Harem Investment System: Getting Money And Women

Ethan stepped into the VIP restaurant section, immediately feeling the shift in atmosphere.

This wasn't just a place to eat — it was an arena where the rich mingled, where deals were made over glasses of expensive wine, and where the scent of power was almost as strong as the aroma of the gourmet dishes being served.

A few people waved at him, some offering polite nods, others raising their glasses in acknowledgment.

He waved back casually, knowing full well that the social hierarchy in a place like this was an intricate web.

Some people in this room were wealthy beyond imagination, while others were still climbing, eager to rub shoulders with the elite in hopes of securing a bigger slice of the pie.

That was the nature of money — there was always someone richer, always someone more powerful.

And the moment you forgot that, the moment you underestimated someone, was the moment you put yourself at a disadvantage.

Ethan had learned that lesson early.

He was about to move through the section when a woman stumbled forward.

She looked slightly flustered, clutching onto something as she approached him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Mr. Grey!" she called out, a nervous energy in her voice. "I — I know this is sudden, but could I get an autograph?"

Ethan glanced at her.

She seemed young, maybe in her late twenties, dressed in a business-casual outfit, with a lanyard around her neck that suggested she was some kind of journalist or reporter.

He usually didn't care much for signing things, but he supposed there was no harm. "What do you want me to sign?"

She quickly pulled out a cap from her bag and presented it to him. It was plain, except for a section on the front where the word Grey was embroidered faintly.

"Right here," she said, pointing at the forehead section of the cap.

Ethan took the cap, pulled a marker from his pocket — because of course, he always carried one for moments like this — and signed his last name in sharp, bold strokes.

She beamed, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem," Ethan said, offering her a slight nod before moving forward.

He continued through the restaurant section, passing by elegantly dressed patrons and servers carrying trays of delicacies most people wouldn't even be able to pronounce.

He wasn't here for the food, though — he had something else to check on.

Finally, he reached a new room.

During the resort's construction, this space had been completely empty — a blank canvas with nothing but white walls and an untouched floor.

But now, it had transformed into something else entirely.

Rows of chairs were set up in an orderly fashion, a dim golden light illuminating the area, casting a warm ambiance.

On stage, a group of performers was in the middle of an act, their voices filling the space with a raw, artistic energy.

The audience sat in quiet appreciation, some sipping drinks, others simply watching in admiration.

Ethan observed from the entrance, careful not to disturb the performance.

It seemed like his team had turned this into a small entertainment venue.

Smart.

Even in a place where wealth ruled, people still craved art, music, and storytelling. And catering to that demand meant yet another avenue for profit.

Entertainment was for the win.

Curious, he approached one of the staff members standing by the side and asked quietly, "Who's in charge of this?"

The staff member gestured toward a woman standing near the side of the room, watching the performance closely.

Ethan walked over and tapped her shoulder lightly.

The woman turned around, and the moment she did, his eyes widened slightly.

Crimson hair.

A familiar face.

It took a second, but then recognition hit him like a sudden gust of wind.

Melissa.

For a moment, it felt like the noise around them dulled.

Melissa's deep red eyes blinked in surprise before a slow smile crept onto her lips.

"Well, well," she mused, crossing her arms. "Look who decided to show up after a vacation."

Ethan exhaled sharply, shaking his head in amusement. "Melissa. Didn't expect to see you here."

"I could say the same for you," she shot back. "Though, I suppose it makes sense. This is your place, after all."

Ethan glanced around. "Didn't know you were involved in entertainment now."

Melissa chuckled. "Zack wanted someone who could appreciate the uniqueness of 'Drama', we tested a few people beforehand but well nobody could match that other than me."

Ethan smirked slightly. "You really are a master of entertainment.".

He glanced toward the stage. "So, this was your idea?"

"Partially." Melissa shrugged. "The original plan was just to have some live music, maybe a few performances, but I figured we could do more. People like exclusivity, Ethan. So I turned this into a space where only VIPs and high-rollers get access to private performances. People will pay stupid amounts of money to watch artists perform in an intimate setting like this."

Ethan nodded. "Smart move."

"I know it is," she teased. "But thanks for the validation, boss."

He shook his head with a smirk. "And? How's it going so far?"

Melissa tilted her head slightly. "Better than I expected. The rich love feeling like they have access to something others don't. And the artists love performing for smaller crowds that actually listen instead of just treating them like background noise. It's a win-win."

Ethan considered her words. This was a good addition.

Not just because of the money, but because it added another layer of luxury to the resort. The kind of experience that made people keep coming back.

He crossed his arms. "And here I thought you'd never work under me."

Melissa snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't work under you — I work with you."

Ethan chuckled. "Fair enough."

Melissa studied him for a moment before smirking. "So? What do you think? You like what I've done with the place?"

Ethan exhaled, glancing around once more.

Yeah.

He liked it.

"Yeah," he finally admitted. "I do."