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Chapter 469 High Class
Old-school cartoons often feature this setup: two children stacked on top of each other, dressed in adult clothes, pretending to be adults, either going to the cinema to watch PG-13 or NC-17 movies, or going to amusement parks to ride rides with minimum height restrictions.

At this moment, Li Sheng and the Oracle felt much the same way.

The two used their bodies to push open the unlocked security door, climbed the steps, and arrived at the lawn.

As dusk fell, the setting sun dipped below the horizon, merging with the golden sea. Several luxury yachts drifted on the surface, rising and falling with the waves.

Nearby, about seventy meters from the exit of the underground prison, sits an open-air bar pavilion.

The song "Party in the USA" was playing in the gazebo, and guests dressed in loose beachwear were drinking and chatting, surrounded by a group of handsome men and beautiful women, some adults and some minors, who were "massage therapists".

Some people weren't wearing shirts at all.

"You could throw a brick anywhere and hit countless Oscars, Grammys, Emmys, and Tonys."

Li Sheng clicked his tongue in amazement. The guests in the pavilion were all American elites, and the most familiar faces were male and female stars from the arts and sports worlds.

These big shots, who usually act all high and mighty in front of the camera, revealed their true colors on the secluded island, each one more despicable and lewd than the last.

A famous female star sang her Billboard hits to liven things up while a handsome Mexican boy sat on her lap and drank Yili Mengniu milk.

The Oscar-winning actor, known for his image as a devoted family man in Hollywood, earnestly discussed his upcoming film, which will be released next year, while eating fruit fed to him mouth-to-mouth by a masseur.

Quentin Tarantino, a director with a long, narrow face who wishes to remain anonymous, poured champagne on a masseur, letting the liquid run down his neck, while kneeling down and putting the masseur's feet in his mouth.

Uh... this last one doesn't count, it fits the character perfectly.

"Hey! Stop!"

Outside the pavilion, a security guard noticed the bodyguard carrying two bundles of blankets under his arm, walked over, frowned, and shouted, "Bob, what are you doing?"

As a casino that attracts the nation's top celebrities, the island has an extremely tight security system with cameras everywhere and constant patrols.

The fear was that some fearless journalists might sneak in to film, or that the island's slaves might secretly board a wealthy man's yacht and escape.

The two players had anticipated this situation. Oracle quickly adjusted the blankets that were rolled up like a roll, and said calmly, "Mr. Epstein just used the walkie-talkie to ask me to take these two SVIPs to the designated room. Is there a problem?"

In the Killing Field system, the Charm attribute is the sum of appearance, speech, temperament, and social skills.

Some people may not be conventionally beautiful, but they are very approachable and can get along well with anyone and become friends. This is a manifestation of high charm.

However, if we only consider appearance, a charm score of 5 is basically the average for an average person.

With a charm attribute of 6 points, higher than the average passerby, she's somewhat pleasing to the eye.

With a charm attribute of 7 points, she surpasses the school beauty and heartthrob, attracting countless people's attention on the street. With just a little makeup, she can debut as an idol star.

With an 8-point charm attribute, one is basically a top-tier handsome man or beautiful woman, a product of normal genetic lottery. Cosmetic surgery is destroying human material and cultural heritage.

Incidentally, judging solely from their looks, the goblin-themed hostesses at the nightclubs under the Evil Alliance are also quite attractive, easily rated 8 out of 10. They also frequently provide employee training, focusing on developing their posture, demeanor, and persuasive sales pitches.

However, due to the inherent nature of their underlying code, many goblins will still steal fruit from guests' platters or make incomprehensible noises like "oh ho ho oh oh oh" while singing in karaoke, resulting in their true charm attribute usually only being 6-7 points.

Both Li Sheng and the Oracle currently possess a charm value of 8 points, making them undoubtedly SVIPs. Therefore, they must be specially detained.

"Really? Why didn't I receive a notification?"

The security captain frowned and instinctively reached for his walkie-talkie to verify.

