Rebate King: Every Beauty I Spoil Makes Me a Billionaire

With the towel draped loosely around his waist, Stan walked toward the bathroom mirror. He came to a stop before it. Then he looked at himself.

The man staring back at him was, quite simply, not the same man who had walked into the bathroom.

The change wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t the sort of transformation that would make strangers stop in the street.

But to Stan, it was unmistakable.

He had lived with this face his entire life. He knew every small imperfection by memory.

They were gone.

The faint mark along his jaw had disappeared.

The slight redness across the bridge of his nose, left over from years of wearing reading glasses, had vanished.

The uneven tone on his forehead was gone.

Every minor blemish, every tiny flaw that had quietly accumulated over the years had simply ceased to exist.

His complexion possessed an almost unreal clarity. Smooth. Even. Luminous without appearing glossy.

It reminded him less of healthy skin and more of the impossibly flawless complexions found in professionally retouched magazine editorials.

His features themselves hadn’t changed. His jaw hadn’t become sharper. His cheekbones hadn’t moved. His eyes hadn’t grown larger.

Yet everything looked more defined.

Without imperfections drawing the eye away, the natural structure of his face stood out with startling clarity. His jawline appeared cleaner. His cheekbones more sculpted. Even his eyes seemed brighter, their color richer against skin that no longer carried the slightest trace of fatigue.

He had been handsome before. Objectively handsome.

The reactions he’d been receiving over the past few weeks had made that abundantly clear.

This... This was something else.

He looked impossibly refined.

The sort of appearance people spent fortunes pursuing through luxury skincare, cosmetic procedures, meticulous nutrition, and years of disciplined maintenance.

Even then, most never achieved results like this.

Some followed skincare routines that bordered on obsession. Others had access to professional makeup artists and lighting teams capable of making anyone appear flawless on camera.

Yet neither could produce skin this naturally pristine.

There was no foundation. No concealer. No carefully controlled studio lighting.

Just an ordinary bathroom mirror.

And somehow, his skin looked as though reality itself had been subtly retouched.

Stan stared at his reflection for a long moment.

”...Damn.”

The quiet word escaped before he realized he’d spoken.

He slowly turned his head. The reflection mirrored the movement perfectly. He studied his profile. The clean line of his jaw. The smooth curve of his neck.

The unblemished skin across his shoulders and chest.

Even beneath the harsh white bathroom light, there wasn’t a single obvious flaw to be found.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

’I look ridiculous.’

Not ridiculous in the sense of being unnatural.

Ridiculous in the sense that no one had any business looking this effortlessly put together.

He gave a small, disbelieving shake of his head and stepped away from the mirror.

His eyes drifted toward the wall clock. He blinked.

Another five hours had passed.

The Purity Elixir had required five uninterrupted hours to complete its work.

Combined with the three hours consumed by the Bone-Tempering Pill, he had spent nearly eight hours undergoing two consecutive System-guided transformations.

The realization settled over him.

An entire day... gone.

Outside the bathroom window, the afternoon had given way to early evening. Warm golden light filtered through the glass, casting long shadows across the apartment.

The day was nearly over.

Stan left the bathroom and returned to his bedroom.

The stripped mattress waited where he’d left it, while the washing machine continued its steady hum somewhere down the hall.

He opened his closet and pulled out a fresh change of clothes. A soft cotton T-shirt. Dark trousers.

He dressed unhurriedly, every movement carrying the same effortless precision his body had possessed since the tempering ended.

When he finished, he stood before the full-length mirror in his bedroom.

He smoothed the front of his shirt with one hand.

Then he looked at himself again.

This time...

He wasn’t looking for what had changed.

He was trying to accept that this was simply what he looked like now.

The man reflected in the mirror was still Stan Harrison.

The same man who had woken up that morning.

The same memories.

The same ambitions.

The same quiet determination in his eyes.

And yet...

Fundamentally, he was no longer the same person.

Qi flowed through his body.

His skeleton had been tempered into something roughly five times stronger than it had been at breakfast.

His skin had been refined into a state of pristine perfection that no ordinary human should have been capable of attaining.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, the System remained quietly present, reminding him that this wasn’t the culmination of his journey.

It was the beginning.

The Bone-Tempering Pill and the Purity Elixir were merely entry-level rewards.

An introduction.

The first glimpse of what the System considered ordinary.

As the favorability of his bound targets continued to rise, stronger treasures would inevitably follow.

Stan let out a slow, measured breath.

For the first time since awakening the System, he finally possessed something he had been desperately lacking.

Context.

The ancient book had revealed the world’s forgotten history.

The pill and the elixir had proven that history beyond any possibility of doubt.

The System Shop suggested there were countless more treasures waiting to be obtained.

And his own body had become undeniable evidence that the impossible was, in fact, real.

His thoughts drifted to the final page of the book.

To the final word written there.

Antarctica.

The word lingered in his mind less like a mystery and more like a destination.

Not today.

Perhaps not tomorrow.

But someday...

He would go there.

He slipped on a light sweater over his T-shirt, picked up his phone from the bedside table, and headed toward the bedroom door.

The washing machine still hummed quietly in the laundry room. Fortunately, it was a washer-dryer, so Stan wasn’t particularly concerned despite it having run for more than five hours. He simply sighed, walked over, switched it off, and pulled out the now-clean, dry bedsheet.

Outside the windows, golden evening light had begun surrendering to dusk.

The apartment was peaceful.

Ordinary.

Yet nothing about his life was ordinary anymore.

There was still much of the evening ahead of him.

There were still people to meet. Questions to answer. Secrets to uncover.

And an entirely new path waiting to be walked.

Stan Harrison stepped out of his bedroom.

For the first time since the System had awakened, he wasn’t merely reacting to the impossible.

He was ready to begin living in it.