Flexing Like a Boss
The word flex had started as trendy slang in the hip-hop scene, but it had been used so much that it was now part of everyday language. It carried a more upbeat vibe, but at its core, flexing was all about luxury and showing off. Screw humility—flexing meant spending and flaunting everything you had without restraint. In that sense, the ways to earn Flex Points were incredibly varied and surprisingly simple.
Whether I was blowing stupid amounts of cash at a lingerie store, tipping a full fifty thousand won, or casually checking out of a luxury hotel lobby in the late afternoon with a stunning beauty like Yeonju on my arm, any action that even slightly reeked of money racked up Flex Points automatically. Seeing the accumulated points, I realized this system was actually pretty damn generous. Depending on how and where I did it, the returns varied, but no matter what, it never seemed to put me in the red.
Flex Points, huh… haha… spend money on luxury and more money comes rolling in…
After sex, the next quest was basically “live extravagantly.” At this point, it might as well have been a money-duplication bug. It wasn’t like money poured in just for sitting still—there were conditions like having sex or stimulating people’s desires through luxury—but those were hardly chores. Most people worked their asses off just to afford sex and luxury, yet here I was, making money by having sex and living luxuriously. It was honestly hard to even call it labor.
Sex is covered as long as I have Mihee noona and Yeonju… The real issue is the Flex Points. How can I pull off luxury in the most artistic way possible?
I seriously pondered the concept of luxury for the sake of Flex Points. True luxury would probably involve spending without overthinking it, but the kind I needed to practice was a little different. It wasn’t about small indulgences to satisfy my own vanity. It had a clear purpose: to draw out the maximum desire from the maximum number of people. I needed to make as many people as possible envy, resent, and covet what I had.
…Guess I should start with a car.
After thinking it over, the conclusion was obvious. No matter how I looked at it, the fastest and easiest way to flaunt wealth to a wide audience was through a car. The envious and lustful stares that followed an expensive ride down the street—every single one of those ordinary glances was worth cold, hard cash to me.
I’ve got nothing else to do anyway. Might as well go now that I’ve thought of it.
Strike while the iron is hot. Without hesitation, I left the house, hopped in a taxi, and headed to the largest used foreign car dealership in Yangjae-dong. New cars required a long wait for delivery, but with used ones, handing over the money meant I could drive it off the lot immediately. There was no reason to insist on a brand-new vehicle and wait for months, so buying used was the obvious choice.
The only concern was the classic horror story of getting ripped off and ending up with a flooded car, but that was just the risk you took. It was out of my hands. Besides, my situation was a bit different from the average sucker. Instead of wasting time studying up on used cars until I could avoid getting scammed, it was far more profitable to just drive a flooded car around the back alleys of Gangnam. As long as it looked decent on the outside and could move, the Flex Points would keep coming in.
After arriving at the used car dealership, I strolled through the indoor parking area lined with countless foreign cars, chatting with Yeonju as casually as if I were on a leisurely walk. Being the largest used car gallery in the country, the parking space was even bigger than a hypermarket lot. Hundreds of multimillion-won foreign cars neatly parked across that vast space made for quite a spectacle. I was genuinely impressed on the inside, but on the outside, I kept my cool.
The basics of flexing were nouveau-riche swagger. A real rich kid would visit places like this all the time, so there was no need to look surprised. A dealer in a sharp suit trailed a step behind me, ready to show me vehicles. I treated him like a personal secretary, casually scanning the gleaming foreign cars while continuing my call with Yeonju.
As I was about to wrap up the call with Yeonju, a car that caught my eye appeared right in front of me. Even someone like me who knew nothing about cars could tell the design was sleek as hell, and it clearly looked like the top could come off. I ended the call, slipped my smartphone into my pocket, and asked the dealer who had been following me.
“Ah, this Porsche? Wow, you have excellent taste, sir. This is last year’s latest model and it’s barely been driven—only three thousand kilometers. It’s practically brand new. It’s the open-top convertible model, and it came fully loaded. I was going to recommend it if you didn’t find anything you liked, but you spotted it right away? Haha. You look young, but you really know your cars.”
As expected from a dealer, the guy had a smooth tongue. Honestly, he probably gave the same reaction no matter which car you pointed at, but getting praised still felt good.
“Of course, sir.”
I shrugged, and the dealer smiled brightly as he pulled a key from a massive keychain holding dozens of them. With practiced ease, he opened the Porsche’s door for me. As soon as I slid into the driver’s seat, he began explaining all the mechanical features one by one. I listened half-heartedly, gripping the steering wheel and turning it left and right for no particular reason. Even the steering feel was surprisingly nice. The design was gorgeous and it fit perfectly in my hands. If the top opened smoothly, I could buy it without a second thought.
The top… let’s see the top…
The reason I was so fixated on the convertible feature was simple: the difference in aggro it generated was massive. Truthfully, expensive foreign cars didn’t impress me all that much. And most people living in Seoul would probably feel the same. These days in Korea—especially in Seoul—there were just too many foreign cars on the roads. Sometimes you saw more foreign cars than domestic ones. Passing by one usually only earned a bored thought like, Ah, another rich person driving by.
But when the top came down, everything changed. It wasn’t the feature itself that was special—it was the fact that everyone could clearly see who was sitting in the driver’s seat.