The oracle spoke up at the opportune moment: "Mr. Epstein is having a private meeting with several top clients and does not wish to be disturbed."

The mission briefing clearly stated that there were at least eight SVIPs on the island, whose status far surpassed that of Hollywood celebrities.

Sure enough, the security captain hesitated upon hearing this, but still put down the walkie-talkie. "Then hurry up and deliver the goods. Tonight is a big night, don't wander around."

The oracle's heart stirred. He controlled the security guard's face and forced a wry smile, saying, "Even on big days, they didn't give us much of a raise." According to information disclosed in the real world, Epstein and his mistress would lure minors to the island in the United States under the guise of recruiting massage therapists, charging them $200-$400 per service to wealthy men.

While the cost of living in the United States at the beginning of the millennium wasn't low, it was still far from enough compared to the wealth of the super-rich.

If the massage therapists are treated like this, then the security personnel on the perimeter naturally don't receive any exceptionally high salaries; they are merely lower-level employees.

Bob's words clearly struck a chord with the security captain, who grumbled, "Hmph, that's true. What sultan, what prince, what hedge fund founder—no matter how big their names are, the tips won't end up in our hands. Alright, you can go now."

"Eh."

The oracle, carrying two bundles of blankets, walked along the path into the woods, keeping a close watch on his surroundings. He quickly found a secluded spot, pretended to squat down to tie his shoelaces.

He actually picked up a pebble and, with a snap, knocked the surveillance camera fixed to the treetop askew, then put the bedding into his backpack.

The oracle breathed a sigh of relief and asked in a low voice, "Did you hear that?"

“Yes, I heard that,” Li Sheng said. “The Sultan should refer to the Sultan of Brunei, Hassanal Bolkiah. Brunei has only 400,000 people and has become wealthy due to its massive oil exports. Bolkiah’s personal wealth was approximately US$10 billion in 2020.”

This person was previously prosecuted for unlawful imprisonment by Miss USA 1997.

As for the prince, he could be Andrew of the United Kingdom, or Prince Pierre of the remnant German royal family, or a prince of some princely state in the Gulf.

As for hedge fund founders, there are simply too many to list.

The Oracle frowned and asked, "Could these people be SVIPs?"

"VIP is possible, but SVIP is hard to say. Power can bring money, but money can only be exchanged for power at the right time."

Li Sheng said, "My personal suggestion is that we first find the server center on the island and locate the other five players through the surveillance cameras."

After a brief discussion, the two walked out of the woods, only to be called back.

"Hey, you there, lift this box up and come with me."

A young white man wearing swim trunks called out to security guard Bob, who was accompanied by four burly bodyguards, clearly indicating that he was either rich or powerful.

"I?"

The Oracle hesitated; time was limited, and she couldn't be bothered with this rich kid. However, considering Bob's security guard uniform, she hesitated for a moment before walking over and lifting the plastic box.

The box was filled with all sorts of sex toys, including whips, animal masks, handcuffs, candles, lubricant, and more, and it reeked of a nauseatingly strong perfume.

Two players, acting as security guards, silently followed the rich second-generation into the second floor of a townhouse.

To curry favor with celebrities, Epstein had his villa soundproofed so that even if he screamed loudly inside, no one outside could hear him.

The rich kid had four bodyguards standing outside the room. He didn't treat Bob, the security guard, as an equal, but rather like an object, ordering him around to do things, saying, "Put the box down and you can leave."

"Ok."

The oracle put down the box and glanced at it. He saw a small boy lying sprawled on a wooden horse in the dimly lit, spacious second-floor bedroom, with a towel stuffed in his mouth.

Upon seeing Bob appear, he began to sob and make noises, while the rich kid took out a priest's robe from the box and put it on.

The oracle was already used to the corruption and decadence of high society, and she didn't have much of a sense of justice. She immediately turned to leave, but Li Sheng grabbed her.

Li Sheng peered through Bob's belly button and the little boy looked increasingly familiar. He tentatively asked,
"Joker?"

Wow, it really is you!

(End of this chapter)