that looked like it came out of an intergalactic spy movie.
"Yes. Some styles haven't even been launched in the world yet. Consider this… an exclusive pre-release wardrobe. Luna edition."
Luna laughed. One of those laughs that come out unfiltered. "Dude… yesterday I was wearing jeans with an accidental tear and a shirt burned by a flat iron. Now I have… a bag that, honestly, looks capable of taking me to another dimension."
She stopped in front of a giant mirror with presence sensors. The image automatically changed to show her wearing the closest look that matched her mood.
A burgundy red dress. Bare shoulders. Perfect fit.
Golden heels.
Hair magically styled, tied in an elegant bun with loose strands that looked meticulously "stylishly careless."
Luna spun slowly, hypnotized. "This is… pure magic."
"Technically, it's nanotechnology." Ivy corrected politely.
She walked over to a panel with shiny buttons.
There were automatic modes:
Mysterious Executive Mode
Yacht Relaxation Mode
Traumatize the Ex Mode
Pay Me Silently Mode
Luna clicked on this last one just for fun. A black suit jumped from a shelf like an obedient soldier.
"This here… this is dangerous. With too much power comes fashion irresponsibility."
She tried on three more outfits. In all of them, she felt like she had been blessed by the editor of Vogue and by an ancestral goddess of self-esteem.
Finally, she chose a casual-chic combination: soft white blouse with slight transparency, light beige tailored pants, and gray velvet ballet flats.
Simple. Elegant.
Style: "just left a meeting where I bought a country."
As she left the closet, Luna sighed deeply. "Okay. Now I get why celebrity freaks out when their suitcase gets lost at the airport."
Ivy followed with a virtual smile. "Miss Luna, your clothes have been scheduled for daily synchronization. Every day upon waking, your selection will be renewed based on your mental state and… moon phase, as a precaution."
Luna stopped. Leaned against the wall. "Am I living a delusion? Or did I become a secret player in a luxury intergalactic Sims game?"
Ivy didn't answer. She just blinked twice. "Are you ready for your first official mission of the day?"
Luna smiled, pulling her hair back and admiring the closet once more before closing the door. "I'm ready to break the internet."