If a young guy like me drives around with the top down in this thing, people are going to lose their minds.
Thinking about it from the other side made it obvious. Imagine finishing a brutal delivery shift, your body aching like it’s about to fall apart, trudging home on foot—only to see some kid who just became an adult cruising by in a convertible supercar with the top down. And in the passenger seat? A drop-dead gorgeous woman with a perfect body, both of them laughing and having the time of their lives. There was no way you wouldn’t feel jealous and resentful. You’d be so pissed you probably couldn’t sleep without imagining stabbing them with a bamboo spear.
So for maximum wide-area aggro, a cool-looking car was the baseline. But to take it further, you had to open the top so everyone could see exactly who was driving that cool car.
“Ah, just press this button here…”
Ziiiing—
When the dealer pressed the button in the center of the dashboard, a smooth whirring sound followed. The luxurious leather top folded neatly and disappeared into the rear of the car. True to its supercar status, the top opened beautifully. As it retracted and sudden sunlight flooded the interior, even just sitting in the driver’s seat made me feel like my masculine aura had shot up several levels.
Satisfied, I asked the dealer about the price.
“Hmm… Since it’s practically a new car, there hasn’t been much depreciation. The original MSRP was two hundred and fifty million, and the current asking price is one hundred and seventy million.”
The dealer quoted the price carefully, as if aware it was expensive for a used car. But it comfortably fell within my two-hundred-million budget, and I loved the car, so I didn’t hesitate to declare my intention to buy.
“Excuse me? Yes, of course, sir. But… deciding this quickly… refunds for change of mind are quite difficult…”
“What? Of course not! I told you everything as it is!”
Even as I said it, I could feel myself getting drunk on nouveau-riche swagger. The line was pure bravado. The dealer must have been impressed too, because the way he looked at me changed completely. I had evolved in his eyes from just another rich-looking young guy to a whale customer with bottomless pockets.
“Boss, then let’s head to the office and get the paperwork done right away.”
Even the title had changed from “sir” to “boss.” I wasn’t a boss—I was an unemployed, jobless retaker—but it didn’t feel bad at all. I followed the dealer to the office and immediately started on the contract. Buying a car required a mountain of documents, but reading them was too much of a hassle, so I left most of it to him. Once the paperwork was finished, I wired the full one hundred and seventy million in one go. The dealer handed me the car key along with his business card, practically begging me to visit again in the future, and politely escorted me all the way back to the Porsche.
After receiving a deep bow from the dealer, I drove the car out of the used car lot. Naturally, I had the top down the moment I got in.
Whew… I’m so fucking nervous…
It had been manageable in the neatly organized parking area, but once I hit the open road, the tension really kicked in. I was a complete beginner driver. The only car I had ever driven was the one at the driving school. And now my first real car was this convertible Porsche. The difference in experience was night and day. Thankfully I seemed to have decent driving sense, so handling the car wasn’t too difficult, but adapting to this cutting-edge Porsche that surged forward with the slightest touch of the pedal would clearly take some time.
Alright… let’s head toward Gangnam-daero.
I carefully drove toward Gangnam. To get used to the car, I drove quite a bit slower than the speed limit, yet not a single honk came my way the entire trip. I’d heard that even the slightest delay usually earned angry honks, but it seemed the majesty of a convertible sports car commanded respect. I slowly cruised around Gangnam-daero, looking for a decent fitness club.
My body had been enhanced, so my frame and overall physique had improved dramatically, but the stubborn bits of fat hadn’t completely vanished. I needed to work out, and I was also curious about the physical capabilities of my strengthened body.
That place looks good…
On the large building visible right from the main road, a banner announced the grand opening of a fitness club alongside the cliché phrase “Grand Open.” Without much thought, I headed for the building’s parking lot. Luckily there were plenty of empty spots, so I parked easily and made my way to the fitness club.
Ding—
When I stepped out of the elevator, I was immediately inside the fitness club. Since it had just opened, the interior design was incredibly clean and sophisticated. It was a far cry from those typical neighborhood gyms that were just stuffed with equipment. If you removed the full-wall mirrors and workout machines, it could easily pass for a trendy café.
I looked around and headed for the counter at the front. Two women were sitting side by side behind it. One looked like a regular staff member, while the other appeared to be a trainer.
Whoa…
Maybe it was because we were in Gangnam, but the trainer’s appearance was no joke. She had a classic cat-like face with unusually large eyes, a smooth jawline, a perfectly straight nose, and slightly upturned lips that combined to make her face incredibly seductive. But what was even more insane than her face was her hot body.
Even while seated, her cola-bottle figure was unmistakable—extreme curves that seemed to break the limits of the human race. She gave off the vibe of one of those voluptuous female characters you’d only see in manhwa or games. She had such a selfish, photoshopped-looking body that it felt like everyone else was real while she alone had been edited. I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help stealing glances at her body.
But it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t control my gaze. It was closer to a cruel and unreasonable law that every man was forced to obey. At the very least, any man would have no choice but to appreciate her fraudulent body, whether he wanted to or not. Even a pedophile would have to look at her at least once. It wasn’t a matter of taste—it was a command engraved at the genetic level. You couldn’t refuse it even if you wanted to.
So what the hell am I supposed to do about it, you crazy bastard? At this rate I’m going to get sued for visual rape.