Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

The moment Emmeline’s Aston crossed the strange stretch are that divided the Crown District from Aurora Imperial City, she put her foot down again.

The bronze convertible answered with a deep hungry growl and lunged, abandoning the quiet noble roads behind it as though continued association had become embarrassing. Park sank further into the tan leather with one hand curled around the edge of his seat while the wind poured through the open roof, destroyed his hair, and slapped the last stubborn traces of sleep off his face.

He had barely adjusted to the speed when the road ahead tilted upward and began to climb.

Even with this body’s memories buried somewhere in his skull and the drive experience with Mick yesterday, the sight caught him entirely unprepared, because Aurora’s highways did not cut through the city like roads built by sensible people.

They climbed around it in enormous spirals, layer stacked on layer of dark asphalt curling up through the skyline as though somebody had handed an architect unlimited money, access to experimental engineering, and precisely one instruction: go crazy, but make traffic sexy.

Every curve carried them higher.

Whenever Emmeline slid into another ascending lane Park found himself looking down through the transparent barrier at the road they had just left, now sitting disturbingly far beneath them—only to realize there were several more levels below that one. Cars streamed along each layer in smooth disciplined rivers, appearing between buildings, vanishing under bridges, flashing back into view hundreds of meters away.

From up here the whole network looked less like infrastructure and more like an enormous mechanical bloodstream wrapped tight around the city and pumping.

Each spiral carried five lanes traveling in one direction while the returning traffic swept along a separate track on the far side.

Some ramps passed overhead, others dropped away beneath, and several split into two or three routes, twisted around entire buildings, and somehow reunited further along without producing the daily massacre Park was fairly certain such an arrangement deserved.

The signage was worse. Arrows, colours, numbers, district names, and symbols scrolled across overhead displays while glowing guidance lines ran directly through the asphalt under their tyres.

Park followed one of them for roughly three seconds, lost it beneath a bridge, spotted what he was almost sure was the same route two levels below, and quietly gave up before Aurora’s transport department could inflict permanent damage on his self-esteem.

The higher they climbed, the more the traffic changed character:

Down on the lower roads Aurora’s version of ordinary had meant sleek electric sedans, family cars, delivery vans, luxury buses, and enough polished metal to make an Earth insurance company shut its doors and turn to religion.

Up here everything went darker, quieter, and considerably more obscene.

Armored limousines cruised beside hand-built sports cars. Long convoys glided through restricted lanes behind windows tinted deeply enough to seem personally offended by sunlight.

Several vehicles looked less like objects a person could purchase and more like objects a billionaire had commissioned after watching another billionaire own something nice and taking it to heart.

Park watched Emmeline take the inside of another curve, cross into a branching route, climb one more spiral, then glide across three lanes toward an exit without once touching the brake. She managed all of it one-handed, her dark hair whipping loose around her face, the sun catching the ends of it and turning them almost copper.

The wind had spent the last twenty minutes working on that black bodice with sincere dedication, and Emmeline had not noticed and would not have cared, and Park had made a private executive decision to look at the road instead approximately four times now with steadily decreasing conviction.

"How the hell did you memorise any of this?"

Her smile widened beneath the wind. "You’re impressed?"

Park looked over the barrier at the tangled layers twisting beneath them, swallowed whatever remained of his pride, and nodded. "Very."

"That was the point."

"The point was making visitors from other empires feel stupid?"

"The point was making Aurora unforgettable." She slipped past a silver coupé and carried the Aston around the next curve as smoothly as if the highway had been laid down to her personal specification. "Besides. I drive through the city ten times a week, minimum. It would be a bit tragic if this hadn’t gone to muscle memory by now."

"Ten times?"

"Sometimes more."

Park watched her profile while she guided them between two separating lanes.

He had watched Mick drive yesterday like a man attempting to settle an old personal grievance with death, preferably in public and with witnesses present. Emmeline drove like death was on her father’s payroll and had already been advised to keep a respectful distance from the vehicle.

