Two weeks had passed since the official announcement of the Seraphins.exe and the thunderous giveaway of one million LUX™ facial masks.
But while the e-sports scene was ecstatic, the global beauty sector... well, it was in shambles.
International skincare companies, large conglomerates with decades of dominance, began silently fleeing the Phoenix Empire. Sales melted away, reputation plummeted, and public humiliation in the face of LUX's absurd rise turned Phoenix's domestic market into a minefield for any brand not named Tycoon.
The headlines were everywhere:
"True Beauty ceases operations in Phoenix." "Hera Group withdraws skincare line from the continent after 83% drop in sales." "Analysts point out: LUX has become the gold standard of 21st-century facial beauty."
And like predators falling on carrion of opportunity, the founders of Tycoon wasted no time.
At the company headquarters, Lumine was radiant — in the most literal sense of the word.
The LUX expansion project was being redesigned in real time.
In the center of a holographic conference room, the panel pulsed with astronomical numbers.
"It's now or never," murmured Lumine with a curved smile.
She did not hesitate.
Request: Investment release for annual technological update maintenance of LUX. Reason: Ensure absolute dominance.
"Confirm," she said.
The company's AI responded with its soft and feminine voice:
"Request registered. LUX ETERNA project initiated. Forecast for annual update of formula, base material, and integration with nanocosmetics."
On the other side, Victória summoned her marketing team for a war meeting.
"Grab coffee, energy drinks, or a LUX mask if you want to look alive," she said, tossing a virtual dossier onto the table. "Because we're going to dominate the ten continents."
The first part of the campaign was named Project "Mirror of the World."
"Localized campaigns in all official languages of each continent. Influencers? Bought. Actresses? Hired. Algorithms? Bribed."
She activated the holographic map of Earth. Each country lit up with a golden trail. "LUX will be sold in physical and digital stores. In every capital, every metropolis. You'll wake up hearing about LUX, brush your teeth seeing LUX ads, and sleep dreaming of the skin you'll never have without LUX."
Everyone applauded. Some employees even cried.
It was in that frenzy atmosphere that an alert sounded at headquarters.
[ Deposit received: 100 billion dollars Origin: Luna Malroth - Co-founder.]
The notification echoed across the entire headquarters screens like a divine blessing.
Lumine, almost choking on the cosmic almond iced coffee, blinked twice.
"Luna…" she murmured. "She did it again."
With a snap of her fingers, Lumine allocated 10 billion directly to Marketing. The remainder was immediately separated for global infrastructure.
"Request approved: construction of physical stores on the 10 continents."
"Order issued to Tycoon's elite architects."
Meanwhile, Luna — herself — was on the sofa, with a strawberry popsicle in her mouth, watching an old dorama episode in which the protagonist refused to admit she loved her bodyguard.
She didn't even blink when Ivy appeared in the room with the investment reports.
"Luna, you transferred one hundred billion," Ivy said, with a tired look.
"Uh-huh," Luna replied, mouth full. "They said they wanted to change the world. So change it."
Ivy sighed. "You always play like you have all the cards in your hand."
"It's not my fault if the cards are made by Tycoon now," Luna answered, returning to the dorama. "Let me know when the stores open. I want one shaped like a star. Just because."
The next morning, the ten continents woke up with something new in every capital:
3D ads appearing on buildings. Drones flying with banners. LUX hologram boxes in diamond showcases.
"Beauty is Lux. Lux is Tycoon. Tycoon is the future."
Instagram stories exploded.
In the trending topics: #LUXEverywhere, #GoddessSkin, #NewEraOfBeauty.
And meanwhile, the competitors?
Well... they were gathering what was left of their dignity.
Because the world now belonged to them.
But of course, they reacted.
While LUX spread like a golden storm across all capitals, reactions came in waves of desperation.
Behind the scenes of the cosmetic giants, things were ugly.
Millenary companies like True Beauty™, along with smaller brands and others that seemed to have come out of 21st-century sarcophagi, began moving desperate pieces on the international board.
And what was the first move? Of course... a lawsuit.
At the International Court of Europe.
The room was cold, luxurious, and crowded with figures smelling of corporate resentment.
