Urban System in America-Chapter 72 - 71: Rot Beneath the Gold

"You sure you wanna eat here, boss?" Victor asked as he stepped closer, glancing up at the faded signage. His voice dropped into a skeptical murmur. "Doesn’t exactly look too... five-star to me."

Rex didn’t answer. He pushed open the door and stepped out of the car, letting the cool air wash over him. But the moment he crossed the threshold into the building, his steps inevitably slowed.

And he stopped.

The lobby had once been beautiful. That much was obvious, vaulted ceilings arched overhead, checker-patterned Italian marble gleamed underfoot, and enormous crystal chandeliers dangled like faded crowns. But now?

"It felt like walking into a painting left out in the rain — smeared, faded, forgotten."

The scent hit him first — a confused musty blend of citrus air freshener, damp carpet, and something darker, like mold covered in perfume. The lounge chairs lining the walls sagged under years of use, even though the hotel was just a few years old, as if they had given up halfway through existing.

Behind the dusty concierge desk, a lone bellhop sat hunched over his phone, scrolling mindlessly. too bored to care. He didn’t even glance up.

No music played. No warmth greeted them. Only the occasional sharp voice echoing from the elevators.

"—I said I left my wallet in the room, why can’t I find it?!"

"—The towels smelled like they hadn’t been washed in weeks, haven’t you washed it?!"

"—No room service?! What am I paying for, a motel?!"

"—Give me my refund, I don’t want to stay in this heap of garbage!"

"—This is clearly a scam! Where is the five star hotel shown on internet?!"

Grumbling guests trudged by, glaring and arguing with staff or muttering into their phones. There wasn’t a single smile in sight. It was like stepping into a cheap roadside motel. Rex’s gaze swept across it all, expression unreadable.

"This place..." he murmured, more to himself than anyone, "feels like it’s already done for."

He shook his head helplessly, but still took it all in, each detail filed and stored.

He walked silently through the lobby, ignoring the few guests and half-asleep bellboy dragging a cart with one hand and scrolling his phone with the other.

At the far end of the lobby, the entrance to the dining hall stood open.

And it was worse inside.

The space had once been designed for elegance — perfect for champagne brunches and skyline views. Now, it looked like a half-forgotten banquet hall.

The floor was sticky in places. The buffet counter stood barren, as if abandoned mid-battle. Out of more than fifty tables, only five were occupied. And even those guests looked like they were regretting their decision to dine.

A man tapped his empty coffee cup with growing frustration. Another couple silently stared at a half-eaten meal with identical expressions of disappointment.

One woman scrolled on her phone, with disgust etched on her face, probably complaining to someone, her plate remained untouched.

Carefully looking around, he chose a table near the window. The view was still breathtaking — downtown skyscrapers glittered in the distance, almost half of downtown LA clearly visible, but a dried coffee ring on the tabletop was a sobering contrast.

No waiter approached.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Rex raised a hand. Nothing.

A waiter finally passed by — tall, unkempt, wearing a wrinkled uniform that probably hadn’t seen an iron in weeks. Rex raised his hand again.

The waiter finally stopped, turned lazily, and walked over like it was a chore.

"What?" the man asked, voice flat, eyes glazed.

Rex gave him a courteous smile and ordered a simple meal. "Breakfast, please. Eggs, toast. Orange juice. Fresh, if possible."

The waiter didn’t bother to write it down. Didn’t respond. Just turned and walked off, yawning into his sleeve.

Victor sat across from him, looking uncomfortable. "We can just grab something outside, boss. There’s a diner down the block. Bet it’s cleaner too."

Rex didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the surroundings

Listening.

Calculating.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Still nothing.

He signaled. But the waiter ignored him. Another five minutes. He signaled again.

Other guests were visibly agitated too. A man walked out muttering, "Not worth a damn penny, wasted my fucking time." Another waved for a refill, only to be ignored. A woman finally stood and left without touching her meal.

Finally, the waiter returned, dumped the plate like it offended him and turned away.