"You’re better than Mick, uh, my Runner." Park said.

That got her attention. The Aston eased slightly as it entered the descending lane and Emmeline turned just enough for her grey eyes to glitter at him.

"Wow. You’re really drowning me in affection today."

"I’m stating facts."

"Compliments. Hand-holding. Emotional speeches." Her lips curled with open delight. "Who are you and what have you done with my emotionally constipated little brother?"

"Character development. Try to keep up."

She laughed and leaned across before he understood what was happening, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek while somehow keeping the Aston perfectly centred in its lane.

"I love you too."

Park blinked, then laughed under his breath as she settled back behind the wheel. "Gremlin."

"Collector’s-edition gremlin," she corrected, looking far too pleased with herself.

He glanced back. The black Maybach held its position several cars behind, close enough to intervene and distant enough to pretend it had no connection to them whatsoever, keeping pace without any visible strain despite Emmeline having spent the last twenty minutes treating one of the most confusing road systems ever devised as her personal circuit.

Park clicked his tongue.

Quinn was almost certainly the better driver of the two otherwise the entire Maybach would have lost them already.

Then the highway curved around another cluster of buildings, and Aurora Imperial City opened up underneath them.

The capital ran further than his eyes could comfortably follow, an endless sweep of glass and steel and elevated road and carefully cultivated greenery all burning under the bright morning sun. Towers rose in glittering clusters across the skyline, some curved like polished waves, others narrowing into silver blades.

Several twisted around themselves in shapes that looked one strong wind from becoming national tragedies and yet stood there perfectly serene.

Transparent trains slipped between buildings on raised tracks, silver bodies catching the light before vanishing into distant terminals.

Vast digital displays flowed across entire facades—luxury advertising, film trailers, celebrity interviews, political headlines. A brief update on Princess Seraphina’s latest scandal surfaced on one of them, survived roughly four seconds, and was swallowed whole by a perfume advertisement featuring a half-dressed actress selling to people who already owned twelve bottles.

Small aircraft hummed between the far towers. Music drifted down from rooftop lounges he could barely make out. Engines and horns and several million voices rose from below and blended into one restless canopy of sound, the pulse of a city that had clearly never heard of shutting the hell up and would have rejected the concept on principle if anybody had raised it.

And somehow, Dios mío, it was so beautiful.

Even the technology seemed to be at least five to seven years ahead of the Earth he remembered, and that was not him exaggerating because the sun looked nice and he happened to be riding in a convertible worth more than several functioning human organs put together.

If anything he was being conservative.

He leaned back and drew a long breath of hot wind and let the impossible capital unfold around him.

’What a damn city.’

He honestly did not know whether Earth had anything capable of matching it. Tokyo and Dubai and Shanghai and New York might each have competed in separate categories, but Aurora looked as though it had stolen the best part of every wealthy city in existence, folded in royal money and political vanity and technology nobody had bothered releasing to the public, then instructed its architects to stop being little bitches about scale.

And the real monster had not even shown up yet:

That one waited at the centre of the city, and by the time the Aston turned into the private grounds surrounding the Imperial Park Royale Towers, Park had fully accepted that this world held no respect whatsoever for moderation.

Then he stepped out of the car, tilted his head back, and briefly forgot the mechanics of thought.

He had never felt so small in either of his lives.

He raised a hand against the furious yellow glare and tried to find the tops of the towers, and failed. The damn things simply carried on upward, three colossal circular structures of glass and metal rising so far that their upper sections dissolved into sunlight and thin cloud and pure distance.

His neck started filing complaints before his eyes found anything resembling the end of the towers.

Enclosed skybridges spanned the gaps between them at heights that made his stomach reconsider its position. They looked almost delicate from down here, and Park knew that was perspective having a joke at his expense—

He leaned back a little further and squinted into the light.

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