Representatives of True Beauty, adorned with designer suits and the arrogance of centuries of monopoly, filed a formal appeal to block Tycoon's entry into the markets of euro-commercial alliance member countries.
"We are facing a market balance violation, technological manipulation, and anti-competitive practices," alleged the corporation's lead lawyer, with a sharp European accent like a razor.
But the panel of judges did not seem impressed.
In fact, after two hours of explanation, the chief judge, a woman with silver hair and eyes that seemed to see beyond centuries, just sighed and said.
"The accusation is based on the complainants' incapacity to compete. And that... is not illegal. It is just... shameful."
At Tycoon's headquarters, the command room received the notification first.
Holograms lit up with the International Court's seal stamped in gold.
Lumine read silently. Then smiled, sideways.
Victória closed her eyes for a second and laughed alone.
Nikoly popped a champagne bottle no one knew where it came from.
And Luna…
She responded in the group with a single sticker:
@SmellOfRainOnEarth: "[middle finger] So they know where to stick their ego."
The girls celebrated from afar, in their respective corners of the world.
But at Tycoon's heart, everyone knew: this was the first of many international legal wars won.
On the Other Side...
In the United States, the night was silent at the Lancaster Ancestral House.
The manor was old. Too big for anyone to live in it alone. But patriarch Edmund Lancaster did not seem bothered by the loneliness. He was sitting in his leather armchair, looking at the fireplace, while one of the butlers handed him the latest reports.
Reports about the court's decision. About the bankruptcy of "allied" companies. About the rise of a business empire created by his own daughter.
"Two months..." he murmured, as if reciting an ancient spell.
"Mr. Lancaster?" said the butler, hesitant.
The patriarch did not answer. He just closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. His daughter, Victória Lancaster, had done what he considered impossible:
Created a billion-dollar empire from scratch. In less than sixty days. Toppling titans with a single beauty product.
Edmund held the wine glass. The red of the liquid seemed to shine with the fireplace flames.
He did not smile. But neither did he frown.
"She... really did it," he said, like a whisper. "The girl became a dragon."
"Tsk..." he grumbled, still thoughtful.
His daughter's overwhelming victory in the Phoenix market and Tycoon's advance over traditional corporations had caused a seismic shock in the business world. And he knew it was just the beginning.
But old pacts... don't die so easily.
"And the fiancé?" he asked, with a firm voice.
The butler raised his eyes from the holographic tablet he held. "Mr. Liam Albrights... remains as always, sir."
"Define 'as always'." Edmund murmured sharply.
"Sleeping with different women in five-star hotels, throwing lavish parties for friends who treat him like a walking ATM. It seems... the young master doesn't care much about the current state of the Argall Shire," said the butler, with some regret.
Edmund snorted. Lowered his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Is the Shire falling?"
"Quickly, sir. The Albrights House net worth fell 32% in the last eight months. Investments are stagnant, and there are rumors the neighboring clan plans to absorb peripheral territories if bankruptcy materializes."
The patriarch sighed deeply and stood up. Age seemed to weigh for a moment on the shoulders of the man who, decades ago, controlled meetings with nation leaders. He slowly walked to the side bookshelf, where rested a small photo frame with an old coat of arms: the seal of the union contract between the Lancasters and the Albrights.
"Old pacts..." he repeated quietly, as if talking to the past.
He turned his face once again to Victória's portrait and murmured. "She doesn't accept this marriage… not now, maybe never."
"Would you like me to tear up the contract, sir?" asked the butler cautiously.
Edmund squinted. Silence stretched for a few seconds before he said firmly.
"No. Not yet. I want you to contact Liam. Make him wake up. Ask if he is capable of acting like a man or if he will continue living like a rich child on the brink of ruin."
The butler hesitated. "And… what about Miss Victória?"
"Don't say anything to her yet." said Edmund, returning to the armchair. "But send the message urgently. Tell Liam if he still has any dignity or desire to keep his House name relevant, he must talk to his future wife. Even if just to find out… if she still accepts him."
The flame in the fireplace crackled.
Edmund folded his fingers on his lap. His gaze returned to the photo of his daughter, not with pride… but with caution.
The game had changed.
Victória was no longer a piece.
She was a player.
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