Urban Harem God: Harem With My Ultimate Copy & Paste System!-Chapter 22: A $3.3M Spending Nobody

Jayden wasn't buying these cars to drive them right now. Nah. This was about staking his claim, leaving fingerprints on the glass just to say "mine" before anyone else could breathe near them.

He lounged in the green Spyder like a bored god with nothing better to do than drop a few million for fun. But truth was, reality had its annoying little rules. And right now, the biggest cockblock wasn't money—it was his age.

He was still seventeen. Technically. Legally. Unfortunately.

And as far as the system was concerned? That meant no keys, no signature, no joyride into the sunset. Not without a legal guardian.

Did he have one?

Yeah. Technically.

Did he bring them?

Pfft—hell no. That'd be like showing up to prom with your mom.

Could he have bent the rules? For sure.

He could've used shell companies. Could've had one legal proxies show up, smile pretty, and sign everything like the adult-in-the-room act he absolutely didn't need. He could've spun a story so airtight even the IRS would applaud.

But Jayden just didn't feel like dancing today.

"Why the hell should I bother?" he muttered under his breath, resting his chin on his palm as the manager tried to explain the "we need a guardian or delayed release" nonsense as politely as humanly possible.

Jayden cut him off mid-sentence with a bored yawn. "Yeah, yeah. No guardian, no drive. Cool story, bro. Just park my babies somewhere cozy."

He smiled like the devil on a day off. Because what none of them knew—what nobody here could guess—was that his eighteenth birthday was tonight.

As soon as the clock ticked past midnight, the law would officially shut the fuck up.

Tomorrow?

He'd be back.

No excuses. No papers. No "adult supervision."

Just him, and two monsters on wheels waiting to be unleashed.

He stood up, dusted imaginary lint off his shirt, and looked at the manager like he was giving mercy.

"So here's the deal, monsieur manager. You babysit my green devil and her electric little sister. I'll be back tomorrow, full-grown and ready to sign your precious papers like a real boy. Capiche?"

The manager blinked. "So... you're okay waiting?"

Jayden snorted. "I just gave three mil by buying a second car I don't need. I think I can handle delayed gratification for a few hours."

Then he looked out at the city again, hands in pockets, soaking in the skyline like it was already his.

"Midnight," he said softly, eyes sharp. "That's when I stop being a minor and start being a fucking legend."

****

[Ding! Earned $3,000,000 With 10x Copy and Paste!]

The notification slid in like a flirtatious text from the universe itself. Jayden saw it, smirked, and muttered, "God bless capitalism... and loopholes."

Earlier, when they'd gone over the specs and finished fangirling over the car, the price had dropped: $3 million. Jayden had blinked. Only $2M was sitting on his Limitless Card at that moment. A regular rich kid might've panicked. Sold a kidney. Called Daddy.

Jayden?

He played it off so smooth the air probably got jealous.

Instead, he glanced around—eyes locking on a matte-black Porsche Taycan, also customized and standing proud among the lineup like it was trying to be noticed.

"Y'know what?" he'd said then, loud enough to turn heads. "I'll take that one too."

The sales consultant had damn near ascended. A $300K Taycan and a $3M Spyder in one go? The guy had already imagined his commission, a vacation to Ibiza, and proposing to his girl all in the same brainwave.

Jayden had said the magic words with a shit-eating grin:

"I'll pay in full."

The dealership staff exchanged looks like they were part of some live reality show called What the Fuck Just Happened?

For a moment, rules tried to fight money.

Tried.

Lost.

"Y-Yes, of course!" the manager had said, his voice cracking like a teenager caught watching very questionable content. "Give us... give us an hour to prep both vehicles for you."

Jayden was already facing the massive glass wall, watching the New York skyline glitter like diamonds dropped on black velvet.

He didn't even turn around.

"Make it fifteen," he said coolly. "I'm not a fan of waiting. Time is so... ghetto."

Silence. Then movement. People scrambled like ants at a house party that just got raided.

The manager bowed slightly and vanished with the speed of someone who knew the client just became the story they'd be telling their grandkids.

Jayden leaned back, whispered to himself, "Now that's how you finesse reality. Deux for the price of... deux. But with 10x Copy and Paste."

Just like that.

Jayden casually said he'd pay for the Taycan first, like he was picking which bottle of water to open at brunch. The manager? Didn't even blink wrong. Maybe he wanted to ask why Jayden would drop cash on the second-best car before the main one—but man had a working brain.

And anyone with a working brain knew you didn't question the guy about to toss $3.3 million like it was loose change.

Paperwork flew like birds escaping a busted cage. Signatures. Screens. Digital pads. Clicks. Swipes. Smile-for-the-camera moments. Done in less than fifteen minutes like Jayden had demanded earlier. Not because they were fast—nah. Because he said so.

Then came the sweet sound.

[Ding! Earned $30,000,000 With 10x Copy and Paste!]

Jayden's phone lit up like it just received a sext from the goddess of wealth herself.

He chuckled low, smooth, cocky—threw himself into the leather seat of the Taycan like he owned gravity.

"And happy fucking birthday to me," he muttered, swinging into position with the grace of someone who didn't just belong—he ruled.

The steering wheel fit into his grip like destiny. Seats hugged him like a jealous lover. Interior smelled like power and a hint of betrayal—maybe from the poor bastard who missed out on this ride.

One leg out the door, sunglasses low on his nose, he glanced at the staff still hanging back—watching like they'd seen a ghost... or a new religion.

Jayden looked down at his phone again, eyes locked on the $30M he just magically acquired. No loans. No guilt. Just pure, unfiltered, fuck-you money.

He exhaled like he was bored.

"La vie est belle," he whispered. "And I'm the reason why."