"Mr. Dawson, I believe we should show Mr. Jack the utmost respect. As an official platform, we ought to make a clear statement—feature him prominently on our homepage so that more people know about this generous tycoon."
A calm, middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses spoke steadily.
"We should also give him a special status badge. The current 'Supreme Emperor' title doesn't do him justice. What about something like 'Imperial Sovereign'?"
A young man with thick-framed glasses chimed in.
General Manager Michael Dawson listened carefully to everyone's input and gave a nod of approval.
"Alright, let's go with that. Put the entire Team A on hold—our priority now is to handle Mr. Jack's matters."
…
The next morning.
Jack stretched lazily. Last night, he'd spent too much time roasting the system and forgot to use his three spending points.
"System, let's do a triple spin."
A virtual wheel instantly appeared before him and began spinning.
"Congratulations, you've obtained 100% ownership of Dreamscape Bar."
"Congratulations, you've unlocked the skill: Super Chef."
"Congratulations, you've received one billion dollars."
Jack twitched at the results. This system was getting more and more absurd. Were they seriously nudging him toward a culinary career now?
Getting out of bed, he headed downstairs and saw that Emily Carter was already back from her morning jog.
"Morning," Jack greeted casually.
"Good morning, Jack," Emily replied with a gentle nod.
Jack walked into the kitchen and was surprised to find vegetables in the fridge. Not in the mood for anything greasy, he decided to cook a simple vegetable noodle soup.
Boiling water, tossing in the noodles, sprinkling chopped scallions—before long, two steaming bowls were ready.
"Perfect."
He brought out the noodles just as Emily, drawn by the aroma, came over.
"This smells amazing. Looks delicious too."
Jack handed her a pair of chopsticks. "Give it a try. How's my cooking?"
Emily took a bite and couldn't stop. Mouth still full, she muttered, "So good. This is the best bowl of noodles I've ever had."
Jack couldn't help but admire his own skill. Super Chef, indeed. Even a simple noodle dish had been transformed into gourmet-level food.
Just as Jack was about to suggest they go shopping later, his phone rang.
"Hey, you good-for-nothing! Get your butt home, now—wherever you are!"
It was his "father"—the man who called him a spendthrift at every turn—Thomas Dawson, Jack's nominal dad.
Jack always envied the original host of this body. He had a doting mother and a strict but loving father. In his past life as an orphan, he never knew what family love felt like. Now, he had a second chance—and he didn't want any regrets.
"I got it, Dad. But could you maybe stop calling me a good-for-nothing all the time? I am your biological son, after all."
Thomas snapped back, "So you do remember you have a father, huh? Do you even know how long it's been since you came home? Get back here—now. We have guests."
Click. The line went dead.
Jack looked at his phone and smiled softly. So this is what family feels like.
Turning to Emily, he smiled warmly. "I won't be able to take you on that crazy shopping spree today."
"Why don't you come home with me instead?"
Emily panicked, quickly shaking her head. "N-no, it's okay. I'll just stay here."
She knew her place. A girl like her didn't belong in Jack's world. Only a true heiress from a powerful family would be fit to be Jack's official girlfriend. She wasn't delusional.
Seeing how insistent Emily was, Jack didn't push. After breakfast, he lingered a bit, then hopped into his Viper sports car and sped off toward Tideview Heights.
As he pulled up to the gated community, a quick honk opened the gate automatically. Jack stepped on the gas and zoomed in.
"Captain, why didn't you make that guy register before letting him in?" a young security guard asked the man beside him.
"Young man," the captain said, shaking his head, "people driving a car like that don't need to register."
The rookie guard looked puzzled.
"Do you even know how much that car costs?"
The rookie shook his head.
"At least a million. Now tell me—do millionaires come here to steal stuff?"
"No, sir!"
"Exactly."
The young guard nodded in awe. Following the captain really does teach you stuff.
…
Jack found a parking spot downstairs and walked up to the unit.
Ding dong. Ding dong.
The door opened. It was his mother.
"Mom! I missed you so much!"
For some reason—maybe it was the inherited memories—Jack felt especially close to her and immediately pulled her into a hug.
"You're too old for this nonsense," she said with a laugh, gently patting his back. "Let go, we've got company."
Hearing that, Jack quickly released her and stepped inside.
"Mr. Quinn! You're here."
"And Jessica—you too!"
On the couch sat his father's longtime friend, Edward Quinn, and his only daughter, Jessica Quinn.
Jack ran over to sit beside Jessica. She was the girl next door he'd grown up with—a true big sister figure.
Jessica wore a beige designer dress that gave her a refined and elegant look. Her beautiful face was serene, her demeanor calm. She looked like the perfect girl next door.
"Jack, you're back," she said with a smile.
The two began chatting, reminiscing about funny childhood memories. Laughter echoed through the room.
That afternoon, Jessica and her friends were planning to hang out at a bar. She invited Jack along. Since he had no other plans, he agreed.
To his amusement, when they arrived, he realized the bar was none other than Dreamscape Bar—the very place he now owned.
Jessica told the server their private room number, and the staff led them down the hallway.