Urban System in America

But before he could take more than a few steps, bam—another woman practically tripped into his lap. This one had even more attitude, even less fabric, and eyes that screamed trouble. No fake surprise, no attempt to play innocent—just pure, unapologetic seduction. She looked up from his arms, lips already curled in a sly smirk. "Wanna head to my hotel? It’s just down the block. Just the two of us. No masks. No small talk."

Rex blinked, caught off guard again. For a split second, temptation danced in the air. But the mission came flooding back—and Monica.

He let out a soft chuckle and gently helped her steady herself. "That’s a generous offer, really. But I’ve got someone to meet. Maybe next time."

Her smile faltered. She brushed off her dress. Rex excused himself with a quick nod and hurried forward, eager to put some distance between them. He was still on a mission—and preferably not one that ended with a tabloid headline.

As he walked away, he barely caught her mutter under her breath, "Tch, thought that would work... Worked for that other vixen."

He shook his head, half amused, half annoyed. But apparently, fate—or the system—wasn’t done messing with him.

Because what came next could only be described as absurd.

Every few steps, a different woman either bumped into him, tripped near him, spilled something and bent down way too slowly, or straight up collapsed into his arms like he was running a bridal catch booth. One dropped her earring right in front of him, another claimed she was "too tipsy" to walk straight, and one just walked into him backwards—yes, backwards—while pretending to take a selfie.

It was like he’d triggered a side quest called ’Catch ’Em All: Socialite Edition’.