Rex didn’t care, already expecting something like this, instead he turned to look at his food, if you can call it that.

The eggs were cold. The toast was burnt on one side and raw on the other. The orange juice was warm and carried a faint sour smell — like it had been sitting out all morning. No garnish. No seasoning. Not even a napkin. A faint, sour odor clung to the food — something between expired oil and wet cardboard.

Victor leaned over, squinting. "...That edible?" freёnovelkiss.com

Rex stared at the plate, silent. He picked up a fork, poked the egg, and watched it jiggle unnaturally.

Then he laughed.

A low, dry chuckle.

"If this hotel can still run while serving this," he muttered, "then I’ll eat this garbage."

He dropped the fork, He had no intention of touching it.

He raised his hand again. This time, the waiter finally walked over, clearly annoyed.

"Now what?" he grumbled.

Rex looked up, calm but firm. "The food is cold. And it smells off."

The waiter shrugged. "That’s what we got. If you wanna eat, eat. If not, leave."

He turned to go — then paused. His eyes flicked to Rex’s clothes and curled into a sneer.

"Besides, someone like you probably doesn’t know gourmet food anyway. This is rich people’s stuff. Not for bumpkins."

Rex blinked.

Victor stiffened, but Rex didn’t react right away.

Then, he laughed again.

This time louder.

A low, amused, and rising chuckle that turned into a full, open laugh.

Heads turned. Conversations paused. A few guests looked over.

Victor coughed awkwardly. "Uh, boss—"

Rex stood slowly, his expression shifting. The amusement was gone. eyes still fixed on the waiter, expression now cold.

"Call your manager."

The waiter hesitated. "He’s busy."

"Call him."

Before the waiter could argue further, a loud voice interrupted the scene.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

A man strode in, overweight, red-faced, wearing a suit too tight around his belly, and a gaudy gold watch on his wrist that gleamed. He strutted like a man used to barking orders and never being taken seriously.

He stopped in front of Rex and scoffed.

"What’s the problem, huh? Food not to your peasant tastes?"

Rex raised an eyebrow.

"The food’s spoiled."

The manager smirked. "That’s high-class cuisine, pal. Especially prepared by top chefs. Not something your village taste buds can appreciate."

He chuckled as if he’d saw it through.

"I’ve seen your kind," the manager sneered. "Rich wannabes playing dress-up. That meal right there? Prepared by our executive chef. Premium ingredients, top-class service. Premium ingredients deserve premium palates, not the kind that call instant noodles a delicacy."

Behind him, the waiter smirked like a parrot echoing nonsense.

Victor took a step forward, but Rex raised a hand slightly, stopping him.

The manager leaned in, getting bolder. "Let me make this simple. If you don’t like it, leave. We don’t need guests like you dragging down our standards."

Victor whispered, "Boss, now I see why it’s falling apart."

Kalean watching coldly from distance, ready for emergencies.

Rex exhaled through his nose and gave them a cold, amused smile.

"You two are quite the performers."

"Call your manager," he said softly.

The man blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I want to speak to your manager." his voice growing colder.

The man chuckled, confused. "Buddy, I am the manager.

Rex tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Then, it’s now wonder why this once beautiful place is a garbage heap now, especially considering the trash running it. Honestly with you in charge, I’m surprised this place isn’t worse."

The man barked a laugh. "You think you can insult me? If you don’t like it, you know where the door is. This isn’t some roadside diner—"

"No," Rex interrupted, voice icy. "It’s not a diner. It’s a sinking ship with delusional rats dancing on the deck."

The manager’s grin faltered.

Rex leaned in, voice razor sharp. "Let’s see if you’re still laughing in a few days."

Without another word, he turned and walked out.

He had already seen what need to be seen, there’s no use wasting any more time here.

Victor followed, without even glancing back.

In the distance Kaelan also followed.

The manager scoffed behind them, waving a pudgy hand in dismissal. "Bumpkin’s bluffing. Let’s see if he even dares show his face again."

(End of Chapter)