The glass façade of "Helion Prestige Motors" towered before us like a monument to indulgence. It was the luxury dealership in the city, rumored to cater to CEOs, foreign dignitaries, and—on rare occasions—S-Rank Vassals.
As the automatic doors slid open, Noel couldn't contain his grin. "This place smells like money. I think I just got a nosebleed."
Inside, a fleet of hypercars lined the floor like a mechanical art gallery. Sleek silhouettes. Polished bodies that reflected the neon trim lights. And sitting on a revolving display platform—like it ruled the floor—was a Lamborghini Huracán STO, matte crimson with obsidian accents.
Noel exhaled low. "That's the one."
Even I had to admit, it looked like a beast reborn.
A sharply dressed dealer approached us, clearly sizing us up before putting on a polished smile. "Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to Helion Prestige. I'm Elias, your personal liaison today. Looking for something… aggressive?"
